Interview with Mario Vargas Llosa, 25 February 2002

N-no ice please

Oh oh....

Sorry

I'm just going to have to leave it there.

Anyway, perhaps if we could start talking about the new novel, first of all

Very well [laughter]

And the obvious question is, why Trujillo? Why now you go to the Dominican Republic after writing so many books about Peru?

Mmhm

I realize that one was about Brazil and so on....

Well, you know, this novel was born because in 1975, I went to the Dominican Republic for a film. And I stayed there almost eight months.

And during these months, I heard so many anecdotes, stories about Trujillo. And I also read some books about what was life in the Dominican Republic during those 31 years of the Trujillo regime.

And I was really fascinated, well, terrified and fascinated with the extremes that Trujillo reached. I think he went much more to the extremes that all Latin American dictatorships in violence, in corruption, and also in theatricalities.

I think he was a kind of showman, not only a very cruel and very shoot person, very corrupt, of course, but also a showman.

And in a way, you can say that during these 31 years, life in the Dominican Republic was a kind of national farce, an operatic farce, orchestrated by this man who had practically total control of people and could convert people in extras.... in the actors of a very sinister....show.

Well, that gave me the idea of the novel. Since then, since 1975, I ha-had the idea. And since then, I started to read and to interview people, take notes.

Had-had you ever met him in his lifetime?

No. Oh, no.

He was killed in '61 and the first time I went to the Dominican Republic was in '75.

Mhm. When did you start writing the book then?

It took me three years, more or less.

So I started, the book was published in Spanish two years ago. So five years ago. And I went many times to the Dominican Republic.

When I started to write the book, people were much more willing to talk.

All-I think the taboo was already finishing so people were much more open to...

Time had passed, in other words.

Yeah.

And not only the enemies, also, but the collaborators and the friends of the regime.

I had incredible conversations with people who worked with him and who still talked about Trujillo with a kind of religious respect, you know?

How close does the novel cue to the reality of the events?

It's a novel. It's not a history book.

So I took many, many liberties with history. But the only limitation that I imposed on myself was I'm not going to invent anything that couldn't have happened within the framework of what was life in the Dominican Republic. And I think I have respected this.

I have invented characters. The-Let's say the historic characters I have treated with the freedom that you treat invented characters. I have used historic characters for the invented characters.

But well what usually novelists do, eh?

I have respected the basic facts, you know? the basic facts. But I have changed and deformed many things in order to make more, let's say, persuasive the story.

But unlike what readers think, I have not exaggerated.

On the contrary, in certain cases, I have attenuated what was the violence during those years. Because I think the objective history is totally unbelievable. You can't really believe all the things that happened during those years.

And whether in fact or fiction, I guess we can't believe it.

Um--Urania and her father are the principal invented characters, yes? Is that

The what?

Urania and her father.

Urania and his father are invented characters.

Well, I suppose there were many Uranias in Trujillo's life, you know? But the character is invented.

Her father is invented, but it follows more or less a very close collaborator of Trujillo, who was, well, falling disgrace. And suddenly, as a Cerebrito Cabral, lost everything in just a few hours, you know? His money, his power, his friends, his prestigious life.

And that's something that Trujillo used to do systematically. Just to disseminate fear, insecurity among, among his own people.

It was a way to keep everybody on the alert, eh? And to encourage, how can I say, this kind of servility towards him.

He was very shoot. He was not a cultivated person. But he was, he knew very well human weaknesses. And he knew how to manipulate appetites. And he was very cold. Very cold in a very passionate country.

And he was convinced that everybody has a price, so that everybody could be corrupt. And what is terrible is that during those 31 years, he almost managed to prove that he was right. [laughter]

As is the case of many Latin American dictators. Well, many dictators, not only Latin Americans, hm?

How would you compare him to other dictators... his record compared...

I think, well, he had more or less all the common trends of a Latin American dictator but pushed to the extremes. In cruelty, I think he went far, far away from the rest. And in corruption too.

