Roberto Bolano (9 page)
Authors: Roberto Bolano
MÓNICA MARISTAIN:
Were you blessed with a kind of courage in life by being born dyslexic?
ROBERTO BOLAÑO:
Not at all. There were problems when I played soccer, I’m left-handed; problems when I masturbated, I’m left-handed; problems when I wrote, I’m right-handed. So, as you can see, no significant problems.
MM:
Did Enrique Vila-Matas remain a friend after the fight you had with the organizers of the Rómulo Gallegos prize?
RB:
My fight with the jury and the organizers of the prize was due basically to their expectation that I blindly endorse, from Blanes, their choice without having participated. Their methods, transmitted to me by phone by a Chavista pseudo-poet, too closely resembled the deterrent arguments of the Casa de las Américas (Cuba). It seemed to me that eliminating
Daniel Sada
or
Jorge Volpi
in the first round was an enormous mistake, for example. They said what I wanted was to travel with my wife and kids—something that was completely false. I
suppose that from my indignation over this lie, a letter surfaced in which I called them neo-Stalinists, among other things. In fact, I was informed that they intended, from the beginning, to reward another author, who wasn’t Vila-Matas, whose novel seemed to me to be so good, and who without a doubt was one of my candidates.
A well known Mexican writer, Daniel Sada (b. 1953) is the author of
Porque parece mentira, la verdad nunca se sabe
(1999), a hybrid work of epic poetry and novel. His short story “The Ominous Phenomenon” appeared in the English-language collection
Best of Contemporary Mexican Fiction
(2009).
A Mexican author who helped start the break from magical realism, Jorge Volpi (b. 1968) is best known for his novels and essays. His major work is
In Search of Klingsor
(1999).
A Mexican novelist who enjoys commercial success, Ángeles Mastretta (b. 1949) is best known for her strong female characters and social commentaries. To Bolaño she represented something of the old guard of Latin American literature. Her major works are available in English.
MM:
Why don’t you have air-conditioning in your studio?
RB:
Because my motto is “Et in Esparta ego,” not “Et in Arcadia ego.”
MM:
Don’t you think that had you gotten drunk with Isabel Allende and
Ángeles Mastretta
, someone else might be your double in terms of your books?
RB:
I don’t believe so, first of all, because those women avoid drinking with someone like me. Secondly, because I no longer drink. Thirdly, because not even in my worst drunkenness have I ever lost the minimum lucidity, a sense of prosody and rhythm, or a certain rejection in the presence of plagiarism, mediocrity and silence.
MM:
What is the difference between a writer and an author?
RB:
Silvina Ocampo is one example of an author.
Marcela Serrano is one example of a writer. You can measure light-years between one and the other.
MM:
What makes you believe you’re a better poet than narrator?
RB:
The degree to which I blush when, by mere chance, I open one of my poetry or prose books. The poetry books make me less embarrassed.
MM:
Are you Chilean, Spanish, or Mexican?
RB:
I am Latin American.
MM:
What is your motherland?
RB:
I regret having to give a pretentious response. My children, Lautaro and Alexandra, are my only motherland. And perhaps, in the background, certain moments, certain streets, certain faces or scenes or books that are inside me and that some day I will forget—that is the best one can do for a motherland.
MM:
What is Chilean literature?
RB:
Likely the nightmares of the most resentful and gray poet, and perhaps the most cowardly of all Chilean poets:
Carlos Pezoa Véliz
, dead at the beginning of the 20th century and author of only two memorable poems, but truly memorable indeed, who continues to suffer and dream of us. It’s possible—isn’t it?—that Pezoa Véliz is agonizing and has yet to die, and that his final minute has been rather long, and that we might all be inside of him. Or at least that all we Chileans are inside of him.
Chilean poet Carlos Pezoa Véliz (1879–1908) embodies the melancholy at the core of Chilean and Latin American poetry. His style was clear and simple and, to Bolaño, appeared to be a direct representation of the Chilean people.
