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Jorge Luis Borges, The Art of Fiction No. 39

Interviewed by Ronald Christ

This interview was conducted in July 1966, in conversations I held with Borges at his

office in the Biblioteca Nacional, of which he is the director. The room, recalling an older

Buenos ires, is not really an office at all but a large, ornate, high!ceilinged chamber in

the newly renovated library. "n the walls#but far too high to be easily read, as if hungwith diffidence#are various academic certificates and literary citations. There are also

several $iranesi etchings, bringing to mind the nightmarish $iranesi ruin in Borges%s

story, &The Immortal.' "ver the fire(lace is a large (ortrait) when I as*ed Borges%ssecretary, +iss usana -uinteros, about the (ortrait, she res(onded in a fitting, if

unintentional echo of a basic Borgesean theme &No im(orta. It%s a re(roduction of

another (ainting.'

t diagonally o((osite corners of the room are two large, revolving boo*cases thatcontain, +iss -uinteros e/(lained, boo*s Borges fre0uently consults, all arranged in a

certain order and never varied so that Borges, who is nearly blind, can find them by

(osition and sie. The dictionaries, for instance, are set together, among them an old,sturdily rebac*ed, well!worn co(y of Webster's Encyclopedic Dictionary of the English

Languageand an e0ually well!worn nglo!a/on dictionary. mong the other volumes,

ranging from boo*s in 2erman and 3nglish on theology and (hiloso(hy to literature andhistory, are the com(letePelican Guide to English Literature, the +odern 4ibrary5s

Selected Writings of rancis Bacon,7ollander%s The Poetic Edda, The Poems of Catullus,

orsyth%s Geometry of our Dimensions,several volumes of 7arra(%s3nglish 8lassics,$ar*man%s The Conspiracy of Pontiac,and the8hambers edition of!eo"ulf. ecently,+iss -uinteros said, Borges had been reading The #merican $eritagePicture $istory of

the Ci%il War,and :ust the night before he had ta*en to his home, where his mother, who

is in her nineties, reads aloud to him, ;ashington Irving%s The Life of &ahomet

3ach day, late in the afternoon, Borges arrives at the library where it is now his customto dictate letters and (oems, which +iss -uinteros ty(es and reads bac* to him.

ollowing his revisions, she ma*es two or three, sometimes four co(ies of each (oem

before Borges is satisfied. ome afternoons she reads to him, and he carefully correctsher 3nglish (ronunciation. "ccasionally, when he wants to thin*, Borges leaves his office

and slowly circles the library%s rotunda, high above the readers at the tables below. But heis not always serious, +iss -uinteros stressed, confirming what one might e/(ect fromhis writing &lways there are :o*es, little (ractical :o*es.'

;hen Borges enters the library, wearing a beret and a dar* gray flannel suit hanging

loosely from his shoulders and sagging over his shoes, everyone sto(s tal*ing for a

moment, (ausing (erha(s out of res(ect, (erha(s out of em(athetic hesitation for a manwho is not entirely blind. 7is wal* is tentative, and he carries a cane, which he uses li*e a

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divining rod. 7e is short, with hair that loo*s slightly unreal in the way it rises from his

head. 7is features are vague, softened by age, (artially erased by the (aleness of his s*in.

7is voice, too, is unem(hatic, almost a drone, seeming, (ossibly because of theunfocused e/(ression of his eyes, to come from another (erson behind the face) his

gestures and e/(ressions are lethargic#characteristic is the involuntary droo( of one

eyelid. But when he laughs#and he laughs often#his features wrin*le into what actuallyresembles a wry 0uestion mar*) and he is a(t to ma*e a swee(ing or clearing gesture with

his arm and to bring his hand down on the table. +ost of his statements ta*e the form of

rhetorical 0uestions, but in as*ing a genuine 0uestion, Borges dis(lays now a loomingcuriosity, now a shy, almost (athetic incredulity. ;hen he chooses, as in telling a :o*e, he

ado(ts a cris(, dramatic tone) his 0uotation of a line from "scar ;ilde would do :ustice

to an 3dwardian actor. 7is accent defies easy classification a cosmo(olitan diction

emerging from a (anish bac*ground, educated by correct 3nglish s(eech and influencedby merican movies. I3;3

?ou don%t ob:ect to my recording our conversations@

J"23 4AI B"23

No, no. ?ou fi/ the gadgets. They are a hindrance, but I will try to tal* as if they%re not

there. Now where are you from@

INT3>I3;3

rom New ?or*.

B"23


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h, New ?or*. I was there, and I li*ed it very much#I said to myself &;ell, I have

made this) this is my wor*.'

INT3>I3;3

?ou mean the walls of the high buildings, the mae of streets@

B"23

?es. I rambled about the streets#ifth venue#and got lost, but the (eo(le were always

*ind. I remember answering many 0uestions about my wor* from tall, shy young men. In

Te/as they had told me to be afraid of New ?or*, but I li*ed it. ;ell, are you ready@

INT3>I3;3

?es, the machine is already wor*ing.

B"23

Now, before we start, what *ind of 0uestions are they@

INT3>I3;3

+ostly about your own wor* and about 3nglish writers you have e/(ressed an interest in.

B"23

h, that%s right. Because if you as* me 0uestions about the younger contem(orarywriters, I%m afraid I *now very little about them. or about the last seven years I%ve been

doing my best to *now something of "ld 3nglish and "ld Norse. 8onse0uently, that%s a

long way off in time and s(ace from the rgentine, from rgentine writers, no@ But if Ihave to s(ea* to you about theinnsburg ragment or the elegies or the!attle of

!runanburg. . .

INT3>I3;3

;ould you li*e to tal* about those@

B"23

No, not es(ecially.

INT3>I3;3

;hat made you decide to study nglo!a/on and "ld Norse@

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B"23

I began by being very interested in meta(hor. nd then in some boo* or other#I thin* in

ndrew 4ang%s$istory of English Literature#I read about the *ennings, meta(hors of"ld 3nglish, and in a far more com(le/ fashion of "ld Norse (oetry. Then I went in for

the study of "ld 3nglish. Nowadays, or rather today, after several years of study, I%m nolonger interested in the meta(hors because I thin* that they were rather a weariness of the

flesh to the (oets themselves#at least to the "ld 3nglish (oets.

INT3>I3;3

To re(eat them, you mean@

B"23

To re(eat them, to use them over and over again and to *ee( on s(ea*ing of the

hranrad(L#T T$)*G)E +E- .*D

#/, "aelrad(L#T T$)*G)E +E- .*D

#/, or &roadof the whale' instead of &the sea'#that *ind of thing#and &the seawood,' &the stallion

of the sea' instead of &the shi(.' o I decided finally to sto( using them, the meta(hors,

that is) but in the meanwhile I had begun studying the language, and I fell in love with it.Now I have formed a grou(#we%re about si/ or seven students#and we study almost

every day. ;e%ve been going through the highlights in!eo"ulf, theinnsburg ragment,

and The Dream of the -ood. lso, we%ve gotten into Ding lfred%s (rose. Now we%ve

begun learning "ld Norse, which is rather a*in to "ld 3nglish. I mean the vocabulariesare not really very different "ld 3nglish is a *ind of halfway house between the 4ow

2erman and the candinavian.