Maybe the big differences was that unlike, let's say, Somoza, or in the case of Peru, Fujimori, money had not this attraction, this abstract attraction.

Money did not?

No, no, no.

He was not interested in money. He used money, of course, because it was an instrument of corruption. But this was one of the big fights between him and his wife. His wife, yes. She was...

She was salting away money and switching things like that

Oh oh yeah-but hiding this from Trujillo, because Trujillo didn't want his family to take money outside the country.

Well, in the last two years, when he started to decline, you know, he forbidden that any Dominican took money abroad, you know? And if one tried to do it, well, he lost his property and his patrimony. So the family was sending money, but in a very discrete way, against Trujillo's will, you know?

And in his life, his sexual potency was an important thing.

Oh, essential.

Well, that's a common trend in Latin American dictators, eh? Africans too, you know? General Abacha. You remember how he died? [laughter]

But that was one of the first things that puzzled me in '75 when I was in the Dominican Republic. He went to bed with many women, but he went to bed with his minister's wives, for example.

And you got the impression that he did that, not only because he liked these ladies, but because it was a way to put his ministers at a test.

He wanted to know if they were ready to accept this kind of humiliation, the extreme humiliation in a machista country, you know?

That was the extreme humiliation for a Dominican, you know? And many ministers accepted and were prepared to play this, let's say, well, grotesque role. And they remained loyal to Trujillo even after the killing of Trujillo.

So this...so when I mean corruption, I am thinking things like this, you know?

Well, then certainly you have the father actually giving his daughter, which is sort of the only thing It's the first choice, not just the one.

Well, this is something that happened, you know? I had a very interesting conversation with one of his secretaries, Khalil Asha. Ashe. Khalil Ashe.

He's a very nice person. By the way, he was very kind. He organized a dinner for me with former Trujillistas. It was an unbelievable experience. And he told me, he told me, each time that El Jefe went in tourney by the interior, there were many fathers. Modest people, peasants who brought their daughters as a gift to the Jefe.

And the Jefe didn't know what to do with these girls because...And I said, but this is true, absolutely true. And they were very proud, you know? My daughter for the Jefe, for El Jefe. It was not only because they wanted favors in exchange, it was because it was a normal.

So the society was deeply, deeply corrupt by the system, you know? He was a kind of god. And so everything that touched the god was good, you know, was of value.

Sounds like something out of the Middle Ages. I mean king and...

Yeah.

Well, nothing of this is uncommon. I think this happens in all dictatorships, but not with the theatricality that happened with Trujillo. I think Trujillo had the opportunity, as he was a natural born actor, to make life a kind of big, big show in which he could materialize all his fantasies, his appetites. And he did these incredible things, you know?

He made his elder son, Ramfis, a colonel when Ramfis was nine years old, and a general when he was, I think, 12 or 13 with a military parade, you know? And ambassadors had to attend with tales, you know? And it was grotesque. And at the same time, the reality was very, how you say, submissive to this power.

Is there one reason why the people loved him so much?

Why people love dictators? This is not an exception. And this is not an exclusive trend of underdeveloped countries. The Germans were the most cultivated people in Europe, you know? The most cultivated people in Europe. And they loved Hitler. They really loved Hitler, you know? And the Italians were very cultivated too. And they had Mussolini, you know?

And I think this is what Popper called the attraction of the tribe. You want to be liberated of all responsibilities when you submit yourself to a dictator, someone who takes all the decisions for you. That, for many, many people, in spite of culture, in spite of knowledge, is a kind of relief, eh?

It's a big puzzle, eh? How...

I think you're saying in passing that one of his worst crimes, in a sense, was taking away the free will of the people.

I think so.

I think this is probably the worst crime in a dictatorship. You destroy these basic decency of people. And people became really very, very corrupt. They are prepared to accept everything, sometimes not for selfish reasons. On the contrary, they are prepared to become slaves, because a dictator is someone who takes responsibility for you.

