A Conversation with Juan Villoro

< IS) O oc < g co ö Q_ ■■■■H IA¿U¡y¿^J^TMj^WillM¿J B^^^H Villoro(b. 1956,MexicoCity)is a novelist, short-story writer, essayist, and chroniclerwhose work addresses an impressive arrayof topicswithinsight, dark humor, andirony: canonical Mexican literature; theZapatista insurrection inChiapas;thelegacy ofMexico'sCristero War;theintersections of populartelevision and fiction genres; and the socialandcultural functions ofspectator sports likeboxingandsoccer. A remarkably versatile writer, bothin termsof subjectmatter and genre, Villoro alsostands outfor hisinsistently reflective style. Hisdiscussion ofanissueisalso an appraisal, often subtly executed, ofhowthat issueshould beortraditionally hasbeentreated. Villorohas won a numberof awards, including theHerraldePrizeforhis novelEl testigo (2004).He haspublished morethanseventeenbooks ,including thenovelsEl disparo de argón(1991) and Materiasdispuestas(1997); the short-story collectionsEl mariscal de campo (1978) and La casa pierde(1999); the collections ofchroniclesTiempo transcurrido (1986) and Las oncede la tribu(1995); essay collections, including the recentwork De eso se trata(2008); and literatureforchildrenlike the shortnovel El profesor Zíperylafabulosa guitarra eléctrica (1992). WhenI had theopportunity tospeakwithVilloro , ourconversation covered a lotofground, from theserious nature ofsoccer fandom tothe importance ofkeeping one'ssenseofhumor. Ryan Long: Youhavewritten a great dealabout sports inyourcareer, and I was wondering to whatextent youcancompare writing towatchingorplaying sports. Forexample, inLasonce dela tribu, aboutsoccer, youfocusonthespace oftheplaying field andhowtime passesthere. 161WorldLiterature Today How do sportsand spaceswheresportsare playedhelpyouthink aboutliterature? Juan Villoro: What interests meaboutsports, not as a fanbutas a writer, is that sports represent an articulated form ofpassion.Bylookingat sport, we canunderstand behaviors thatrelate tohowwe express andgiveintoouremotions incontemporary society. I'mespecially interestedinfandom whenitcomes tosoccer. Instead of chronicling whathappens onthefield, I'mmore interested in investigating whywhathappens there becomes something that interests somany people,that letsloosesuperstitions, systems of belief, hopes,disappointments, rivalries, and so on. All oftherepresentational powerand fantasies thatthegameproduces, that'swhat captivates measa narrator, asa literary witness. Ofcourseas a fanit'sdifferent: I justwantmy teamtowin. RL:Fansaffiliated withsoccer teamstendtobe different from theprotagonists ofyournovels, likeFernando Balmesin El disparo deargón or Julio Valdivieso inEltestigo. Thesearevery solitary figures, aren't they? JV: Yes,they're theopposite ofa soccer fan - cut off, melancholic, reallypassive - and it seems likenot muchhappensto them.Theydon't havea predisposition tobe happyorjoyful. So atfirst they're relatively opaque,butfrom this weakness, from thisfragility, theyunderstand keyaspects oftheworldthat arenotaccessible tothose whoplaya central roleintherealms of life andaction. RL: They're witnesses, filters oftheir ownexperience . JV: InEltestigo, yes,I wasvery interested inasking , Whoisthebestliterary witness ofanevent? Froma judicialpointofview,there areconditionsdetermining whatonecansayina courtroom .But froma moral,psychological, and literary point ofview, thesubjective process that makessomeonea goodwitness is muchmore complex. So El testigo is abouttheformation ofthefigure ofthewitness andtowhatextent thewitness influences whathe sees.I do not believethatanywitness is completely passive orapathetic. Inevitably, thewitness participates in theexperiment oflooking. Buttheattitude oftheprotagonist inEl testigo is verydifferent from theoneI havewhenI watch soccer, which isa much noisier, celebratory, andunrestrained attitude. RL: So,it'sa question ofdistance, too. JV: Exactly. AndwhenI write a novelinwhich thecharacters areuniqueanda little distanced from thereality inwhichthey find themselves, when they're actuallyuncomfortable in that reality, whatI am lookingforis a personal, individual voice.Bycontrast, in soccerI look for thevoiceofthetribe, thecollective voice, the contemporary Greek chorus that expresses itself ina stadium. RL:How doestherelationship between thecollective andtheindividual function inEltestigo? I'mthinking, for example, ofa particularly strikingsceneinthat novelinwhich theprotagonist looksoverthe"battalion ofthefallen," which is a placeinthemiddleofnowhere populated by theshirts ofdeadCristeros. Clearly this novelis aboutnational identity, a nearly exhausted but important theme. Inthenovel, isthere