INT3>I3;3

3(ic literature has always interested you very much, hasn%t it@

B"23

lways, yes. or e/am(le, there are many (eo(le who go to the cinema and cry. That has

always ha((ened It has ha((ened to me also. But I have never cried over sob stuff, or the

(athetic e(isodes. But, for e/am(le, when I saw the first gangster films of Jose(h von

ternberg, I remember that when there was anything e(ic about them#I mean 8hicagogangsters dying bravely#well, I felt that my eyes were full of tears. I have felt e(ic

(oetry far more than lyric or elegy. I always felt that. Now that may be, (erha(s, becauseI come from military stoc*. +y grandfather, 8olonel rancisco Borges 4afinur, fought inthe border warfare with the Indians, and he died in a revolution) my great!grandfather,

8olonel uEre, led a $eruvian cavalry charge in one of the last great battles against the

(aniards) another great!great!uncle of mine led the vanguard of an +artin%s army#that*ind of thing. nd I had, well, one of my great!great!grandmothers was a sister of osasF

#I%m not es(ecially (roud of that relationshi( because I thin* of osas as being a *ind of

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$erHn in his day) but still all those things lin* me with rgentine history and also with the

idea of a man%s having to be brave, no@

INT3>I3;3

But the characters you (ic* as your e(ic heroes#the gangster, for e/am(le#are notusually thought of as e(ic, are they@ ?et you seem to find the e(ic there@

B"23

I thin* there is a *ind of, (erha(s, of low e(ic in him#no@

INT3>I3;3

o you mean that since the old *ind of e(ic is a((arently no longer (ossible for us, wemust loo* to this *ind of character for our heroes@

B"23

I thin* that as to e(ic (oetry or as to e(ic literature, rather#if we e/ce(t such writers as

T. 3. 4awrence in his Se%en Pillars of Wisdomor some (oets li*e Di(ling, for e/am(le, in

&7ar( ong of the ane ;omen' or even in the stories#I thin* nowadays, while literarymen seem to have neglected their e(ic duties, the e(ic has been saved for us, strangely

enough, by the ;esterns.

INT3>I3;3

I have heard that you have seen the film West Side Storymany times.

B"23

+any times, yes. "f course, West Side Storyis not a ;estern.

INT3>I3;3

No, but for you it has the same e(ic 0ualities@

B"23

I thin* it has, yes. uring this century, as I say, the e(ic tradition has been saved for the

world by, of all (laces, 7ollywood. ;hen I went to $aris, I felt I wanted to shoc* (eo(le,and when they as*ed me#they *new that I was interested in the films, or that I had been,

because my eyesight is very dim now#and they as*ed me, &;hat *ind of film do you

li*e@' nd I said, &8andidly, what I most en:oy are the ;esterns.' They were allrenchmen) they fully agreed with me. They said, &"f course we see such films as

$iroshima mon amourorL'#nn0e derni1re 2 &arienbadout of a sense of duty, but when


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we want to amuse ourselves, when we want to en:oy ourselves, when we want, well, to

get a real *ic*, then we see merican films.'

INT3>I3;3

Then it is the content, the &literary' content of the film, rather than any of the technicalas(ects, that interests you@

B"23

I *now very little about the technical (art of movies.

INT3>I3;3

If I may change the sub:ect to your own fiction, I would li*e to as* about your havingsaid that you were very timid about beginning to write stories.

B"23

?es, I was very timid because when I was young I thought of myself as a (oet. o I

thought, &If I write a story, everybody will *now I%m an outsider, that I am intruding in

forbidden ground.' Then I had an accident. ?ou can feel the scar. If you touch my headhere, you will see. eel all those mountains, bum(s@ Then I s(ent a fortnight in a hos(ital.

I had nightmares and slee(lessness#insomnia. fter that they told me that I had been in

danger, well, of dying, that it was really a wonderful thing that the o(eration had beensuccessful. I began to fear for my mental integrity#I said, &+aybe I can%t write

anymore.' Then my life would have been (ractically over because literature is very

im(ortant to me. Not because I thin* my own stuff (articularly good, but because I *nowthat I can%t get along without writing. If I don%t write, I feel, well, a *ind of remorse, no@

Then I thought I would try my hand at writing an article or a (oem. But I thought, &I have

written hundreds of articles and (oems. If I can%t do it, then I%ll *now at once that I am

done for, that everything is over with me.' o I thought I%d try my hand at something Ihadn%t done If I couldn%t do it, there would be nothing strange about it because why

should I write short stories@ It would (re(are me for the final overwhelming blow

*nowing that I was at the end of my tether. I wrote a story called, let me see, I thin*,&7ombre de la es0uina rosada,'F and everyone en:oyed it very much. It was a great relief

to me. If it hadn%t been for that (articular *noc* on the head I got, (erha(s I would never

have written short stories.

INT3>I3;3

nd (erha(s you would never have been translated@

B"23

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nd no one would have thought of translating me. o it was a blessing in disguise. Those

stories, somehow or other, made their way They got translated into rench, I won the

$ri/ ormentor, and then I seemed to be translated into many tongues. The first translatorwas Ibarra. 7e was a close friend of mine, and he translated the stories into rench. I

thin* he greatly im(roved u(on them, no@

INT3>I3;3

Ibarra, not 8aillois, was the first translator@

B"23

7e and oger 8ailloisF. t a ri(e old age, I began to find that many (eo(le were

interested in my wor* all over the world. It seems strange +any of my writings have

been done into 3nglish, into wedish, into rench, into Italian, into 2erman, into

$ortuguese, into some of the lav languages, into anish. nd always this comes as a

great sur(rise to me because I remember I (ublished a boo*#that must have been waybac* in 19C, I thin*F#and at the end of the year I found out that no less than thirty!

seven co(ies had been soldK

INT3>I3;3

;as that the 3ni%ersal $istory of )nfamy4

B"23

No, no.$istory of Eternity. t first I wanted to find every single one of the buyers to

a(ologie because of the boo* and also to than* them for what they had done. There is ane/(lanation for that. If you thin* of thirty!seven (eo(le#those (eo(le are real, I mean

every one of them has a face of his own, a family, he lives on his own (articular street.

;hy, if you sell, say two thousand co(ies, it is the same thing as if you had sold nothing

at all because two thousand is too vast#I mean, for the imagination to gras(. ;hilethirty!seven (eo(le#(erha(s thirty!seven are too many, (erha(s seventeen would have

been better or even seven#but still thirty!seven are still within the sco(e of one%s

imagination.

INT3>I3;3

(ea*ing of numbers, I notice in your stories that certain numbers occur re(eatedly.