What I try to show in the book is that a dictatorship can always be resisted at the beginning. It's always possible to resist, to put some frame to obstacles, to this increasing power. But what is terrible with dictators? And it's not only the case of Trujillo, you know? Look at Venezuela today, Chavez. Well, now Chavez is in decline. But for years, the Venezuelans, in spite...

Colombia had a story today, in fact.

Colombia had a story today in the paper about it. I was telling Colombia about holding back the rebels and all the Colombians.

Oh yeah well... But at least Colombia has a democratic tradition. But Venezuela is sad, because Venezuela has had so many dictatorships.

So Venezuelans know very well what a dictatorship is, you know?

The country has experienced grotesque dictatorships, Perez-Jimenez. And they were ready to accept the demagogue, like Chavez, you know?

I think they are reacting now, happily. But see, it's very sad. Argentina had Perón, a very civilized country, Argentina, with a high national education. And they accepted Perón, who was a grotesque demagogue, you know?

Well, in my country, it's very sad what has happened with Fujimori. He was so popular. He was so popular when he did the coup d'etat in 1992. He was very popular, you know?

The minority which resisted became very, very popular, no? People were seduced with the idea of the strong man, you know? This is deeply, I think, rooted in the human spirit. The democratic culture is very reduced, very superficial. You have to preserve it to keep it alive, because it can very easily be a regression. You don't know this in the United States, but this is the case in many very civilized and cultivated countries.

Given all of that, why did you want to become president of Peru?

Because I was an idiot, you know? [laughs]

I don't think there is another explanation [laughs]

No you know, there were circumstances. I thought that I could help. I was very naive [laughter] very naive.

But I learned a lot. It was a very instructive experience.

Okay. What if you had won?

Well, I would have tried to do what I promised, you know? I want to think that if I had won, there wouldn't have been a Montecinos running the country for 10 years, nor all the tremendous corruption and brutality of these last 10 years in Peru, you know? But who knows? Who knows?

Well, one serious question. If you had won, would you have written the books that you've written since you didn't win? I mean, for instance, this book in fact?

Yes. Well, for five years, I would have stopped writing novels. I would have written a lot of speeches, I suppose. But since the first moment, I understood that I was not a politician, that that was something that I was imposing on myself.

And I never thought, never, that I would quit literature. No. I always thought that this was a temporary experience, because exceptional conditions. And in a way, I was relieved when I lost the election, and I could go back to my books and my vocation.

Except that once you realized what Fujimura became, there must have been a great regret in your heart.. that you didn't become...

Yes, it was a great regret. Well, one of the reasons why I went into politics was because I thought that democracy was so fragile, so fragile, so weak, that could collapse. And that it would be such a tragedy. It was very, very important to try to save democracy, to preserve it, to reinforce it.

And when in 1992 came the coup. Of course I.... But it was not totally unexpected. This was coming up. This was coming up.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have been a candidate. Certainly not, no.

In writing this book, did you put any of yourself into your characterization of Balaguer?

If I put myself into...

Your characterization of Balaguer?

Well, not consciously, at least, no.

He's a fascinating character.

Was he really like that?

Well, I don't think I have been disloyal to what he really is. Maybe he's more complex. Maybe he's less complex than my character. I don't know.

But I had three long conversations with him when I was writing the novel, three. And he was so clever to evade difficult questions.

He was a kind of, how do you say in English, an anguilla.

Eel.

An eel. Ooh!

He was absolutely, um. And I said to him, Dr. Balaguer, you are a cultivated man. You have read a lot.

A poet!

You have written quite decently, you know?

How could you for 31 years serve with such loyalty and competence, you know, against us and live surrounded by criminals and by the worst kind of human being?

And he said to me, look, when I was young, I wanted to be a politician. I had many sisters to take care of. If I went into exile, I wouldn't have been a politician. And I wondered if I would have been able to support my sisters.