MM:
Why do you always take the opposite view of things?
RB:
I never take the opposite view of things.
MM:
Do you have more friends than enemies?
RB:
I have a sufficient amount of friends and enemies, all gratuitous.
MM:
Who are your dearest friends?
RB:
My best friend was the poet Mario Santiago, who died in 1998. At present, three of my best friends are
Ignacio Echevarría, Rodrigo Fresán
and
A.G. Porta
.
MM:
Did
Antonio Skármeta
ever invite you on his program?
RB:
One of his secretaries, perhaps his maid, called me on the phone once. I told her I was too busy.
MM:
Did
Javier Cercas
share the royalties for
Soldiers of Salamis
with you?
RB:
No, of course not.
Spanish journalist and literary critic Ignacio Echevarría was a close friend of Bolaño’s and became Bolaño’s literary executor. He is currently a staff writer for
El País
in Madrid.
Another friend of Bolaño’s, Rodrigo Fresán (b. 1963) is an Argentine fiction writer. His work
Gardens of Kensington
, 2006, was translated by Natasha Wimmer.
A prolific Spanish author, A.G. Porta was a close friend of Bolaño’s. His debut, and most popular work, is
Consejos de un discípulo de Morrison a un fanático de Joyce seguido de Diario de Bar
, 1984, which was co-authored by Bolaño. None of his work is available in English.
A Chilean author, screenwriter, and director, Antonio Skármeta (b. 1940) has had his major works translated to English. The program to which Maristain is referring is a television program focusing on Spanish-language literature that was hosted by Skármeta.
A Spanish author, Javier Cercas (b. 1962) enjoys relative success in the English speaking world. His novels
The Soldiers of Salamis
, 2004, and
The Speed of Light
, 2007, are both available in English. One of the main characters in
The Soldiers of Salamis
is named “Roberto Bolaño.”
MM:
Enrique Lihn, Jorge Teillier
or Nicanor Parra?
RB:
Nicanor Parra above all, including Pablo Neruda and
Vicente Huidobro
and
Gabriela Mistral
.
MM:
Eugenio Montale
, T.S. Eliot, or
Xavier Villaurrutia?
RB:
Montale. If it had been James Joyce instead of Eliot, then Joyce. If it had been Ezra Pound instead of Eliot, then Pound without a doubt.
MM:
John Lennon, Lady Di, or Elvis Presley?
RB:
The Pogues. Or Suicide. Or Bob Dylan. Well, but let’s not be pretentious: Elvis forever. Elvis and his golden voice, with a sheriff’s badge, driving a Mustang and stuffing himself full of pills.
MM:
Who reads more, you or Rodrigo Fresán?
RB:
Depends. The West is for Rodrigo. The East is for me. Then we’ll count the books in our corresponding areas and it might appear that we’ve read them all.
MM:
In your opinion, what is Pablo Neruda’s greatest poem?
Chilean born poet, playwright, and novelist Enrique Lihn (1929–1988) is the subject of a Bolaño short story, “Meeting with Enrique Lihn.” Lihn’s major works are available in English.
An important Chilean poet, Jorge Teillier (1935–1996) has had two collections of selected works translated into English,
In Order to Talk with the Dead
, 1993, and
From the Country of Nevermore
, 1990.
A major Chilean poet, Vicente Huidobro (1893–1948) was one of Bolaño’s favorites. He was prolific, and selections of his work have been translated into English, including
Altazor
, his major work.
A Chilean poet, Gabriela Mistral (1889–1957) was the first Latin American to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Her major works
Desolación
(1922),
Ternura
(1924), and
Tala
(1938) have been translated into English.
Eugenio Montale (1886–1981) was a Nobel Prize-winning Italian poet and translator.
Mexican poet, playwright, essayist, and critic Xavier Villaurrutia (1903–1950) was a significant Mexican literary figure. He is most widely appreciated for his work in the theatre, but his complete works, including poems, plays, and a novel have been translated into English.
