Recorded at Toronto’s Harbourfront Reading Series in 1979, Argentine author, Luisa Valenzuela recruits Founding Artistic Director of the Harbourfront Reading Series, Greg Gatenby, to be her reading partner in a complex story of two cars as they race through the streets of Buenos Aires. In a style that is like no other writer of her generation or since, Valenzuela portrays the cold determination of the hunter and the rising fear of the hunted. Written at the height of the Dirty War, Valenzuela herself was exiled for a number of years though she made the politics and censorship of her country a central theme in much of her writing from this era. Later in this episode, Valenzuela reads a darkly humorous story about the plethora of shoes which are found on the streets, so many that even beggars of the city are “The Best Shod” destitute people in the world. The secret is simple if horrific: they are the shoes of the Disappeared. This recording was used with the kind permission of the author. This episode content was also made with the permission of the Toronto International Festival of Authors (TIFA).
Works by Luisa Valenzuela
The Lizard’s Tail (print book)
The Wanderer by Luisa Valenzuela, translated by Marguerite Feitlowitz (link opens a short story from The Brooklyn Rail's InTranslation)
He Who Searches Latin American Literature Series (link opens Dalkey Archive Press site with two translated works - print on demand)
Collections/Anthologies Containing Stories from Luisa Valenzuela
Sudden Fiction Latino: Short-Short Stories From Latin America and the United States (print book)
Brevity by David Galef
The Will to Heal: Psychological Recovery in the Novels of Latina Writers (print book)
Other Related Books or Materials
Luisa Valenzuela, The Art of Fiction No. 170 (link opens an article from The Paris Review from 2001)
Luisa Valenzuela on Writing, Power and Gender (link opens an article from the Cervantes Virtual Library
About the Host
Novelist Randy Boyagoda is a professor of English at the University of Toronto and principal of St. Michael’s College, where he holds the Basilian Chair in Christianity, Arts, and Letters. He is the author of three novels: Original Prin, Beggar's Feast, and Governor of the Northern Province. His fiction has been nominated for the Scotiabank Giller Prize (2006) and IMPAC Dublin Literary Prize (2012), and named a New York Times Book Review Editor’s Choice Selection (2012 and 2019) and Globe and Mail Best Book (2018). He contributes essays, reviews, and opinions to publications including the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, First Things, Commonweal, Harper’s, Financial Times (UK), Guardian, New Statesman, Globe and Mail, and National Post, in addition to appearing frequently on CBC Radio. He served as President of PEN Canada from 2015-2017.
Music is by Yuka
From the Archives
Writers Off the Page: 40 Years of TIFA is the first series associated with the Toronto Public Library’s multi-year digital initiative, From the Archives, which presents curated and digitized audio, video and other content from some of Canada’s biggest cultural institutions and organizations.
Thanks to the Toronto International Festival of Authors (TIFA) for allowing TPL access to their archives to feature some of the best-known writers in the world from moments in the past. Thanks as well to Library and Archives Canada for generously allowing TPL access to these archives.
Writers Off the Page: 40 Years of TIFA
Luisa Valenzuela: Love of Animals
Season One, Episode 20
[opening music]
Randy Boyagoda (RB): Welcome to Writers Off the Page: 40 Years of TIFA, produced by the Toronto Public Library. I’m Randy Boyagoda. In this episode, Argentine writer Luisa Valenzuela reads a politically-charged story about two cars.
Luisa Valenzuela [TEASER]: Usually corpses are found with both shoes intact. Their clothing, on the other hand, isn't usable. Ordinarily, it has bullet holes, blood stains or it's torn apart, or an electric plug has left burns that are ugly and difficult to hide. So we don't count on the clothes. But the shoes are like new. Generally they are good. They haven't had much wear, because their owners haven't been allowed to get very far in life.