animage ofthecollective that still works? JV: Well,it's a brokencollective, whoserupturednatureis explainedby itsrelationship toa veryspecific moment ofMexico'shistory: theendofthegovernment oftheInstitutional Revolutionary Party (pri), whichwas inpower forseventy-one years.Thismoment alsocoincideswiththeend ofmyprotagonist's exile. TheMexicaninmynovel,fora verypersonal reason,has lived in Paris fortwenty-four yearsbefore returning toMexico.So thenovel tellsthestory oftheendofan erainpersonal terms - thecharacter whoreturns tohiscountry - andtheendofanerainnational terms thefirst democratic alternation ofpower.But this alternation is more of a rupturethan a continuity, because a conservative party comesto powerwitha spiritofvindication definedby Catholicconservative ideas that predateeven theRevolution of 1910-20.My protagonist finds himself ina country that isat oncehisandnothis.Thisiswhyhebecomesa January-February2011 117 INTERVIEW witness, becauseit'sso hardfor himtoparticipateinpublic life, toreintegrate himself with his people,hisfamily, andhissociety. He realizes that theso-called stepforward for Mexicois in reality theopportunity tosettle old scores. All sorts ofskeletons start coming outofthecloset, andhefinds himself ina country that hefails to understand. Inthenovel, I venture that theconservative party inpower wasgoing tobeconnected tothe restoration ofa moral order thatwe thought had been relegated to thepast - the moralorderoftheCatholic Church, restrictions on someindividual freedoms, andso on.Andatthesame timeI depict - and thisI really underestimated socialdisintegration at the momentthat the established orderis lost. The order of impunitythat definedthe old authoritarianparty , the PRI, not havingbeenreplacedwith another order, helpedcreate a chaoticcontextin which organized crime findsfantastic opportunities . Thenewpowers that bearetelevision, soap operas, narcotrafficking, and fanaticism. Sadly, sinceMexican reality is truly hyperbolic, all of these tendencies aremuchmorepronounced in reallife than inmynovel, Eltestigo. RL:Yes,inthenovelthere's a fascinating story recounting howtelevision producers fight with narcotraffickers overwhere tofilm a soapopera abouttheCristero War,a plotthat'sclearly a reflection on nationalspace and itsfractured state.Space is a predominant themein your work, andinoneofyourliterary critical essays, inDe esosetrata, youciteRobert Musiltoconfirm that,foryou,literature is alwaysextraterritorial . Whydoyoubelieve that? JV:Well,theterritory constructed in a work ofliterature mayrefer toa concrete place,but it is notsubjectto its geographical, political, or cultural coordinates. The symbolic creation ofa givenspace is a processofconverting a geographical domaininto a representational domain. Thelatter maylookliketherealplace towhichitcorresponds, butithas a lifeofits own.Writing is a process ofinventive subtraction .So James Joyce writes thegreatnovelof Dublinthatis at thesametimeabouta very different, imaginary Dublin. It'snotthecharting ofDublinitself. Itcaptures instead zonesofsubjective intensity that correspond moretowhat's goingoninJoyce's mindthantowhatactually happens inDublin.Literary spaceisalwaysthe productof the imaginary usageofanactualspace. RL: Almost every year Iteach a survey oftwentieth-centuryLatin American literature. One authormy students tendtolikea lotisAugusto Monterroso. Didn't youtake a course withhim?Is there a' moment or lessonfrom thatcourseyou remember particularly well? JV: Yes,I wasina workshop withhim,and I remember that Monterroso wasa very strict teacher whoputa lot ofemphasison thedetails ofwriting. He was a great humorist, buthewas alsovery interested inliterary details. Forexample, onereally interesting thing I remember is hisinsistence thatwriters add,on purpose, mistakes totheir texts, some kindofdissonance, a minor moment ofdeliberatecarelessness togivethetext a senseofnaturalness . Naturalness isoneofthehardest things to achievein a literary text.It's obviously an illusion becausewriting is artifice. Evenifyou write incolloquiallanguage, evenifyouwant topresent things verysimply, it'sstillartifice. Sohealwaysurged ustoinclude, unexpectedly, andverymuchonpurpose, someerror having to do withsome detail - theuse of commas, word choice,redundancy - to make the text seemmore natural. Thiseffective useoferror is crucial for Monterroso. He also reminded us that, initsliterature, Mexico doesn't havea strong tradition ofhumor. Oneofthebigproblems ofourliterature isthat it'sso solemn. Wehavegreat books, butalmost all ofthemare,let'ssay,veryserious. In contrast to theEnglish-language literary tradition, Allofthe representational