So the only way in which you could do politics during those days was with Trujillo. So that's what I did.

And since the beginning, I said I'm not going to do two things: I'm not going to participate in sexual orgies with Trujillo [laughter] and I'm not going to steal one dollar.

And he said to me, and I have done this. I have never steal one dollar, and I have never participated in a Trujillo orgy [laughter]

I said this is the secret of your power? [laughter]

Well. Well, you also say in passing that the phrase was never for any reason lose your composure was his motto.

That's right.

Never lose your composure. With all this happening around you?

Another wonderful phrase of Balaguer was in my five presidencies, corruption has arrived to the door of my office, but it has never entered my office. [laughter]

Well, he's a poor man. He has no money, only power. He has got tremendous power, but no, he's a no, I think it's only power. That was his only passion in life, you know?

It was such a quiet colorless. Withdrawn....

Oh, yeah, he was very quiet. He managed to fool Trujillo, which was very difficult, you know? He was put in the presidency because Trujillo said publicly to many collaborators, you know, Balaguer has no ambitions. [laughter]

That's the reason why he must be the president. He has no ambitions.

But he really did, though, didn't he?

Of course.

I think he had, but he was so clever. He knew that the last symptom of political ambition was the end of his career with Trujillo.

In direct contrast, you have your characterization of the, what's his name, Hugo Romero.

Yes.

Who should have been the leader of the revolution, and then suddenly he froze and was not able to. What is his story?

Well, I think it's a very, well, this is absolutely historic. It happens exactly like that. Pupo Roman was the chief of the army. The second in command after Trujillo, he was very powerful. He was married with Trujillo, no daughter, but a sobrina [interjection "niece"] a niece of Trujillo, Trujillo niece.

But he hated Trujillo because Trujillo humiliated him systematically, publicly.

He was a sewage, for example.

Yeah, exactly.

And he was in the conspiracy, and he was, well, he had the responsibility of the coup d'etat, the establishing of a military junta, to call elections, you know? He had the green lights of the United States, of the State Department.

But he wanted to see the corpse. He said that. I need to see the corpse.

But then he was paralyzed. And I don't think this was because he was a coward, because he was not a coward. He was very courageous during the three months in which Ramfis tortured him in an incredible way with doctors who resuscitated him in order to be tortured again, you know?

All testimonies are that he was very, very courageous during this incredible, you know, agony.

But he had Trujillo inside himself. Trujillo was there like a super ego. And I think that's what happened with millions of Dominicans. Trujillo was inside them, you know, and governing their instincts, their elementary fears. And that was horrendous, you know, the kind of mental slavery. And I think Pupo Roman is the best, is the emblematic case of this.

But the expectations were there. I mean, he had so many moments at the point of the assassination when he could have acted, could have done something. And he's just unable to...

He was unable because he was paralyzed. He was paralyzed because if you kill God, you became really so insecure and confused. And that's what happened to him, you know? God was dead.

What do you do in a world without God? He hated this God, but it was God, you know?

It's the only explanation because he knew perfectly well that he would pay, that he would be known, that he was in the conspiracy.

[inaudible]

Absolutely, there was no way to escape. But he tried to escape against all reason. A very pathetic, tragic case. Oh, I have respected. It's one of the episodes in which I have respected history more, you know?

Did you change your mind about Trujillo as you wrote the book at all? Did you get any different feelings about...

Oh, no, no, not at all.

What I try in the novel, because there is always a big danger when you write about a dictator. And it's that to present him not as a human being, but as a monster. Hitler was a monster. Stalin was a monster. Mao was a monster. Trujillo was a monster.

Actually, they were human beings. They were human beings. And they became monsters because a whole society was pushing them to be monsters, to be gods, you know?