B"23

"h, yes. I%m awfully su(erstitious. I%m ashamed about it. I tell myself that after all,

su(erstition is, I su((ose, a slight form of madness, no@

INT3>I3;3

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"r of religion@

B"23

;ell, religion, but . . . I su((ose that if one attained one hundred and fifty years of age,

one would be 0uite mad, no@ Because all those small sym(toms would have beengrowing. till, I see my mother, who is ninety, and she has far fewer su(erstitions than I

have. Now, when I was reading, for the tenth time, I su((ose, Boswell%s5ohnson, I found

that he was full of su(erstition, and at the same time, that he had a great fear of madness.In the (rayers he com(osed, one of the things he as*ed 2od was that he should not be a

madman, so he must have been worried about it.

INT3>I3;3

;ould you say that it is the same reason#su(erstition#that causes you to use the same

colors#red, yellow, green#again and again@

B"23

But do I use green@

INT3>I3;3

Not as often as the others. But you see I did a rather trivial thing, I counted the colors

in . . .

B"23

No, no. That is called estil6stica) here it is studied. No, I thin* you%ll find yellow.

INT3>I3;3

But red, too, often moving, fading into rose.

B"23

eally@ ;ell, I never *new that.

INT3>I3;3

It%s as if the world today were a cinder of yesterday%s fire#that%s a meta(hor you use. ?ou

s(ea* of &ed dam,' for e/am(le.

B"23

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;ell, the word#dam, I thin*, in the 7ebrew means &red earth.' Besides it sounds well,

no@ &o:o dEn.'

INT3>I3;3

?es it does. But that%s not something you intend to show the degeneration of the world bythe meta(horical use of color@

B"23

I don%t intend to show anything. LaughterO I have no intentions.

INT3>I3;3

Just to describe@

B"23

I describe. I write. Now as for the color yellow, there is a (hysical e/(lanation of that.;hen I began to lose my sight, the last color I saw, or the last color, rather, that stood out,

because of course now I *now that your coat is not the same color as this table or of the

woodwor* behind you#the last color to stand out was yellow because it is the most vividof colors. That%s why you have the ?ellow 8ab 8om(any in the Anited tates. t first

they thought of ma*ing the cars scarlet. Then somebody found out that at night or when

there was a fog that yellow stood out in a more vivid way than scarlet. o you haveyellow cabs because anybody can (ic* them out. Now when I began to lose my eyesight,

when the world began to fade away from me, there was a time among my friends . . . well

they made, they (o*ed fun at me because I was always wearing yellow nec*ties. Thenthey thought I really li*ed yellow, although it really was too glaring. I said, &?es, to you,

but not to me, because it is the only color I can see, (racticallyK' I live in a gray world,

rather li*e the silver!screen world. But yellow stands out. That might account for it. I

remember a :o*e of "scar ;ilde%s a friend of his had a tie with yellow, red, and so on init, and ;ilde said, "h, my dear fellow, only a deaf man could wear a tie li*e thatK

INT3>I3;3

7e might have been tal*ing about the yellow nec*tie I have on now.

B"23

h, well. I remember telling that story to a lady who missed the whole (oint. he said,&"f course, it must be because being deaf he couldn%t hear what (eo(le were saying about

his nec*tie.' That might have amused "scar ;ilde, no@

INT3>I3;3

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I%d li*e to have heard his re(ly to that.

B"23

?es, of course. I never heard of such a case of something being so (erfectly

misunderstood. The (erfection of stu(idity. "f course, ;ilde%s remar* is a wittytranslation of an idea) in (anish as well as 3nglish you s(ea* of a &loud color.' &loud

color' is a common (hrase, but then the things that are said in literature are always the

same. ;hat is im(ortant is the way they are said. 4oo*ing for meta(hors, for e/am(le;hen I was a young man I was always hunting for new meta(hors. Then I found out that

really good meta(hors are always the same. I mean you com(are time to a road, death to

slee(ing, life to dreaming, and those are the great meta(hors in literature because theycorres(ond to something essential. If you invent meta(hors, they are a(t to be sur(rising

during the fraction of a second, but they stri*e no dee( emotion whatever. If you thin* of

life as a dream, that is a thought, a thought that is real, or at least that most men are bound

to have, no@ &;hat oft was thought, but ne%er so well e/(ressed.' I thin* that%s better than

the idea of shoc*ing (eo(le, than finding connections between things that have neverbeen connected before, because there is no real connection, so the whole thing is a *ind

of :uggling.

INT3>I3;3

Juggling :ust words@

B"23

Just words. I wouldn%t even call them real meta(hors because in a real meta(hor both

terms are really lin*ed together. I have found one e/ce(tion#a strange, new, andbeautiful meta(hor from "ld Norse (oetry. In "ld 3nglish (oetry a battle is s(o*en of asthe &(lay of swords' or the &encounter of s(ears.' But in "ld Norse, and I thin*, also, in

8eltic (oetry, a battle is called a &web of men.' That is strange, no@ Because in a web you

have a (attern, a weaving of men, un te7ido. I su((ose in medieval battle you got a *indof web because of having the swords and s(ears on o((osite sides and so on. o there you

have, I thin*, a new meta(hor) and, of course, with a nightmare touch about it, no@ The

idea of a web made of living men, of living things, and still being a web, still being a(attern. It is a strange idea, no@

INT3>I3;3

It corres(onds, in a general way, to the meta(hor 2eorge 3liot uses in&iddlemarch, that

society is a web and one cannot disentangle a strand without touching all the others.

B"23

With great interestO ;ho said that@

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INT3>I3;3

2eorge 3liot, in&iddlemarch

B"23

h,&iddlemarchK ?es, of courseK ?ou mean the whole universe is lin*ed together)everything lin*ed. ;ell that%s one of the reasons the toic (hiloso(hers had for believing

in omens. There%s a (a(er, a very interesting (a(er, as all of his are, by e -uincey on

modern su(erstition, and there he gives the toic theory. The idea is that since the whole

universe is one living thing, then there is a *inshi( between things that seem far off. ore/am(le, if thirteen (eo(le dine together, one of them is bound to die within the year. Not

merely because of Jesus 8hrist and the 4ast u((er, but also because allthings are bound

together. 7e said#I wonder how that sentence runs#that everything in the world is asecret glass or secret mirror of the universe.

INT3>I3;3

?ou have often s(o*en of the (eo(le who have influenced you, li*e e -uincey . . .

B"23

e -uincey greatly, yes, and cho(enhauer in 2erman. ?es, in fact, during the irst

;orld ;ar, I was led by 8arlyle#8arlyle I rather disli*e him I thin* he inventedNaism and so on, one of the fathers or forefathers of such things#well, I was led by

8arlyle to a study of 2erman, and I tried my hand at Dant%s Criti8ue of Pure -eason. "f

course, I got bogged down as most (eo(le do#as most 2ermans do. Then I said, &;ell,

I%ll try their (oetry, because (oetry has to be shorter because of the verse.' I got hold of aco(y of 7eine%sLyrisches )nterme99oand an 3nglish!2erman dictionary, and at the end

of two or three months I found I could get on fairly well without the aid of a dictionary.

