The Dissenting Voice : The New Essay of Spanish America, 1960-1985

## A Note on Translations Unless otherwise noted, all the translations into English are my own. Following my first citation of original Spanish titles I include, within parentheses, the English translation of the work. In the case of works which have been published in translation, the English version is in italics with conventional capitalization: otherwise, I simply indicate a rough translation, which appears in normal type. My bibliography makes no attempt to include all the available translations of Spanish American essays. I do, however, list those quoted in the text and a few others of particular interest. Frondizi, Belaúnde Terry, and others. While endemic social and economic problems persisted beneath the surface in many areas, the hemisphere's material progress, especially in the rapidly growing urban zones, was impressive. A country like Mexico-with its new skyscrapers and magnificent University City complex-is perhaps the clearest example of the growing emphasis upon "development" in all its physical and social connotations. Other cities such as Caracas or Lima were not far behind. The spirit of change and innovation suggested by democratization and development was underscored in the cultural sphere, especially among the writers. The late 1950s and especially the 1960s saw Spanish American literature emerge from its status as picturesque, peripheral, "Third World" writing-of considerable documentary value but only of minor aesthetic interest-to take its place at the very frontiers of international literary activity. Argentina's Jorge Luis Borges, a unique and solitary figure, appears to have been the first to achieve this level of recognition, but he was soon followed by a brilliant group of narrators: Carlos Fuentes, Mario Vargas Llosa, Gabriel García Márquez, Julio Cortázar, and a number of others. These men, several of whom produced important essayistic texts as well as novels and short stories, all tended toward the left and at least in the early 1960s were enthusiastic supporters of Castro and the new Cuba. Indeed Havana, with its active literary life, its highly publicized book prizes, and its government-supported publishing enterprises, briefly became the hemispheric interface between cultural innovation and political commitment. But the early and mid-1960s was an ambiguous period and one which still remains difficult to characterize, especially with regard to the younger generation. On the one hand, Spanish America's youth seems to have been deeply moved by the image of Cuba, the Latin David standing up to the Yankee Goliath; on the other, the insidious appeal of North American popular culture, especially in its rock and roll, blue jeans, and youth liberation manifestations, molded-some would say corrupted-the soul of Latin America's youth. There may have been some significance in the fact that during the 1960s almost every kiosk in the area seemed to be doing its best trade in two items: a biggerthan-life poster of the young Che Guevara and a similar one of the youthful John F. Kennedy. I stress this almost schizophrenic attitude toward the United States evident in the hemisphere's younger generation because the theme of the youth (or student) movement along with the question of North America as a model becomes central in the work of several essayists of the period. As the decade moved on, however, a good deal of the earlier years' optimism began to wane. For one thing, democratic regimes in several countries, Argentina and Peru, for example, were tottering: by the second half of the 1960s Revolution or Rebellion? TWO Octavio Paz (1914-), unquestionably one of contemporary Spanish America's most perceptive essayists, has frequently pointed out the important yet easily overlooked difference between the terms "revolution" and "rebellion." In such major collections as Corriente alterna {Alternating Current, 1967), Los hijos del limo {Children of the Mire, 1972), and Tiempo nublado (Cloudy times, 1983), he notes that a revolution seeks the replacement of one regime by another, whereas a rebellion aims at overthrowing existing authority but tends to be unclear or open-ended regarding what might replace the defeated system. Not surprisingly, he finds that recent years are characterized more by rebellion than revolution: "This indifference toward the shape the future should take distinguishes the new radicalism from the revolutionary movements of the nineteenth century and first half of the twentieth." The Mexican essayist then goes on to note that "confidence in the strength of spontaneity exists in inverse proportion to the disgust toward systematic constructs." 1 Others parallel the ideas to a considerable degree. Thus Argentine essayist and novelist Ernesto Sábato (1911-), speaking of writers, observes that "they are at heart antisocial, rebels, and therefore they frequently are sympathetic toward revolutionary movements. But when revolutions triumph, it is not unusual for them to become rebels again." 2 In other words, the rebellious spirit tends to be a constant force, often "indifferent" to the future or distrustful of the systems that revolutions strive to establish. Although Spanish America has had some very real revolutions and although the political climate of much of the area has often been considered revolutionary, the term "rebellion" appears to describe more accurately the literary situation of the region's writers and perhaps that 1 0 The Dissenting Voice Cortázar's phrase la Gran Costumbre), to liberate themselves from the taboos and restrictions of an overly mechanized, overly rational society. There is every indication, moreover, that Cortázar sympathizes wholeheartedly with these attitudes. Though Argentine by virtue of his parentage and early life, it is somewhat difficult to consider Cortázar (who spent most of his adult years in France) an ideal observer of his country. However, essayists closer to home have certainly reflected the same interest in the phenomenon of revolt, especially as it was manifest among Spanish America's restless and rapidly growing youth. Several fellow Argentines, such as Julio Mafud (1928-) and Juan José Sebreli (1930-), take passing note of these matters, though unlike Cortázar they are critical rather than sympathetic toward the new generation. These two essayists, writing in the late 1960s, find that on balance younger people are insincere, terribly spoiled by indulgent parents, and the willing victims of materialistic manipulation. 5 Their restiveness, what there is of it, seems to be perceived more as a whimper than as a cry of genuine rebellion. The fact that Argentine essayists do not appear to have become very deeply involved literarily or emotionally with the youth movement is of some significance: it suggests that in socially conservative Argentina the younger generation's protest was muted, that the rebelliousness typical of the mid-and late 1960s was minimal. 