RB: Luisa Valenzuela grew up in Buenos Aires and has spent her life moving back and forth between the literary and the political, both personally and in response to the public life of her native Argentina over decades of broad tumult and specific pressure on artists and intellectuals. It is a very different kind of pressure than what she would have grown up witnessing, the daughter of Luisa Mercedes Levinson, who was a prominent Argentinian writer and hosted leading lights of the local and national literary scene in their family home. In a 2001 interview with The Paris Review, Valenzuela recalls all the many times Jorges Luis Borges came to their house, including the time he and her mother cowrote a story. She remembers hearing laughter from the writing room, from which, eventually, Borges emerged to announce triumphantly that they had had a good work day: they’d written one line. You’ll see a similar kind of care at work in the story Valenzuela reads with help from host Greg Gatenby during this 1979 visit to Toronto — her first public reading in Canada, but hopefully not her last. The story is about the goings on inside and between a blue car and a white car. It’s hard not to understand these cars as figuring the blue and white of the Argentine flag, which in turn invites questions about the kinds of critique encoded into the story itself. Valenzuela has observed that humour and satire are ways of getting around State censorship, something she would have sensed directly as a journalist for Argentinian newspapers in the 1960s, before leaving for the United States in the 1970s, sensing she could not write freely in the midst of what’s since been called the country’s Dirty War. As to what she in turn wrote, it wasn’t surrealist, as some critics have suggested, but rather, as she puts it, “realist in excess.” Only that kind of writing would convey the tension and terror that people felt while living under a repressive and brutal regime, and also the enduring dignity they cultivated and kept vital, for themselves and others. Again, as you’ll see, the playing out of this dynamic is satirical; consider, for example, the wonders of beggars having shoes while living on streets strewn with dead bodies. It’s exactly that kind of provocation – politically-provoked but humane and literary in response – that features in Valenzuela’s work, and very much it’s what she wants to tell of in her many books and talk about with her readers.
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Greg Gatenby (GG): When Rothmans first approached me to do the idea of something for the celebration of Los Miles, I made a mistake of assuming since letters were coming from Luisa Valenzuela to me from Mexico. And that she kept talking about how much she love the country that she was Mexican. She's not. Sometimes she wishes she was I think. She's from Argentina. And she's going to read in Spanish and in English. And with some assistance from yours truly later on. But she has news of her discoveries. So would you welcome please for her first reading in Canada, Luisa Valenzuela.
[applause]
Luisa Valenzuela (LV): Don't be frightened, we will then read in English. But I'll have to say two words in Spanish. I told Greg that I wasn't from Mexico long ago. So he knew it before I was here. But I had pieces from Mexico.
[foreign language]
LV: Greg if you want to help me with this reading in English, please. We'll do a reading in two voices. This is a short story of a book that I wrote during the violence in Argentina. And these things, violence was going on very strongly in the streets. And I thought that the only way I could relate to that very different situation from what I had lived before, was writing a book of short stories. And some are quite funny. Like this, we're going to read together with Greg. And an after thought was that perhaps I had used the humour to avoid censorship, because the censorship is very strong in our countries. So we'll read the story. Of course, it's all men in the story. I'm sorry, I have to assume two men roles and Greg will assume two others. This is a story that's called Love For Animals. Blue car, it's divided between the people in the blue car and the people in the white car. Blue car: Now, that we established that it's a person and not a Spaniel, we proceed to a second question, man or woman? A long time goes by and we still haven't come up with an answer.
LV: It'll get where its going eventually. Not us. We're getting nowhere. Ask us anything you like. The former level sulphur tri-oxide, or how to tie notes and words of an even number of dimensions, and we'll be able to answer. But don't ask us, which sign is the right one. A little circle with an arrow pointing up or a little circle with a cross below it or just a plain little circle like a zero or an asshole. I say to Sebastian, "Look old pal we've got to come up with an answer, in one way or the other. Wherever it's going, to get there eventually. And it's discouraging for us not to know to what sex it belongs. Sometimes of course, the opposite one or the same one." Well Luke won't tell us that, however. And I say to Sebastian, "Step on it old man. Let's see if we can catch him-her." All I get for an answer is, "Shut up you drab, your big prick." Because he's glued to the steering wheel and we start calling the mysterious character in the other car, Lola. If it turns out to be a boy, we'll call him Lalo, I think. But he'll be some dish because he's got a head of hair that makes you want to stick it in your mouth and suck it nice and slow like cotton candy. Man, I must be a fairy thinking of things like that.