I remember the first novel in 3nglish I read through was a cottish novel called The$ouse "ith the Green Shutters.

INT3>I3;3

;ho wrote that@

B"23

man called ouglas. Then that was (lagiaried by the man who wrote$atters Castle#8ronin#there was the same (lot, (ractically. The boo* was written in the cots dialect#

I mean, (eo(le instead of saying moneys(ea* of ba"beesor instead of children, bairns#

that%s an "ld 3nglish and Norse word also#and they say nichtfor night that%s "ld3nglish.

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INT3>I3;3

nd how old were you when you read that@

B"23

I must have been about#there were many things I didn%t understand#I must have beenabout ten or eleven. Before that, of course, I had read The 5ungle !oo:, and I had read

tevenson%s Treasure )sland, a very fine boo*. But the first real novel was that novel.

;hen I read that, I wanted to be cotch, and then I as*ed my grandmother, and she was

very indignant about it. he said, &Than* goodness that you%re notK' "f course, maybeshe was wrong. he came from Northumberland) they must have had some cottish blood

in them. $erha(s even anish blood way bac*.

INT3>I3;3

;ith this long interest in 3nglish and your great love of it . . .

B"23

4oo* here, I%m tal*ing to an merican There%s a boo* I musts(ea* about#nothing

une/(ected about it#that boo* is$uc:leberry inn. I thoroughly disli*e Tom awyer. I

thin* that Tom awyer s(oils the last cha(ters of$uc:leberry inn. ll those silly :o*es.

They are all (ointless :o*es) but I su((ose +ar* Twain thought it was his duty to befunny even when he wasn%t in the mood. The :o*es had to be wor*ed in somehow.

ccording to what 2eorge +oore said, the 3nglish always thought &Better a bad :o*e

than no :o*e.'

I thin* that +ar* Twain was one of the really great writers, but I thin* he was rather

unaware of the fact. But (erha(s in order to write a really great boo*, you mustbe rather

unaware of the fact. ?ou can slave away at it and change every ad:ective to some other

ad:ective, but (erha(s you can write better if you leave the mista*es. I remember whatBernard haw said, that as to style, a writer has as much style as his conviction will give

him and not more. haw thought that the idea of a game of style was 0uite nonsensical,

0uite meaningless. 7e thought of Bunyan, for e/am(le, as a great writer because he wasconvinced of what he was saying. If a writer disbelieves what he is writing, then he can

hardly e/(ect his readers to believe it. In this country, though, there is a tendency to

regard any *ind of writing#es(ecially the writing of (oetry#as a game of style. I have

*nown many (oets here who have written well#very fine stuff#with delicate moodsand so on#but if you tal* with them, the only thing they tell you is smutty stories or they

s(ea* of (olitics in the way that everybody does, so that really their writing turns out to

be *ind of sideshow. They had learned writing in the way that a man might learn to (laychess or to (lay bridge. They were not really (oets or writers at all. It was a tric* they had

learned, and they had learned it thoroughly. They had the whole thing at their finger ends.

But most of them#e/ce(t four or five, I should say#seemed to thin* of life as having

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nothing (oetic or mysterious about it. They ta*e things for granted. They *now that when

they have to write, then, well, they have to suddenly become rather sad or ironic.

INT3>I3;3

To (ut on their writer%s hat@

B"23

?es, (ut on the writer%s hat and get into a right mood, and then write. fterward, they fall

bac* on current (olitics.

AN -AINT3" enteringO

3/cuse me. eQor 8am(bell is waiting.

B"23

h, (lease as* him to wait a moment. ;ell, there%s a +r. 8am(bell waiting) the8am(bells are coming.

INT3>I3;3

;hen you wrote your stories, did you revise a great deal@

B"23

t first I did. Then I found out that when a man reaches a certain age, he has found hisreal tone. Nowadays, I try to go over what I%ve written after a fortnight or so, and of

course there are many sli(s and re(etitions to be avoided, certain favorite tric*s that

should not be overwor*ed. But I thin* that what I write nowadays is always on a certainlevel and that I can%t better it very much, nor can I s(oil it very much, either.

8onse0uently I let it go, forget all about it, and thin* about what I%m doing at the time.

The last things I have been writing are milongas, (o(ular songs.

INT3>I3;3

?es, I saw a volume of them, a beautiful boo*.

B"23

?es,Para las seis cuerdas, meaning, of course, the guitar. The guitar was a (o(ular

instrument when I was a boy. Then you would find (eo(le strumming the guitar, not too

s*illfully, at nearly every street corner of every town. ome of the best tangos werecom(osed by (eo(le who couldn%t write them nor read them. But of course they had

music in their souls, as ha*es(eare might have said. o they dictated them to somebody

1C


14/37

They were (layed on the (iano, and they got written down, and they were (ublished for

the literate (eo(le. I remember I met one of them#3rnesto $oncio. 7e wrote &on

Juan,' one of the best tangos before the tangos were s(oiled by the Italians in 4a Bocaand so on I mean, when the tangos came from the criolla. 7e once said to me, &I have

been in :ail many times, eQor Borges, but always for manslaughterK' ;hat he meant to

say was that he wasn%t a thief or a (im(.

INT3>I3;3

In your#ntolog6a Personal. . .

B"23

4oo* here, I want to say that that boo* is full of mis(rints. +y eyesight is very dim, and

the (roofreading had to be done by somebody else.

INT3>I3;3

I see, but those are only minor errors, aren%t they@

B"23

?es, I *now, but they cree( in, and they worry the writer, not the reader. The reader

acce(ts anything, no@ 3ven the star*est nonsense.

INT3>I3;3

;hat was your (rinci(le of selection in that boo*@

B"23

+y (rinci(le of selection was sim(ly that I felt the stuff was better than what I had left

out. "f course, if I had been cleverer, I would have insisted on leaving out those stories,

and then after my death someone would have found out that what had been left out was

really good. That would have been a cleverer thing to do, no@ I mean, to (ublish all thewea* stuff, then to let somebody find out that I had left out the real things.

INT3>I3;3

?ou li*e :o*es very much, don%t you@

B"23

?es, I do, yes.

INT3>I3;3

1G


15/37

But the (eo(le who write about your boo*s, your fiction in (articular . . .

B"23

No, no#they write far too seriously.

INT3>I3;3

They seldom seem to recognie that some of them are very funny.

B"23

They are meant to be funny. Now a boo* will come out called Cron6cas de !ustos

Domec8, written with dolfo Bioy 8asares. That boo* will be about architects, (oets,

novelists, scul(tors, and so on. ll the characters are imaginary, and they are all very u(!to!date, very modern) they ta*e themselves very seriously) so does the writer, but they are

not actually (arodies of anybody. ;e are sim(ly going as far as a certain thing can bedone. or e/am(le, many writers from here tell me, &;e would li*e to have your

message.' ?ou see, we have no message at all. ;hen I write, I write because a thing hasto be done. I don%t thin* a writer should meddle too much with his own wor*. 7e should

let the wor* write itself, no@

INT3>I3;3

?ou have said that a writer should never be :udged by his ideas.

