The author’s first novel is set in Mexico City, but its themes of violence, grief, and solitude are truly global.
“A writer worried about reception is cooking a dead book. A writer’s job is to produce the best possible book in absolute freedom, so the category ‘acceptable’ does not play in the process at all.”
“What distinguishes the writer from the reader is that the writer goes first.”
From the train I could look out onto the infinite blue of the sea. I was still exhausted, wakeful from the overnight transatlantic flight to Rome, but looking out at the sea, that Mediterranean sea that was so infinite and so blue, made me forget it all, even myself. I don’t know why.
On Iván Repila’s The Boy Who Stole Attila’s Horse
The Catalan author of The No World Concerto talks about his early collaborations with Roberto Bolaño and the slew of novels that followed a lengthy hiatus from writing.
Cities haunted by ghosts, ghosts that are a metaphor for language in their haunting doubling and mistranslations, language that’s full of holes, while the holes themselves are suggestive of abandoned places and writing that fails to describe anything accurately enough—this is Valeria Luiselli’s terrain.
Cuba’s detective-fiction author spins an epic tale on Trotsky and his assassin in The Man Who Loved Dogs.
Read the Original Spanish language text de esta conversation.
Enrique Vila-Matas’s characters include James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Paul Auster, and even Enrique Vila-Matas. The Catalan author talks with Meruane about his distinct method of interlacing reading, writing, fact, and fiction.
Open Letter, 2009
Mercè Rodoreda (1908–1983), often acclaimed as the greatest modern Catalan author, worked as a seamstress and wrote novels while in exile in France and Switzerland for over 20 years during Franco’s regime.
This First Proof contains the short story “Hypertension,” translated by Beatriz Cortez.
“Unlike philosophical thinking, which demands an argument without logical flaws and contradictions, literary thinking allows you to contradict yourself. A character within a book can say two totally contradictory things, yet both can be true. Shakespeare does that all the time.”
Now that I know my friend Claudia is a widow—following her husband’s death from natural causes—I keep remembering one particular night in Paris six months ago…
In June 1920 a bomb exploded at the Teatro Naçional in Havana.