Luisa Valenzuela

Luisa Valenzuela. Photo by Jerry Bauer 1983.

Luisa Valenzuela is and always has been unafraid to be a woman who writes biting political
satire that is also highly charged erotic literature, all this in her phallocentric country of
Argentina. Nothing, however, has more value for Luisa Valenzuela than memory. Perhaps
because the governments her country has survived so often try to rewrite its history, imposing a
collective amnesia on the people. The daughter of writer Luisa Mercedes Levinson, Luisa
Valenzuela grew up under Peronism in the 50s within Buenos Aires most important literary
circle, the world of Borges and Sbato, Bioy Casares, and local poets and publishers, who gave
her the opportunity to have her first short story printed when she was eighteen. To date, she has
published five collections of stories, among them, Up Among the Eagles , Strange Things
Happen Here , and The Heretics ; and six novels: He Who Searches , Clara , The Lizards Tail
and the upcoming Black Novel with Argentines have been translated into English. Just before
Christmas, Ms. Valenzuela was visiting New York. In Buenos Aires at that time, there was a brief
attempt at a military coup. Meanwhile, demonstrations continued against President Carlos
Menems impending pardons to the generals who, during the Dirty War of the 1970s, were
responsible for the tortured deaths of at least 9,000 people. Against this background, we began
talking about her first short story, City of the Unknown, which opens with a girls discovery of
a man who possesses a voice that could raise the dead.
Linda Yablonsky If you could raise the dead, who would you go after?
Luisa Valenzuela Cortzar and Borges. First Cortzar, because he had such an inventive mind.
And perhaps many more, out of my heartCortzar had an eye for things you couldnt see at
first glance.
LY You were only 17 when you wrote City of the Unknown, and yet it has such a mature
sexuality and a very developed imagination.
LV My imagination was very developed then. I dont know about the maturity.
LY Was that story based on a particular longing, or incident?
LV What happens when you revive the dead? That was the question that triggered the whole
story.
LY Terrifying idea, actually. You bring it up again in Up Among the Eagles.
LV Thats much later, Eagles was written ten years ago.
LY In that story, its not that the dead are being revived, but that theyre very present.
LV The dead are present in life, constantly.

LY You say that if we stopped writing, history would stop, time would stop. In Up Among the
Eagles, theres a lot of talk about controlling time, aging and not aging.
LV Its a different concept of timeThe Iroquois, and many other native American languages,
dont have tenses. Theres no notion of a past or future, verbs are always handled in the same
tense.
LY Do you worry about aging?
LV Oh yes, as everybody else. And I get furiousexcept that the more you live, the more you
realize its so much in your mind.
LY Its so strange, the image you see in the mirror and your self-image being so totally different,
and the older you get, the more distance there seems to be.
LV Except, sometimes, you catch yourself in the mirror being who you think you are. Is the
mirror lying?
LY Were running out of a lot of things, one of which is time, time keeps getting compressed.
These two stories of yours were written years apart and yet they both share this sense of stopping
time to keep things the same, creating history by recording events and people: the sense that
without the record, there would be no history.
LV Im very worried about memory, about the fact that you tend to repeat the past if you ignore
it. And Argentinas always trying to obliterate your memory, so theres all this story of pardons
and amnesties for the generals implicated in the tortures, as if one could make a clean slate of
past horrors.
But I insist that you cant simply obliterate memory. If you say nothing happened, you cant
move. This is something that has been in the back of my mind for ages, and it pops up in
different stories. It finally has to do with reviving the deadwhich is again, the other
impossibility. You cannot kill the memory or revive the dead. You have to accept the time law as
we know it.
LY In what direction do you think the Argentinean government is going, and what do people
have to say about it?
LV The people have to say everything they can, if they can, because they are very hungry at this
point.
LY Literally, hungry?
LV Literally hungry. But anything is better than another military coup, so nobody says too much
for fear of getting the military back, which would be worse, decidedly. The economic problems, I
dont think, can be solved one way or the other, but at least there is liberty. It is a very strange
government: playing the game of the populistsand having an extremely right-wing capitalistic