B"23

No, I don%t thin* ideas are im(ortant.

INT3>I3;3

;ell, then, what should he be :udged by@

B"23

7e should be :udged by the en:oyment he gives and by the emotions one gets. s to

ideas, after all it is not very im(ortant whether a writer has some (olitical o(inion or

other because a wor* will come through des(ite them, as in the case of Di(ling%s;im.u((ose you consider the idea of the em(ire of the 3nglish#well, in;imI thin* the

characters one really is fond of are not the 3nglish, but many of the Indians, the+ussulmans. I thin* they%re nicer (eo(le. nd that%s because he thought them#NoK NoK

Not because he thought them nicer#because hefeltthem nicer.

INT3>I3;3

1


16/37

;hat about meta(hysical ideas, then@

B"23

h, well, meta(hysical ideas, yes. They can be wor*ed into (arables and so on.

INT3>I3;3

eaders very often call your stories (arables. o you li*e that descri(tion@

B"23

No, no. They%re not meant to be (arables. I mean if they are (arables . . . long pauseO . . .

that is, if they are (arables, they have happenedto be (arables, but my intention has

never been to write (arables.

INT3>I3;3

Not li*e Daf*a%s (arables, then@

B"23

In the case of Daf*a, we *now very little. ;e only *now that he was very dissatisfied

with his own wor*. "f course, when he told his friend +a/ Brod that he wanted his

manuscri(ts to be burned, as >irgil did, I su((ose he *new that his friend wouldn%t dothat. If a man wants to destroy his own wor*, he throws it into a fire, and there it goes.

;hen he tells a close friend of his, &I want all the manuscri(ts to be destroyed,' he

*nows that the friend will never do that, and the friend *nows that he *nows and that he*nows that the other *nows that he *nows and so on and so forth.

INT3>I3;3

It%s all very Jamesian.

B"23

?es, of course. I thin* that the whole world of Daf*a is to be found in a far more com(le/

way in the stories of 7enry James. I thin* that they both thought of the world as being at

the same time com(le/ and meaningless.

INT3>I3;3

+eaningless@

B"23

16


17/37

on%t you thin* so@

INT3>I3;3

No, I don%t really thin* so. In the case of James . . .

B"23

But in the case of James, yes. In the case of James, yes. I don%t thin* he thought the worldhad any moral (ur(ose. I thin* he disbelieved in 2od. In fact, I thin* there%s a letter

written to his brother, the (sychologist ;illiam James, wherein he says that the world is a

diamond museum, let%s say a collection of oddities, no@ I su((ose he meant that. Now inthe case of Daf*a, I thin* Daf*a was loo*ing for something.

INT3>I3;3

or some meaning@

B"23

or some meaning, yes) and not finding it, (erha(s. But I thin* that they both lived in a

*ind of mae, no@

INT3>I3;3

I would agree to that. boo* li*e The Sacred ount, for e/am(le.

B"23

?es, The Sacred ountand many short stories. or e/am(le, &The basement of the

Northmores,' where the whole story is a beautiful revenge, but a revenge that the readernever *nows will ha((en or not. The woman is very sure that her husband%s wor*, which

nobody seems to have read or cares about, is far better than the wor* of his famous

friend. But maybe the whole thing is untrue. +aybe she was :ust led by her love for him.

"ne doesn%t *now whether those letters, when they are (ublished, will really come toanything. "f course James was trying to write two or three stories at one time. That%s the

reason why he never gave any e/(lanation. The e/(lanation would have made the story

(oorer. 7e said The Turn of the Scre"was :ust a (ot!boiler, don%t worry about it. But I

don%t thin* that was the truth. or instance, he said, ;ell, if I give e/(lanations, then thestory will be (oorer because the alternative e/(lanations will be left out. I thin* he did

that on (ur(ose.

INT3>I3;3

I agree) (eo(le shouldn%t *now.

1L


18/37

B"23

$eo(le shouldn%t *now, and (erha(s he didn%t *now himselfK

INT3>I3;3

o you li*e to have the same effect on your readers@

B"23

"h, yes. "f course I do. But I thin* the stories of 7enry James are far above his novels.;hat%s im(ortant in the stories of 7enry James are the situations created, not the

characters. The Sacred ountwould be far better if you could tell one character from the

other. But you have to wade through some three hundred (ages in order to find out who4ady o!and!so%s lover was, and then at the end you may guess that it was o!and!so and

not ;hat%s!his!name. ?ou can%t tell them a(art) they all s(ea* in the same way) there are

no real characters. "nly the merican seems to stand out. If you thin* of ic*ens, well,while the characters don%t seem to stand out, they are far more im(ortant than the (lot.

INT3>I3;3

;ould you say that your own stories have their (oint of origin in a situation, not in a

character@

B"23

In a situation, right. 3/ce(t for the idea of bravery, of which I%m very fond. Bravery,

(erha(s, because I%m not very brave myself.

INT3>I3;3

Is that why there are so many *nives and swords and guns in your stories@

B"23

?es, that may be. "h, but there are two causes there first, seeing the swords at homebecause of my grandfather and my great!grandfather and so on. eeing all those swords.

Then I was bred in $alermo) it all was a slum then, and (eo(le always thought of

themselves#I don%t say that it was true but that they always thought of themselves#asbeing better than the (eo(le who lived on a different side of the town, as being better

fighters and that *ind of thing. "f course, that may have been rubbish. I don%t thin* they

were es(ecially brave. To call a man, or to thin* of him, as a coward#that was the last

thing) that%s the *ind of thing he couldn%t stand. I have even *nown of a case of a mancoming from the southern side of the town in order to (ic* a 0uarrel with somebody who

was famous as a *nifer on the north side and getting *illed for his (ains. They had no real

reason to 0uarrel They had never seen each other before) there was no 0uestion of money

1M


19/37

or women or anything of the *ind. I su((ose it was the same thing in the ;est in the

tates. 7ere the thing wasn%t done with guns, but with *nives.