LV: But I'm no queer that's for sure. I'd far rather have it turn out to be Lola. Not to mention having it close, right here on my lap. And I say to say Sebastian, "Sebas, old boy, step on it. It's getting away." And he does. And clings to a curve following the other one's tail and weaves in and out of the traffic, cool as anything. Zigzagging with real style, 'cause that's what Buenos Aires' cabs are made for. Lake holes and dribbling and kids in the sleds, sensational dodgers chasing after the greatest stasis in all creation. "Give it the lead foot, save us. Put it right down to the floor. Just look at it diving through there. It's asking for it. Lola or Lalo in that white job with a chauffeur. Haul ass man. We've got to get a better look at that puss on that character."
GG: White car: "Don't turn around, we're being followed." "Maybe you're just imagining it." "Make a sharp right. Still there?" "Still there." "Federal coordination?" "I don't think so. It's blue alright. But an old model. And no antenna. Speed up and make it through the light." "What are they up to?" "They're going through the red light." "Nobody's flagging them down?" "No." A bad sign. "Do you think they recognize me?" "Not with that wig." "How many are there?" "Two." "Could be another two hiding in the back seat?" "Strange, don't turn around, just keep watching in the rear view mirror. Make a sharp left the first chance you get." "Are they still behind us?" "Yes."
LV: Blue car: "Come on old man. Floor it so we can catch up with them. It's worth it. Listen man, we can't just sit here with our asses hanging out and have somebody barge in ahead of us." "Just look at that beauty go. And with a sure foot too. That must be some piece of tail, maybe a TV star." "Must be scared of getting kidnapped, that little darling, that sweetie pie. But that's not what we've got in mind, baby doll. We wouldn't hurt a hair of your precious little head. Come on over here and let me lick you lover, honey." "Hey save us. Don't get all hot and horny." "Come on, cool it, keep a good grip at the wheel. Look at how it took that curve." "What about that?" "Wow! Just like her curves. Exactly the same." "How much you bet?" "What a bitch. That guy is not a speed demon. He's a slalom expert. Come on, floor it. This cat's gonna catch you any way, little mouse. You stuck up little rat, sitting there, stiff as a boat. Not turning your hair. Come on mouse turn around. We want to see who you are."
GG: White car: "Can't shake them. I'd say we're in bad trouble. Let's pull over and play dumb or put up a fight. We can't keep going forever, there's not much gas left. And going into the garage would be suicide." "Parking would be even more suicidal with everything we've got in here. I can't understand why they haven't turned on the siren. They'd have caught us long ago. And they don't seem to have radio equipment do they?" "I don't think so. Otherwise we'd have had patrol cars on our backs by now." "Strange. They may be off duty. Make a sharp right."
LV: Blue car: "Where the hell are they taking us?" "We're clear out in the boonstocks." "Listen, where we headed anyway? That's one sure playing hard to get. Careful, make a right." No one ever discovered why the occupants of the white car suddenly slowed down. They didn't live to explain why. The two men in the blue car on the other hand, have more than enough time to explain. In jail they are subjected, endlessly, to what in those pressings are called interrogations. But they haven't the slightest idea of what to say or what to make of the whole thing. "Who were the two guys in the white car?" "So they were both guys? For God's sake." "Where were they headed? Who were the guns for? Where were they going?"
LV: "What were the two guys names? What organization? Who were the leaders? Where were they headed? Who were the guns for? What were the two guys names? The two guys?" Reporting the news item and great detail, the afternoon papers said that the terrorists two cars, one blue and one white, ended up a single twisted mess, that was like a rosette in the Argentine national colors, as a sign of protest, though it is not known whether against events or against exaggerated metaphors of the local press. A vanguard painters, immediately invented crash art. And the first representative work of the school was entitled National Coalition. The two men in the white car, never knew that thanks to them a battered sub-machine gun, came to be considered a work of art for excellence. The two men in the blue car, don't give a damn about works of art.”