policy. They are using a very obvious double standard and very obvious lies, so obvious that
theres nothing you can do about it. Its not that you cant denounce anything, its that
everythings being denounced everyday, so everything has lost its value. Nothing happens.
LY What sort of people in Argentina become members of the military?
LV There is an odd historical situation here. It used to be the upper classes. The military of the
last century were the cultured people, they went to important military academies, they knew
languages, translated Dantethey were very intelligent. And little by little, they got more
dogmatic. I suppose people who go into the military nowexcept for the poor, who have
nothing else to do but joinare those who believe they are the owners of the truth and are ready
to impose it by force. I once gave a talk at West Point, here.
LY Really? You didnt!
LV I was talking in front of all these West Point cadets, and suddenly, out of my mouth, without
thinking, I said, I dont understand what you are all doing here. If I were in Argentina, I would
know that you all wanted to be President. (laughter) Because they all want to take charge, its a
question of power. That fascinates me. What is this madness called power?
Did you read the Desert of the Tartars by Dino Buzzati, the Italian writer? It takes place in a
military post, a frontier bordering the so-called desert of the Tartars. And they are all the time
waiting for the enemy to come, so there are strict military rules in this fort, because the enemy
will come. Only the enemy hasnt come for two centuries, and there is no enemy, there is only
desert. But they cant recognize that reality. One day, somebody goes out and when he comes
back refuses to announce the codeword. He is shot and killed because they had to create
something to justify their existence. All this has to do with the phallocracy.
LY Would you consider yourself any kind of feminist?
LV Im a born feminist. Im not a dogmatic feminist.
LY Have you personally been confronted with a lot of violence in Argentina?
LV No, not much nowadays. You see more in the streets of New York. Things in Buenos Aires
seem calm. Its very disturbing, because you know theyre not calm. Its impossible for them to
be calm. There was this military uprising the other day and people thumbed their noses at the
fighting. The minute the rebellious military tries something they get horrible abuses from the
public.
LY How can they?
LV They verbally insult them. Its just fantastic. One time a bunch of dissident military tried to
take over the city airport and the people who were going on their vacations pushed them out of
the way. Life goes on and private citizens dont allow this to stop them anymore. We are no
longer afraid. Weve seen too much during the dictatorship.

LY But are the citizens armed?

LV No, I hope not. Some are, unfortunately. But this is pure chutzpah.
LY So, youve picked up a little New Yorkese, I see.
LV Yes, I lived here for quite a whileeleven years.
LY Do you want to tell me a little bit about how you grew up?
LV It was a very literary house, and Borges and Sbato, Bioy Casaresmainly Borges, and all
these big shots in Argentine literaturewere there very often, and I thought it was very
fascinating, but not for me. I wanted to be a mathematician, an artist or a painteranything but
literature. I had always wanted to be an explorer. You dont know how much of an explorer a
writer is when youre young. Literature seemed so passive and ironically, they were practically
all very apolitical. Ironically, because this was during Peronist times. So all of these writers were
out of a job because theyd been censored and kicked out of work. My mother organized paid
lectures and readings in our home so that these writers could earn a living. I didnt think I was
political at all, myself, but I thought there had to be some action in all this, and there was no
action. So I went into journalism. In journalism, you move.
LY And what were your first forays into journalism?
LV Travel pieces.
LY The title of one of your novels is He Who Searches and theres definitely a seeking in your
writing.
LV Theres a seeking in my life, in general.
LY Are you religious at all?
LV No. Yes. Yes, but not of any religion. I believe in the sacred aspects of life and that level of
thinking. I read a lot about religions. But I dont believe in God.
LY I was just going to ask you.
LV But there is a sense of the sacred in the world, in nature. Westerners dont know about
dualities, simultaneity. This is a very Oriental concept, the sacred and the profane, you cannot
separate one from the other, the sacred couldnt exist without the profane.
LY All of your stories in Strange Things Happen Here start with some human intimacy that
grows in the historical context, the canvas of events that surround it and give it another
dimension. I noticed you dont give names to a lot of people in your stories.

LV These stories were written very quickly, triggered either by something I was told or
something I overheard. Its a collective mind, in a sense. I wanted to make them archetypal . . . a
name is a very heavy burden. Sometimes, I dont want to put this burden on certain characters.
Some dont need a name.
LY The Censors really twisted me up inside, that obsession.
LV It was so self-defeating, such a male story in a sense. That book (Strange Things Happen
Here) wasnt censored because God knows. I think, censors dont have a sense of humor.
LY Im sure they dont.
LV They were doing a video two months ago in Argentina, and they asked me to read any story. I
started reading The Best Shod (in which the beggars of Argentina, helping themselves to the
plethora of new shoes worn by the dead bodies lying around them, become the best-shod beggars
in the world). And suddenly, I realized I couldnt read that one. Not because it would be
censored, but because its so painful. So much of it had really happened. Seen from a distance its
a metaphor, but at the other end, its no longer a metaphor.
LY Your writing has a very strong interior voice, much stronger than whatever is on the
narratives surface. Its almost as if youre whispering under your breath.
LV Im glad it comes out in translation.
LY I feel when Im reading your stories, that Im hearing what really goes on in your mind, even
when youre talking about people outside yourself.
LV Because the narrative itself makes the good connections, the proper associations. The
narrative per se knows more than what the writer knows or whatever has been told to you.
Whatever has been told to you is full of holes and omissions and things that are hidden. A
narrative line will make all these things pop out in the open. You will discover them while youre
writing. Thats what fascinates me about writing.
LY Do you spend most of your time writing?
LV I wish I did.
LY So what do you spend most of your time doing?
LV Daydreaming. Worrying. Feeling guilty for not writing . . . You have to go through that
phase, now Ive learned.
LY Do you ever use a tape recorder?
LV No, never. I cant, because I need the physical act of writing. Now Im using a computer at
times, but its not the same. I write generally with a fountain pen.