And if a society converts you in a god, you become a monster. I think that's what was, for me, a very important goal, to describe Trujillo as a human being, to show that he was a human being transformed in this monstrous human being, but not only because his excesses, his appetites, but because this servilismo, service.

A [inaudible]

Servilismo, your servility. This object, subordination. This abdication to all kind of critical attitude towards power, towards. I think this responsibility of a society in the making of a dictator, I think, is much more important if you want to be near reality, than to present a dictator like a natural catastrophe.

I don't think that dictators are natural catastrophes. I think they are human choices in a given moment, in which the big, big responsibility is for society.

And in many cases, they walk into a vacuum, so to speak.

Yes.

I think that's one of the reasons why they become popular. They give order when there is chaos. And people want order when people is completely, well, that's what happened in Peru with Fujimori. Terrorism, hyperinflation, all this created such insecurity. Probably that's one reason to explain Chavez in Venezuela. It was chaos. It was instability. People felt so insecure. Well, that's what happened in the Dominican Republic too. Before Trujillo, there was a chaotic situation in which local lords were fighting among themselves. And there was no order, you know?

But if you want order, and only order, you produce Trujillo.

Or Hitler and you got the...

Yeah, exactly.

The autobahns are there.

Exactly. [laughs] Yes.

In any case, as a non-politician, as a writer, you've been able to do more about politics, would you say, through your writings?

Yes.

You've been able to do more and say more about political matters than if you were a politician yourself? I mean...

Well, I don't, well, it's difficult to answer this question because we don't know what is the real influence of literature in life.

I think there is an important influence of literature in life.

You don't think that it causes revolutions, though at all so the literature will not....

Well, I know that it's impossible to prove this influence.

But I don't believe that literature is only entertainment, even a very sophisticated entertainment. No, I think literature is something that transforms itself in behavior, in morals, in attitudes, in a very subtle way through the rivers. But I am convinced that what I am now is something that owes a lot to the great writers I have read. And that without these books and without these readings, I would be a poorer person than I am, more mediocre. My life would be much more restricted.

My vision, my horizon, my sensibility would be much more mediocre than what they are. Because the great writers I have read, you cannot prove this. But at least in one aspect, I think literature is extraordinarily influential on people's life, the critical attitude towards the real world.

I think if you can be contaminated by the great fictitious words of literature, you are much less prepared to accept the real world as it is. I think you are much more in a critical, even in a rebellious attitude towards the real world, towards reality.

And in this sense, I think literature is a very great, how can I say, a great instrument for dignity, for freedom. I think literature gives you all the time, very concrete demonstrations that the world is bad made. That the real world cannot really fulfill all the expectations.

But you said that half the people in Spain have never read a book.

No.

Well, never bought, have never bought a book.

That's the very depressing survey.

And probably true in many other countries.

Well, but this was a very serious survey made by the Association of Writers. And half of the Spaniards have never bought a book. But there is something to add to these statistics.

Libraries?

No, no.

Spain has 40 million people. And in Spain, Spaniards buy more or less the same numbers of books that all Hispanic America, which has 250 million people. So that gives you an idea of the big, big, big gap with Spain, which is not the first reading country in the world.

So the gap is really astronomical. It's very, very worrying.

Well, there is the important question, too. What people are reading?

Yes.

This is also. But this is more a serious problem in developed and civilized countries.

Because there is this paradox. In underdeveloped countries, few people read.

In underdeveloped countries, few people read. But usually, they read the good books. In Latin America, few people read by comparison with France or with England.

But what Latin Americans are reading until now are more or less the good writers.

The big problem is in the United States, in England, in France. When you look the bestseller lists, it becomes very depressing. Because they are reading, well, trash literature, purely entertaining literature. Why is that? Why is this?

Is it wrong to read trash, to read entertainment?

Oh, I think it's better to read good literature. I think it's much better to read, I don't know, Faulkner than Cretien.