INT3>I3;3

Asing the *nife ta*es the deed bac* to an older form of behavior@

B"23

n older form, yes. lso, it is a more (ersonal idea of courage. Because you can be a

good mar*sman and not es(ecially brave. But if you%re going to fight your man at close

0uarters, and you have *nives . . . I remember I once saw a man challenging another tofight, and the other caved in. But he caved in, I thin*, because of a tric*. "ne was an old

hand, he was seventy, and the other was a young and vigorous man, he must have been

between twenty!five and thirty. Then the old man, he begged your (ardon, he came bac*

with two daggers, and one was a s(an longer than the other. 7e said, &7ere, choose your

wea(on.' o he gave the other the chance of choosing the longer wea(on, and having anadvantage over him) but that also meant that he felt so sure of himself that he could afford

that handica(. The other a(ologied and caved in, of course. I remember that a braveman, when I was a young man in the slums, he was always su((osed to carry ashort

dagger, and it was worn here. 4i*e this


20/37

Two writers I wanted to as* you about are Joyce and 3liot. ?ou were one of the first

readers of Joyce, and you even translated (art of 3lyssesinto (anish, didn%t you@

B"23

?es, I%m afraid I undertoo* a very faulty translation of the last (age of 3lysses. Now as to3liot, at first I thought of him as being a finer critic than a (oet) now I thin* that

sometimes he is a very fine (oet, but as a critic I find that he%s too a(t to be always

drawing fine distinctions. If you ta*e a great critic, let%s say, 3merson or 8oleridge, youfeel that he has read a writer, and that his criticism comes from his (ersonal e/(erience of

him, while in the case of 3liot you always thin*#at least I always feel#that he%s

agreeing with some (rofessor or slightly disagreeing with another. 8onse0uently, he%s notcreative. 7e%s an intelligent man who%s drawing fine distinctions, and I su((ose he%s right)

but at the same time after reading, to ta*e a stoc* e/am(le, 8oleridge on ha*es(eare,

es(ecially on the character of 7amlet, a new 7amlet had been created for you, or after

reading 3merson on +ontaigne or whoever it may be. In 3liot there are no such acts of

creation. ?ou feel that he has read many boo*s on the sub:ect#he%s agreeing ordisagreeing#sometimes ma*ing slightly nasty remar*s, no@

INT3>I3;3

?es, that he ta*es bac* later.

B"23

?es, yes, that he ta*es bac* later. "f course, he too* those remar*s bac* later because at

first he was what might be called nowadays &an angry young man.' In the end, I su((ose

he thought of himself as being an 3nglish classic, and then he found that he had to be(olite to his fellow classics, so that afterwards he too* bac* most of the things he had saidabout +ilton or even against ha*es(eare. fter all, he felt that in some ideal way they

were all sharing the same academy.

INT3>I3;3

id 3liot%s wor*, his (oetry, have any effect on your own writing@

B"23

No, I don%t thin* so.

INT3>I3;3

I have been struc* by certain resemblances between The Waste Landand your story &The

Immortal.'

B"23

P


21/37

;ell, there may be something there, but in that case I%m 0uite unaware of it because he%s

not one of the (oets I love. I should ran* ?eats far above him. In fact, if you don%t mind

my saying so, I thin* rost is a finer (oet than 3liot. I mean, a finerpoet. But I su((ose3liot was a far more intelligent man) however, intelligence has little to do with (oetry.

$oetry s(rings from something dee(er) it%s beyond intelligence. It may not even be lin*ed

with wisdom. It%s a thing of its own) it has a nature of its own. Andefinable. I remember#of course I was a young man#I was even angry when 3liot s(o*e in a slighting way of

andburg. I remember he said that 8lassicism is good#I%m not 0uoting his words, but the

drift of them#because it enabled us to deal with such writers as +ister 8arl andburg.;hen one calls a (oet &+ister' laughterO, it%s a word of haughty feelings) it means

+ister o!and!so who has found his way into (oetry and has no right to be there, who is

really an outsider. In (anish it%s still worse because sometimes when we s(ea* of a (oet

we say, &3l octor o!and!so.' Then that annihilates him, that blots him out.

INT3>I3;3

?ou li*e andburg, then@

B"23

?es, I do. "f course, I thin* ;hitman is far more im(ortant than andburg, but when you

read ;hitman, you thin* of him as a literary, (erha(s a not!too!learned man of letters,who is doing his best to write in the vernacular, and who is using slang as much as he

can. In andburg the slang seems to come naturally. Now of course there are two

andburgs There is the rough) but there is also a very delicate andburg, es(ecially whenhe deals with landsca(es. ometimes when he is describing the fog, for e/am(le, you are

reminded of a 8hinese (ainting. ;hile in other (oems of andburg you rather thin* of,

well, gangsters, hoodlums, that *ind of (eo(le. But I su((ose he could be both, and Ithin* he was e0ually sincere when he was doing his best to be the (oet of 8hicago andwhen he wrote in 0uite a different mood. nother thing that I find strange in andburg is

that in ;hitman#but of course ;hitman is andburg%s father#;hitman is full of ho(e,

while andburg writes as if he were writing in the two or three centuries to come. ;henhe writes of the merican e/(editionary forces, or when he writes about em(ire or the

;ar or so on, he writes as if all those things were dead and gone by.

INT3>I3;3

There is an element of fantasy in his wor*, then#which leads me to as* you about the

fantastic. ?ou use the word a great deal in your writing, and I remember that you callGreen &ansions, for e/am(le, a fantastic novel.

B"23

;ell, it is.

INT3>I3;3

1


22/37

7ow would you definefantastic, then@

B"23

I wonder if you candefine it. I thin* it%s rather an intention in a writer. I remember a very

dee( remar* of Jose(h 8onrad#he is one of my favorite authors#I thin* it is in theforeword to something li*e The Dar: Line, but it%s not that . . .

INT3>I3;3

The Shado" Line@

B"23

The Shado" Line. In that foreword he said that some (eo(le have thought that the storywas a fantastic story because of the ca(tain%s ghost sto((ing the shi(. 7e wrote#and that

struc* me because I write fantastic stories myself#that to deliberately write a fantasticstory was not to feel that the whole universe is fantastic and mysterious) nor that it meant

a lac* of sensibility for a (erson to sit down and write something deliberately fantastic.8onrad thought that when one wrote, even in a realistic way, about the world, one was

writing a fantastic story because the world itself is fantastic and unfathomable and

mysterious.

INT3>I3;3

?ou share this belief@

B"23

?es. I found that he was right. I tal*ed to Bioy 8asares, who also writes fantastic stories

#very, very fine stories#and he said, &I thin* 8onrad is right. eally, nobody *nowswhether the world is realistic or fantastic, that is to say, whether the world is a natural

(rocess or whether it is a *ind of dream, a dream that we may or may not share with

others.'

INT3>I3;3

?ou have often collaborated with Bioy 8asares, haven%t you@

B"23

?es, I have always collaborated with him. 3very night I dine at his house, and then after

dinner we sit down and write.

INT3>I3;3


23/37

;ould you describe your method of collaboration@

B"23

;ell, it%s rather 0ueer. ;hen we write together, when we collaborate, we call ourselves

&7. Bustos omec0.' Bustos was a great!great!grandfather of mine, and omec0 was agreat!great!grandfather of his. Now, the 0ueer thing is that when we write, and we write

mostly humorous stuff#even if the stories are tragic, they are told in a humorous way, or

they are told as if the teller hardly understood what he was saying#when we writetogether, what comes of the writing, if we are successful, and sometimes we are#why

not@ after all, I%m s(ea*ing in the (lural, no@#when our writing is successful, then what

comes out is something 0uite different from Bioy 8asares%s stuff and my stuff, even the:o*es are different. o we have created between us a *ind of third (erson) we have

somehow begotten a third (erson that is 0uite unli*e us.