[applause]
LV: I think I'll read you a sad one. And then I'll skip over to Spanish for a while. This is called “The Best Shod.” An invasion of beggars, but there's one consolation. No one lacks shoes. There are more than enough shoes to go around. Sometimes it is true. A shoe has to be taken off some severed leg, found in the underbrush. But it's of no use, except to somebody with only one good leg. But this doesn't happen very often. Usually corpses are found with both shoes intact. Their clothing on the other hand, isn't usable. Ordinarily, it has bullet holes, blood stains or it's torn apart, or an electric plug has left burns that are ugly and difficult to hide. So we don't count on the clothes. But the shoes are like new. Generally they are good. They haven't had much wear, because their owners haven't been allowed to get very far in life. They poke out their heads, they start thinking. Thinking doesn't wear out shoes. And after just a few steps, their career is cut off. That is to say, we find shoes. And since they're not always the size we need, we've set up a little exchange post in a vacant lot downtown.
LV: We charge only a few pesos for the service. You can't ask much from a beggar. But even so, it does help to pay for maté and some biscuits. We earn real money only when we manage to have a real sale. Sometimes the families of the dead people, who've heard of us, heaven knows how, ask us to sell them the dead man's shoes if we have them. The shoes are the only thing that they can bury. Poor things. Because naturally the authorities will never let them have the body. It's too bad that a good pair of shoes drops out of circulation. But we have to live, and we can't refuse to work for a good cause. Ours is a true apostolate. And that's what the police think too. So they never bother us, as we search about in vacant lots, sewer conduits, fallow fields, thickets, and other nooks and crannies where a corpse may be hidden.
LV: The police are well aware of that. Thanks to us, this city can boast of being the one with the best shod beggars in the world.
[applause]
___
Randy Boyagoda: Luisa Valenzuela was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in 1938. She grew up in a very literary household, the oldest daughter of prominent Argentinian writer Luisa Mercedes Levinson. Her father, a physician, died at an early age and her mother remarried a newspaper editor. Valenzuela attended prestigious schools in Buenos Aires, traveled internationally as a young person, and worked as a journalist in the 1960s. She later studied at the University of Iowa’s Writing Program, which led to her novel Cat-o-Nine-Deaths, which was published in 1972, by which point she was already an established writer in Argentina and regularly traveling and living in Mexico, Paris, Barcelona, and New York. Her books, many of which have won major awards in Argentina and elsewhere, often focus on the challenges faced by women living in both poverty and repressive political situations. She has taught at New York University and Columbia.
The audio recording of Luisa Valenzuela, recorded on stage at Harbourfront Reading Series in 1979, is used with the kind permission of Luisa Valenzuela and the Toronto International Festival of Authors. As always, thanks to TIFA, the Toronto International Festival of Authors, for allowing us access to their archives. Find out more at FestivalOfAuthors.ca.
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Writers Off the Page: 40 Years of TIFA is a year-long podcast series that celebrates 40 years of the Toronto International Festival of Authors. It's produced by the Toronto Public Library. The Executive Producer is Gregory McCormick. This episode was produced by Gregory McCormick and me, Randy Boyagoda, with technical support from George Panayotou and Michelle De Marco, marketing support from Tanya Oleksuik, and research support from Marcella van Run.
For more about Writers Off the Page: 40 Years of TIFA, visit writersoffthepage.ca where you will find links to the books mentioned in each episode and links to other relevant materials in TPL’s collections. For all of Toronto Public Library's podcasts series, check out tpl.ca/podcasts.
Music is by YUKA.
I'm Randy Boyagoda and we'll be back soon with another episode of Writers Off the Page: 40 Years of TIFA.