Oh, I think it's much more entertaining. Of course, you have to make much more effort, much more intellectual effort. But the rewarding is much more richer, you know? Than that when you read trash.

I think the problem is of education and also the decline of the critics. Critics are not having the influence that they used to have.

You're also a critic.

Well, I am a novelist, but I do some.

You write criticism.

Si. Sometimes, yes. Yes, I like it. Yeah. I like it.

Do you have to like something to review it?

Yes.

Yes.

Oh, yes.

Only in exceptional circumstances I write against books. I write against ideas, but against poems or novels. I usually don't do it. I write when I am enthusiastic about something, you know?

I was curious. In one of your pieces, this was one about literature. You said you were defining words, Borgesian as an entry into a fantastical universe, Kafkaesque as the impetent feeling of the isolated individual, Orwellian, the terrible anguish generated by dictatorships.

Mhm

All very valid. But I was wondering, could you define what Vargas--Llo-Llosean would be?

Oh, well, I can answer with a Borges quotation. Say, when you look yourself at a mirror, you don't know how your face is. You don't know if you are handsome or very ugly. It's very difficult. You don't really know. I would like my books to have the same influence that the great writers that I admire, but I really don't know what my own books are, you know? I don't know. I cannot measure them with the minimal objectivity that I can value, books of others.

Well, could you say what you're trying to do in your...

Oh, yes. Yes.

I, well, as a novelist, what I want is to create a world that can be persuasive by itself, by its language, its mythology, the strength of its characters. When I went to defend certain ideas, cultural or political or social, I write essays or articles and fiction for me is something much more mysterious, something that is not depending on actuality, something that in my case always came from very deep images.

I always, as in the case of Trujillo, I have chosen themes to write novels about in a way in which my impression is that I am not so free to chosen them, that I've been chosen by these themes because something has happened to me or something has been there in my life that is pushing me towards certain themes and excluding others. And I have the impression when I write a novel that my whole personality is involved and not only reason but also unreason, not only knowledge but also irrational drives, you know, emotions.

And like what happened when I write an article or an essay in which I think that I have total rational control of what I am doing. No, when I write a novel, I try to open these doors of the inner part of the personality because I think probably the richest matter that is behind these themes come from the secret part of the personality, you know?

Does that mean they're in effect two different personalities or?

No, I think a rational, rationality is just an aspect of your personality. And I think this is the dominant factor when you write, at least this is my case when I write an article or when I write an essay.

But when I write fiction, and not only novels, plays too, I have the impression that my total personality is involved. Reason but also unreason.

Ideas but also instincts, intuitions, irrational drives, passions, and all this creates a kind of matter which is sometimes a surprise to myself, you know?

I discovered that I am returning to certain situations probably because there is some kind or trauma or something that is deeply hiden--hide-hidden--hide-- hidden in my life, which is behind my literary vocation.

I was partly thinking something along those lines when I asked before whether you changed your mind about Trujillo when you were writing the book. And I wondered, does the book change as you write it? Are you surprised by things that come up?

Oh, yes. Yes, I am.

Oh, yes.

Always the book, well, the novel is always different of what was my first idea of the novel, always. And sometimes very, very different, you know?

Even in the case of Trujillo, which I knew more or less what would be the structure, the trajectory of the story. At the end, for example, I never thought that Urania would become such an important character, maybe the most important character.

It was also a surprise for me the way in which Balaguer imposed himself and became almost as important as Trujillo, you know?

That's something that was happening without being planned, you know?

When you started, you had the three stories planned.

Yeah, I have a lot of, well, trajectories. That's what I need before I start writing, trajectories, a character that starts here and finishes here, and they cross and they cross in this way or another.

That gives me the basic assurance in order to start writing.

But then during the process, which is always fascinating and full of surprises, you know, things start to change because certain characters suddenly take a shape, you know, become more important presences. And others, on the contrary, decline and pass to the second role.