INT3>I3;3

fantastic author@

B"23

?es, a fantastic author with his li*es, his disli*es, and a (ersonal style that is meant to beridiculous) but still, it is a style of his own, 0uite different from the *ind of style I write

when I try to create a ridiculous character. I thin* that%s the only way of collaborating.

2enerally s(ea*ing, we go over the (lot together before we set (en to (a(er#rather, Ishould tal* about ty(ewriters because he has a ty(ewriter. Before we begin writing, we

discuss the whole story) then we go over the details, we change them, of course we thin*

of a beginning, and then we thin* the beginning might be the end or that it might be morestri*ing if somebody said nothing at all or said something 0uite outside the mar*. "ncethe story is written, if you as* us whether this ad:ective or this (articular sentence came

from Bioy or from me, we can%t tell.

INT3>I3;3

It comes from the third (erson.

B"23

?es. I thin* that%s the only way of collaborating because I have tried collaborating withother (eo(le. ometimes it wor*s out all right, but sometimes one feels that the

collaborator is a *ind of rival. "r, if not#as in the case of $eyrou#we begancollaborating, but he is timid and a very courteous, a very (olite *ind of (erson, and

conse0uently, if he says anything, and you ma*e any ob:ections, he feels hurt, and he

ta*es it bac*. 7e says, &"h, yes, of course, of course, yes, I was 0uite wrong. It was a

blunder.' "r if you (ro(ose anything, he says, &"h, that%s wonderfulK' Now that *ind ofthing can%t be done. In the case of me and 8asares, we don%t feel as if we are two rivals, or

C


24/37

even as if we were two men who (lay chess. There%s no case of winning or losing. ;hat

we%re thin*ing of is the story itself, the stuff itself.

INT3>I3;3

I%m sorry, I%m not familiar with the second writer you named.

B"23

$eyrou. 7e began by imitating 8hesterton and writing stories, detective stories, not

unworthy, and even worthy of 8hesterton. But now he%s struc* a new line of novels

whose aim is to show what this country was li*e during $erHn%s time and after $erHn too*to flight. I don%t care very much for that *ind of writing. I understand that his novels are

fine) but, I should say, from the historical, even the :ournalistic (oint of view. ;hen he

began writing stories after 8hesterton, and then he wrote some very fine stories#one of

them made me cry, but of course, (erha(s it made me cry because he s(o*e of the 0uarter

I was bred in, $alermo, and of hoodlums of those days#a boo* calledLa *oche-epetida, with very, very fine stories about gangsters, hoodlums, holdu( men, that *ind

of thing. nd all that way bac*, let%s say, well, at the beginning of the century. Now hehas started this new *ind of novel wherein he wants to show what the country was li*e.

INT3>I3;3

4ocal color, more or less@

B"23

4ocal color and local (olitics. Then his characters are very interested, well, in graft, inloot, ma*ing money, and so on. s I am less interested in those sub:ects, maybe it%s my

fault, not his, if I (refer his early stuff. But I always thin* of him as a great writer, an

im(ortant writer, and an old friend of mine.

INT3>I3;3

?ou have said that your own wor* has moved from, in the early times, e?pression, to, inthe later times, allusion.

B"23

?es.

INT3>I3;3

;hat do you mean by allusion@

B"23

G


25/37

4oo*, I mean to say this ;hen I began writing, I thought that everything should be

defined by the writer. or e/am(le, to say &the moon' was strictly forbidden) that one had

to find an ad:ective, an e(ithet for the moon.


26/37

?es, he must have said it) in any case, he must have agreed with that. 4oo*, his own

3nglish was rather cumbersome, and the first thing you feel is that he is writing in a

cumbersome 3nglish#that there are far too many 4atin words in it#but if you rereadwhat is written, you find that behind those involutions of (hrase there is always a

meaning, generally an interesting and a new meaning.

INT3>I3;3

(ersonal one@

B"23

?es, a (ersonal one. o even though he wrote in a 4atin style, I thin* he is the most

3nglish of writers. I thin* of him as#this is a blas(hemy, of course, but why not be

blas(hemous while we%re about it@#I thin* that Johnson was a far more 3nglish writer

than ha*es(eare. Because if there%s one thing ty(ical of 3nglishmen, it%s their habit of

understatement. ;ell, in the case of ha*es(eare, there are no understatements. "n thecontrary, he is (iling on the agonies, as I thin* the merican said. I thin* Johnson, who

wrote a 4atin *ind of 3nglish, and ;ordsworth, who wrote more a/on words, and thereis a third writer whose name I can%t recall#well#let%s say Johnson, ;ordsworth, and

Di(ling also, I thin* they%re far more ty(ically 3nglish than ha*es(eare. I don%t *now

why, but I always feel something Italian, something Jewish about ha*es(eare, and(erha(s 3nglishmen admire him because of that, because it%s so unli*e them.

INT3>I3;3

nd why the rench disli*e him to the e/tent that they do) because he%s so bombastic.

B"23

7e "asvery bombastic. I remember I saw a film some days ago#not too good a film#

calledDarling. There some verses of ha*es(eare are 0uoted. Now those verses arealways better when they are 0uoted because he is defining 3ngland, and he calls it, for

e/am(le, &This other 3den, demi!(aradise . . . This (recious stone set in the silver sea'

and so on, and in the end he says something li*e, &this realm, this 3ngland.' Now whenthat 0uotation is made, the reader sto(s there, but in the te/t I thin* the verses go on so

that the whole (oint is lost. The real (oint would have been the idea of a man trying to

define 3ngland, loving her very much and finding at the end that the only thing he can do

is to say &3ngland' outright#as if you said &merica.' But if he says &this realm, thisland, this 3ngland,' and then goes on &this demi!(aradise' and so on, the whole (oint is

lost becauseEnglandshould be the last word. ;ell, I su((ose ha*es(eare always wrote

in a hurry, as the (layer said to Ben Jonson, and so be it. ?ou%ve no time to feel that thatwould have been the last word, the word 3ngland, summing u( and blotting out all the

others, saying, &;ell, I%ve been attem(ting something that is im(ossible.' But he went on

with it, with his meta(hors and his bombast, because he was bombastic. 3ven in such a

6


27/37

famous (hrase as 7amlet%s last words, I thin* &The rest is silence.' There is something

(hony about it) it%s meant to im(ress. I don%t thin* anybody would say anything li*e that.

INT3>I3;3

In the conte/t of the (lay, my favorite line in$amletoccurs :ust after 8laudius%s (rayingscene when 7amlet enters his mother%s chamber and says &Now, +other, what%s the

matter@'

B"23

&;hat%s the matter@' is the o((osite of &The rest is silence.' t least for me, &The rest issilence' has a hollow ring about it. "ne feels that ha*es(eare is thin*ing, &;ell, now

$rince 7amlet of enmar* is dying 7e must say something im(ressive.' o he e*es out

that (hrase &The rest is silence.' Now that may be im(ressive, but it is not trueK 7e was

wor*ing away at his :ob of (oet and not thin*ing of the real character, of 7amlet the

ane.