RB:
Almost any in
Residence on Earth
.
MM:
If you had known Gabriela Mistral, what would you have told her?
RB:
Forgive me, ma, I’ve been bad, but I turned good for the love of a woman.
MM:
And to Salvador Allende?
RB:
Little or nothing. Those who have power—even for a short time—know nothing about literature; they are solely interested in power. I can be a clown to my readers, if I damn well please, but never to the powerful. It sounds a bit melodramatic. It sounds like the statement of an honest whore. But in short, that’s how it is.
MM:
And to Vicente Huidobro?
RB:
Huidobro bores me a little. He’s excessively happy-go-lucky, too much like a descending skydiver belting songs from the Tyrol. Skydivers who descend while engulfed in flames are better, or those who fall flat, like the ones whose parachutes never open.
MM:
Does Octavio Paz continue to be the enemy?
RB:
For me, certainly not. I don’t know what the poets who wrote like clones of his during that era, while I was living in Mexico, must think. It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about Mexican poetry. I reread José Juan Tablada and Ramón López Velarde; I can even recite “Sor Juana” divided in three, but I know nothing of what those who, like me, are nearing fifty years old write.
MM:
Wouldn’t you give that role to Carlos Fuentes today?
RB:
It’s been a long while since I’ve read anything by Carlos Fuentes.
MM:
What do you make of the fact that
Arturo Pérez-Reverte
is the most widely read author in the Spanish language?
RB:
Pérez-Reverte or Isabel Allende. It strikes me the same.
Feuillet
was the most widely read French author of his time.
MM:
And of the fact that Arturo Pérez-Reverte has been admitted to the Royal Spanish Academy?
RB:
The Royal Spanish Academy is a cave full of privileged craniums.
Juan Marsé
is not a member,
Juan Goytisolo
is not a member,
Eduardo Mendoza
and Javier Marías are not members,
Olvido García Valdes
is not a member. I don’t remember if
Álvaro Pombo
is a member (if he is, it’s likely due to a misunderstanding), but Pérez-Reverte is a member. Besides, Coelho is a member of the Brazilian Academy of Letters.
One of Europe’s best-selling authors, Arturo Pérez-Reverte (b. 1951) is a Spanish novelist and former war correspondent. He is known for “Alatriste,” a collection of novels based on the life and times of a seventeenth century Spanish soldier. The first four books in the series are available in English.
Octave Feuillet (1821–1890) was a French novelist and dramatist.
Juan Marsé (b. 1933) is an award-winning Spanish novelist, journalist, and screenwriter. His translated works include
Lizard Tails
, 2004, and
Shanghai Nights
, 2007.
Novelist, poet, and essayist, Juan Goytisolo (b. 1931) is one of the foremost modern Spanish authors.
One of contemporary Spain’s most important writers, Eduardo Mendoza (b. 1943) has enjoyed mainstream success since the publication of his first novel
The Truth About the Savolta Case
, 1992.
Spanish poet, essayist, translator, and professor Olvido García Valdés (b. 1950) is one of the preeminent figures in Spanish intellectual life.
Spanish poet and novelist Álvaro Pombo (b. 1939) was awarded the 2006 Premio Planeta for his novel
La fortuna de Matilda Turpin
. His novels
The Hero of the Big House
, 1988, and
The Resemblance
, 1989, are available in English.
Chilean novelist, Diamela Eltit (b. 1949) is a former cultural attaché at the Chilean embassy in Mexico. Several of her novels are available in English, including
Custody of the Eyes
, 2005.
MM:
Do you regret having criticized the menu served by
Diamela Eltit?
RB:
I never criticized her menu. If anything, I would have criticized her sense of humor, that of a vegetarian, or better still, her sense of humor on a diet.
MM:
Does it hurt that she considers you a bad person since the story of that spoiled dinner came out?
RB:
No, poor thing. Diamela doesn’t hurt me. Other things hurt me.