power and fantasies thatsoccer produces,that's whatcaptivatesme as a narrator, as a literary witness.Of course as a fanit's different: Ijustwant myteam to win. 181WorldLiterature Today wit,humor, and satire haven't beencultivated enough, though there arevery important exceptions , likeMonsiváis andIbargiiengoitia. Monterroso alwaystoldus, 'The trueroleofthe humorist istomakethereaders think andeven laugh. " In other words, he madean important distinction between justbeingfunny andturninghumor intosomething that showedreaders typical things inanatypical way,teaching them toseewhatthey hadn'tseenbefore, butwhere they'd always beenlooking. RL:You definitely cultivate a senseofhumor in yourwriting. While readingEl testigo I could barelystop laughingafterI read the diatribeagainsttheband Supertramp. Why did theprotagonist, Valdivieso,hateSupertramp so much? JV: I wantedto explore thepsychological displacementtakingplace in a character who doesn't wanttofaceuptothemistakes hemade inthepast.Remember, he plagiarized histhesis .Theshamehefeels aboutitislikea wound that'snevergoingto heal.And whenwe do something that offends ourselves, that makes us feelashamed, instead ofassuming 100percent oftheresponsibility, we transfer ourfeelings to something else.Due torandom circumstances, Valdiviesoremembered his plagiarism every timehe listened toSupertramp. So, insteadof hating himself, he decidestohateSupertramp as a meansofcompensation. ButwhySupertramp inparticular? WellI neededa bandI couldcriticize withabandon. I likeSupertramp. WhenI was a DJI played Supertramp. I evensaw themoncein Berlin. They're notmyfavorite, butI likethem.But they're a groupthat, in thefirst place,is not really inthebigleagues.Taking ontheRolling Stones,forexample, is complicated. I would havehadtobring intheheavyartillery inorder todemythify theStones, theBeatles, Jimi Hendrix ,or theDoors,you know,thelegendary bands.I neededa lesserband.Second,they're reallyderivative, without a definedpersonal style. Andthey've gotthose nasalvoices. Supertramp isa bandyoucanmakefun ofpretty easily - theperfect rivalfor Valdivieso. RL:So Supertramp reminds Valdiviesoofhis past,which continues toaffect himthroughout thenovel.And an interesting thing abouthis story is thathe is moredisturbed bywhathe hasn'tdonethan bywhathehas. JV: Yes,I amvery interested inwhatyoumight calltheweight ofabsence, theburdenofthat whichneverhappenedbutwhichstillaffects you. El testigo is reallyshapedby thisidea, particularly inthecaseofValdivieso, whowas unableto travelto Europewiththewoman he lovedbecausetheyconfused their meeting place.He thought shehadabandoned him, but herstanding himup was actually an accident. So fortherestofhis lifeValdiviesowas theperson -who-didn't-go-with-her. Things likethis happentousallthetime. Forexample, ifyougo andliveinOklahoma, youbecomethe-personwho -did-not-go-to-Texas. Cancellations, things that aredecided against, weigh onusinmysteriousways .As a writer, I asktowhatdegree we canunderstand ourselves bywhathasn'thappenedtous .Thisquestion intrigues mebecause ifsomething hasn'thappened, itcan'treally be narrated. Nevertheless, itstill affects us. Another aspectof thisphenomenon that interests me is applyingretroactive logic to chance, oraccidents. Itdoesn't interest meinthe samewaythat itmight interest, say,PaulAuster , whoobsessively creates moments ofchance in orderto developtheir possibleconclusions. I'm moreinterested in how we applycauses retroactively insucha waythat something that atfirst doesn't makesensesuddenly seemsreasonable , butonly basedonevents that follow it. In El testigo, theprotagonist continues livinghislife , butas someone obsessedwithfindingthecausethat canexplain whyhisloverleft him.He suffers theburden ofabsenceand,on theother hand, the burden ofexplaining chance. I supposethatintheendwe all wantthere to be no accidents; we wantto abolishchance.I think that telling stories basedonwhatdoesn't happenis an interesting challenge, a challenge related towhathappens inmystories andthat I faceas a writer ofthose stories. May2010 Translation from theSpanish ByRyanF. Long Ryan F. Long is Associate ProfessorofSpanish at the University ofOklahoma. His researchfocuses on culture and politicsinMexico, especially the late twentieth century.He has published articleson a range oftopics, includingthe conflictin Chiapas, Mexican cinema, and a number ofwriters, such as Ignacio Manuel Altamirano,AlvaroMutis, and Roberto Bolaño. His book, FictionsofTotality: The Mexican Novel,1968,and the National-PopularState,was published in2008 by Purdue University Press. January -February2011 119

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