LY Do you live on your writing?

LV No, I dont. I do with my lectures, and other things.
LY What did you teach here?
LV Funny enough, I had a writers workshop in English.
LY Do you teach in Argentina also?
LV No, no. This is an American operation!
LY Have you ever thought about going into politics?
LV Oh nooh no! The only thing I do with politics is denounce whatevers going on at that
horrible level. I think its the worst . . . I dont believe in darkness, least of all in politics.
LY Youre very sharp with the political satire.
LV I know Im sharp, but its scary because I sometimes become prophetic.
LY Do you find that life imitates art in this case?
LV No, I find that art puts two and two togetherthats all. And again, it obeys a narrative order.
There always is a narrative.
LY To life.
LV To life, in general. And the narrative is then cut into pieces of time and place and
convenience, whatever is hidden or forgotten or not said. And the narrative reconstruction builds
this whole edifice again and there you have prophecy. You have everything, because that is a real
narrative.
LY Are you saying you think things have definite beginnings and middles and ends, so to speak?
Or is life continuous?
LV There is a continuum, and there are links to things. But nothing pops up out of the blue, in
fact. Things are linkedthere is a chain. And that chain can be seen in the narrative, because the
narrative needs a chain. Otherwise, its sheer luck, serendipity. We dont live in a plotless novel.
The novel of our lives has a very rich plot! And the only thing a writer does is follow that plot as
best she can.
LY Whats your home life like now? Are you living alone?
LV Im living alone. I have a part-time dog, and Im living in the middle of a park. Im
surrounded by wonderful, very nice old trees. People are around.

LY You never feel lonesome?

LV No, I like it.
LY You dont miss the intimacy of a family?
LV My daughters around, friends are around all the time.
LY But not a man?
LV Oh, yeah, sometimes. But then it becomes . . . I dont know. Things are as they are. I always
quarreled with my men.
LY You did?
LV Yes, yes. I was often quite violent. You wouldnt believe it.
LY Well, nonot sitting here. Although I can see your anger on the page.
LV Yes, I dont like to be invaded. I feel invaded easily. I need my privacy more than anything
else. And then I travel all the time.
LY What made you move back to Argentina?
LV New York was becoming too hectic. I was dreaming in English, I was thinking in EnglishI
didnt want that anymore. My novel, Black Novel with Argentines, took me five years and it was
very hard to write. It takes place in New York. It is a very dark piece, a very gutter-like book,
with very, very deep unconscious levels, really hard stuff. I thought that in a sense I was writing
a farewell to New York.
LY Oh, I cant wait to read it.
LV Its very strong. And there is a crime, and again, its a search, not a search for criminals but a
search for the more motive of the crime. And there are two Argentine writers, so it has to do with
writing, it has to do with confusions, and it has to do with the S&M scene in New Yorkwith all
the boundaries you cross, in all senses. It was hard to write. I didnt want to write it half the time,
so then I write this other one (National Reality from the Bed) very quickly.
When Im writing a novel there is a different state. Its like being in a trance. So when youre
reading the novel, youre inside this other situation. Life has another dimension. Everything that
comes into your life has something to do with another. Theres this conflict, there is a voracity,
there is vampirism when youre in your novel.
LY Vampirism?
LV Yes, because when I write I become a vampire. I suck cold blood from anything for a novel.

LY How do you know when to end it?

LV Oh, it abandons you.
LY It abandons you? Oh!
LV Thats it. And you feel awful sometimes. A novel has to have a life of its own. This is when
you know you are writing well.
LY Could you compare the attitude toward work between New York and Buenos Aires, say?
LV Oh, yes. This is one of the reasons I left. Because I started believing in workaholism, and
everything was so desperate, and things had to be done perfectly all right, and I started believing
this New York thing. I saw myself absolutely caught in this trap. And I ran away. I said: this is
not true! I need to respond to the first principle of pataphysics, that says you never have to take
serious things seriously. And here I was, taking things seriously. So I left.

Linda Tablonsky is a freelance writer living in New York. She is currently writing a novel
called That We Live and a performance piece called We Are Not They.