And all this is fascinating because I don't think I have 100% control of this, I mean rational control, you know. And that's what excites me more when I am writing a novel. This is really a great incentive, you know?

The other thing is here you're dealing with real historical characters.

Yes.

I mean, they're totally a work of the imagination. I mean, it's a work of the imagination, but it's not.

Well, in my case, there is never purely imagination. Even the novels in which I have been less, let's say, detached of personal experience to write, I think there is always a root with this in my memory and certain images that are the raw material are to fantasize, to imagine, you know?

I need this kind of personal involvement at the beginning. Then I think the story takes off. But at the beginning, I need this personal involvement with the story.

Does that mean that there's an autobiographical element in all the books?

Oh, I think there is an autobiographical element in all novels.

I think it's impossible to fantasize 100% on a story.

I think stories are, I think the point of departure is something that is deeply close to what your life is.

And then, of course, not the point of arrival is always very different. If not, I think it's a bad novel. But the beginning for me, well, maybe because that is my case, I don't think in any novel I've written, I have invented everything.

No.

And it's also true of Flaubert and Faulkner

Oh, of Flaubert and Fau-- except it's obvious.

I think all of the, maybe those writers are the writers I prefer because I feel so close to them in the way I create, I build my stories.

What are you reading now as a reader?

Well, I'm reading a lot of books because the novel I am writing. I am writing about Flora Tristan and Paul Gauguin.

About what?

Flora Tristan and Paul Gauguin. Flora Tristan was the grandmother of of Paul Gauguin, the painter.

A very interesting character, 19th century woman who was a social agitator. Very courageous, very idealistic, and with a tragic history.

And his personality was very similar to the--to her grandchild because Gauguin was, as her, so stubborn and also idealistic, you know.

They were looking for the paradise, different kind of paradises.

She wanted a paradise of social justice, of equality, no more discrimination of women, total equality. But it was a paradise, you know?

So she went into all the anarchist sects and she was a San Simonian, a San Simon follower, a Charles Fourier follower.

And finally, as she couldn't fit, you know, exactly in any of these movements and sects, you know, she created her own sect.

But it was this persecution of paradise. And I think Gauguin was the same you know. Gauguin went to La Martinique, to Panama, and then to Tahiti, and finally to the Marquesan Islands looking for the paradise.

Not a social paradise. He was not interested at all in social justice, on the contrary. [laughter]

But a paradise of beauty.

Beauty is something which was shared by the whole society. And he saw that this was impossible to reach in Europe because art, beauty had become in Europe a monopoly of a very small coterie of artists, collectors, critics.

And that art was completely cut from the common people. And he had this idea that only in primitive cultures, beauty was still as religion, as a common patrimony, a common expression.

And he went to look for this and looking for more primitive cultures. And as he didn't find it, he invented it in his paintings.

But the personalities of both were very, very close, you know?

Could you say where the idea for the book came from?

It came when I read. It came when I was young, a university student, and I read a book by Flora Tristan called Peregrinesiones de una Paria. Well, a French book, Peregrinesiones de un Paria. How do you say that? Pilgrims of a Paria?

Pilgrim of a Paria.

No, Peregrinaje.

Peregrinaje, pilgrim.

Pilgrimage of a Paria.

Fantastic book in which she tells about a year that she spent in Peru in 1830.

It's a fantastic description of what was a new Latin American republic still deeply contaminated by the colony from the perspective of a French, let's say, liberated woman.

And I became fascinated with her case, you know, because she decided in Arequipa, a southern Peruvian city, to change the world.

She decided there to declare war to this unjust world, which was discriminating women, treating women as second-class citizens. And it was a real declaration of war. And she started an incredible life.

For 10 years, she was fighting, you know, injustice. And in a crusade, a fantastic, from a moral point of view and from an intellectual point of view, it was a total political failure. But probably she was the first real feminist in Europe.