6 By comparison with other countries (Mexico, for example), the Argentine treatment of this theme-except for the work of the exile Cortázar-is not especially impressive. Perhaps the perspective gained by expatriates yields richer insights than those obtained by writers who remain at home. The career of Uruguay's Eduardo Galeano (1940-) may support this view. Like a number of other writers of the period under examination, Galeano has spent much of his life living and working as an exile from his homeland. In many respects his poeticat times erotic-prose, his strident denunciation of exploitation in Latin America, and his life as a wondering radical make him an archetypical representative of the rebels of the 1960s and 1970s. The very titles of his most celebrated collections underscore this role: Las venas abiertas de la América Latina (The Open Veins of Latin America, 1971) and Días y noches de amor y guerra (Days and nights of love and war, 1978). On a number of occasions he has touched upon the themes of youth and rebellion. A committed leftist, he typically points out how even the apparent dissent of the hemisphere's youth movement has been corrupted by the values of the highly developed capitalist world. A good example of these concerns is seen in his comments during a discussion with students in Quito, Ecuador: "The symbols and fetishes of the North American youth revolt of the sixties are now being mass produced in the developed world. Revolution or Rebellion? 1 3 whose sly comments in Viajes en la América ignota (Travels in unknown America, 1972) constitute delightful informal essays. The relationship of these writers to the essayists who preceded themespecially to the Paz of the 1940s and 1950s-is clarified to some degree by philosopher and scholar Luis Villoro, who wrote of the intellectuals emerging in the 1960's, "a characteristic symptom of the moment is the lack of interest, especially among the younger generation, in those themes that were of such great concern to my generation." 10 The themes referred to as not interesting to the new writers were those of "self-knowledge" and the "Philosophy of Mexicanness"-key issues in the writings of Paz and the Hiperión group of the preceding decade. What then were the specific preoccupations of these writers? Fuentes, in his comment of 1963, sheds some light on this question. The writers of the decade, he notes, may be characterized by "not delving into the abstract idea of 'Mexicanness' but rather into the concrete nature of Mexicans, socially or individually considered." 11 What Fuentes appears to be saying here is of considerable help in understanding the emerging essayists of the period. Unlike earlier generations who, at least in retrospect, seem to have been dominated by a controlling idea (as in the case of the turn-of-the-century positivists), these essayists were not ideologues. Rather, they responded to concrete situations and current trends in the world of accelerated change that characterizes the second half of this century. Thus, Juan García Ponce writing on the apparently unrelated subject of Mexican cinema notes that the interest in tracing national idiosyncrasies is no longer very fascinating, that "this serious task was the subject of earlier generations' concern, but now we must be up to date." 12 At times, the new essayists appear to be almost flippant in defining their generational outlook: thus Monsiváis, writing in 1967 on the new generation in Mexico, will enumerate their concerns as "fashions in clothes, songs, protest authors, neckties, dance styles." 13 Of course, the early and mid-sixties was a unique period in Mexico as elsewhere. The youth movement, from Berkeley to Paris to the Pedregal, was in its heyday, high fashion (the miniskirt, "swinging London," etc.) had become a worldwide cult. Pop culture-especially rock music-was making unprecedented inroads on the general society and, on a somewhat more serious level, the Spanish American "boom" in fiction was under way. Fuentes, like Monsiváis, is a good barometer of the times: in "Carlos Fuentes habla de su vida" (Carlos Fuentes speaks about his life), a profusely illustrated confessional essay of 1965, he paints a picture of highflying literary life. He notes that a single article sold to foreign (especially U.S.) publications produces more revenue than an entire novel published in Mexico; that he is a "chronic cinema-addict"; that he has many female admirers; that he enjoys his comfortable home in fashionable San Angel; and finally, that Jiménez, Annotation Political, social, and aesthetic change marked Latin American society in the years between 1960 and 1985. In this book, Martin Stabb explores how these changes made their way into the essayistic writings of twenty-six Spanish American intellectuals.Stabb posits that dissent--against ideology, against simplistic notions of technological progress, against urban values, and even against the direct linear expository style of the essay itself--characterizes the work of these contemporary essayists. He draws his examples from major canonical figures, including Paz, Vargas Llosa, Fuentes, and Cortázar, and from lesser-known writers who merit a wider readership, such as Monterroso, Zaid, Edwards, and Ibargüengoitia. This exploration overturns many conventional assumptions about Latin American intellectuals and also highlights some of the other achievements of authors famous primarily for novels or short stories Political, social, and aesthetic change marked Latin American society in the years between 1960 and 1985. In this book, Martin Stabb explores how these changes made their way into the essayistic writings of twenty-six Spanish American intellectuals. Stabb posits that dissent--against ideology, against simplistic notions of technological progress, against urban values, and even against the direct linear expository style of the essay itself--characterizes the work of these contemporary essayists. He draws his examples from major canonical figures, including Paz, Vargas Llosa, Fuentes, and Cortázar, and from lesser-known writers who merit a wider readership, such as Monterroso, Zaid, Edwards, and Ibargüengoitia. This exploration overturns many conventional assumptions about Latin American intellectuals and also highlights some of the other achievements of authors famous primarily for novels or short stories "Covers period dominated by the boom in the novel, in which all other genres and authors were eclipsed by a handful of novels. Restores many important texts and key aspects of Latin American culture to their rightful place. One of the singularities of this book is that it includes publications that would not be classified in a traditional canon of essay. Enriches the corpus of an already heterogeneous literature. Some authors studied are Paz, Vargas Llosa, Fuentes, Cortazar, and García Márquez. Work is well written and clearly conceptualized. Required consultation for the period and the essay"--Handbook of Latin American Studies, v. 58.