It sounds to me like the ideas gestate a long time. If this goes back to your school days, if Feast of the Goat goes back to 1975, you don't just suddenly invent an idea.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

I never write a novel with the first idea. No, no. This is something that should be making its way in a very, how can I say it, spontaneous way.

If this remains there and comes back and comes back with new images, and I discover that I had been more or less inventing something around these images, I start to take notes. And then I forget, and I do other things. But the idea is there, coming, taking shape little by little.

When I start writing a novel, actually, I have been working on the novel for many years.

How do you actually write? On a computer? Or..

I hand write first, and then I rewrite using the computer. But the first draft always by hand.

I started like this. This is the rhythm that I am accustomed to. And so first draft always hand write.

Mhm

At some point you said, in all great literary texts, often without their authors intending it, a seditious inclination is present.

Yes.

You said things like that quite a lot. But I was curious about the phrase, without intent, without the authors knowing--

Oh, because there are authors who are not in any way enthusiastic with the idea of changing the world? No. Balzac, for example, he was a real reactionary.

He wanted the world to remain as it was.

He didn't know what he was doing in effect?

Well, he didn't know that he was producing a very explosive image, which was tremendously critical of the real world. It was not his intention at all.

He was for the establishment. But I don't think there is a great fiction that is not an essential contradiction of the world as it is, you know?

I think if you produce a great, great novel, what you are producing is an alternative world, a kind of world that is not the real one because the real one is something that you are rejecting through this alternative world.

But I don't think this is an explicit mechanism which is pushing you, not at all.

And I think that is the richness of literature because these alternative worlds are this devastating criticism of the real world because they embrace all perspectives, all points of views, depending on the personality of authors, of the personal demons of authors, you know?

In some cases, yes. In some cases, you can say, yes, of course,

In some cases, you can say, yes, of course, there is an explicit critical attitude, or political or cultural. But I would say that in most cases, no. A writer is trying to materialize a vision or a dream without knowing that in this vision and in this dream, there is a very deep rejection of life as it is, of the world as it is, of humankind as it is.

For me, this is the great contribution of fiction, of the novel, to human progress.

And I think priests knew it before critical intellectuals. You know that the Inquisition forbade the novel for 300 years in Latin America.

I think they were very lucid. I think they understood very well this seditious consequence that fiction can have in the human spirit.

If you are too much contaminated with the idea of different worlds, perfect worlds, beautiful worlds, coherent worlds, and you are comparing this with the real world, the real world always loses the match, you know?

And this creates a kind of malaise? A kind of malaise in the mind that can be the point of departure of critical attitudes.

So that is the reason why an estate, an ideology, has the ambition of total control of society, of the mind, of behavior. Fiction becomes immediately under pressure, censored, controlled, forbidden. And in a way, they are right because fiction is a danger for total control. It's always escaping and demonstrating that the world is badly made, that the world could be different. Maybe not better, but different, you know?

And this is seditious. This is rebellious.

One of the curiosities of Trujillo in the book is the fact that he has such a dislike of the arts broadly, has no appreciation or understanding.

No, not only, only

Clothing, his dress.

The only time that he was interested in literature was when Balaguer was incorporated to the Academy and read this incredible discourse in which he compared Trujillo to God.

It was an ode to Trujillo.

Well, Trujillo was there. And Balaguer, in a very well-written piece, said, well, did the the Dominican Republic has survived? 400 years of catastrophes, of invasions, of civil wars, of hurricanes, earthquakes.

Because until 1930, God took care of our country. But in 1930, God said, well, it's enough. I'm going to give this responsibility to someone else. And so Trujillo took this responsibility. And Trujillo said many times that for the first time, he was really impressed with a literary text.

And I think he really believed that Balaguer was right when he said that he had taken this responsibility and he has replaced God with this responsibility to save the Dominican Republic of disintegration. [laughter]

But for the rest, he despised the literary fantasies of his wife. His wife published two books.

She didn't write them, though.

No, she didn't.

But she published a book of.