INT3>I3;3

;hen you are wor*ing, what *ind of reader do you imagine you are writing for, if you do

imagine it@ ;ho would be your ideal audience@

B"23

$erha(s a few (ersonal friends of mine. Not myself because I never reread what I%ve

written. I%m far too afraid to feel ashamed of what I%ve done.

INT3>I3;3

o you e/(ect the many (eo(le who read your wor* to catch the allusions andreferences@

B"23

No. +ost of those allusions and references are merely (ut there as a *ind of (rivate :o*e.

INT3>I3;3

pri%ate:o*e@

B"23

:o*e not to be shared with other (eo(le. I mean, if they share it, all the better) but ifthey don%t, I don%t care a hang about it.

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INT3>I3;3

Then it%s the o((osite a((roach to allusion from, say, 3liot in The Waste Land.

B"23

I thin* that 3liot and Joyce wanted their readers to be rather mystified and so to beworrying out the sense of what they had done.

INT3>I3;3

?ou seem to have read as much, if not more, nonfiction or factual material as fiction and

(oetry. Is that true@ or e/am(le, you a((arently li*e to read encyclo(edias.

B"23

h, yes. I%m very fond of that. I remember a time when I used to come here to read. I wasa very young man, and I was far too timid to as* for a boo*. Then I was rather, I won%t

say (oor, but I wasn%t too wealthy in those days#so I used to come every night here and

(ic* out a volume of theEncyclopaedia !ritannica, the old edition.

INT3>I3;3

The eleventh@

B"23

The eleventh or twelfth because those editions are far above the new ones. They weremeant to be read. Now they are merely reference boo*s. ;hile in the eleventh or twelfth

edition of theEncyclopaedia !ritannica, you had long articles by +acaulay, by8oleridge) no, not by 8oleridge by . . .

INT3>I3;3

By e -uincey@

B"23

?es, by e -uincey, and so on. o that I used to ta*e any volume from the shelves#therewas no need to as* for them They were reference boo*s#and then I o(ened the boo* till

I found an article that interested me, for e/am(le, about the +ormons or about any

(articular writer. I sat down and read it because those articles were really monogra(hs,

really boo*s or short boo*s. The same goes for the 2erman encyclo(edias#!roc:haus or&eyers. ;hen we got the new co(y, I thought that was what they call the The !aby

!roc:haus, but it wasn%t. It was e/(lained to me that because (eo(le live in small flats

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there is no longer room for boo*s in thirty volumes. 3ncyclo(edias have suffered greatly)

they have been (ac*ed in.

AN -AINT3" interruptingO

I%m sorry.Est@ esperando eleQor 8am(bell.

B"23

h, (lease as* him to wait :ust a moment more. Those 8am(bells *ee( coming.

INT3>I3;3

+ay I as* :ust a few more 0uestions@

B"23

?es, (lease, of course.

INT3>I3;3

ome readers have found that your stories are cold, im(ersonal, rather li*e some of thenewer rench writers. Is that your intention@

B"23

No. I3;3

Then a boo* li*e the little volume calledE%ernesswould be a good boo* for someone to

read about your wor*@

B"23

I thin* it is. Besides, the lady who wrote it is a close friend of mine. I found that word in

-oget's Thesaurus. Then I thought that word was invented by Bisho( ;il*ins, whoinvented an artificial language.

INT3>I3;3

?ou%ve written about that.

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B"23

?es, I wrote about ;il*ins. But he also invented a wonderful word that strangely enough

has never been used by 3nglish (oets#an awful word, really, a terrible word.E%erness,of course, is better than eternitybecause eternity is rather worn now.E%er


31/37

(oetry. "f course, as I have my hobby, I%ll try to wor* in some "ld 3nglish verses, but

that%s 3nglish alsoK In fact, according to some of my students, it%s far more 3nglish than

8haucer%s 3nglishK

INT3>I3;3

To get bac* to your own wor* for a moment I have often wondered how you go about

arranging wor*s in those collections. "bviously the (rinci(le is not chronological. Is it

similarity of theme@

B"23

No, not chronology) but sometimes I find out that I%ve written the same (arable or story

twice over, or that two different stories carry the same meaning, and so I try to (ut them

alongside each other. That%s the only (rinci(le. Because, for e/am(le, once it ha((ened to

me to write a (oem, a not too good (oem, and then to rewrite it many years afterwards.

fter the (oem was written, some of my friends told me, &;ell, that%s the same (oem you(ublished some five years ago.' nd I said, &;ell, so it isK' But I hadn%t the faintest

notion that it was. fter all, I thin* that a (oet has maybe five or si/ (oems to write andnot more than that. 7e%s trying his hand at rewriting them from different angles and

(erha(s with different (lots and in different ages and different characters, but the (oems

are essentially and innerly the same.

INT3>I3;3

?ou have written many reviews and :ournal articles.

B"23

;ell, I had to do it.

INT3>I3;3

id you choose the boo*s you wanted to review@

B"23

?es, I generally did.

INT3>I3;3

o the choice does e/(ress your own tastes@

B"23

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"h yes, yes. or e/am(le, when somebody told me to write a review of a certain &7istory

of 4iterature,' I found there were so many howlers and blunders, and as I greatly admire

the author as a (oet, I said, &No, I don%t want to write about it, because if I write about it Ishall write against it.' I don%t li*e to attac* (eo(le, es(ecially now#when I was a young

man, yes, I was very fond of it, ut as time goes on, one finds that it is no good. ;hen

(eo(le write in favor or against anybody, that hardly hel(s or hurts them. I thin* that aman can be hel(ed, well, the man can be done or undone by his o"nwriting, not by what

other (eo(le say of him, so that even if you brag a lot and (eo(le say that you are a

genius#well, you%ll be found out.

INT3>I3;3

o you have any (articular method for the naming of your characters@

B"23

I have two methods "ne of them is to wor* in the names of my grandfathers, great!grandfathers, and so on. To give them a *ind of, well, I won%t say immortality, but that%s

one of the methods. The other is to use names that somehow stri*e me. or e/am(le, in astory of mine, one of the characters who comes and goes is called ?armolins*y because

the name struc* me#it%s a strange word, no@ Then another character is called ed

charlach because charlach meansscarletin 2erman, and he was a murderer) he wasdoubly red, no@ ed charlach ed carlet.

INT3>I3;3

;hat about the (rincess with the beautiful name who occurs in two of your stories@

B"23

aucigny 4ucinge@ ;ell, she%s a great friend of mine. he%s an rgentine lady. he

married a rench (rince, and as the name is very beautiful, as most rench titles are,es(ecially if you cut out the aucigny, as she does. he calls herself 4a $rincesse de

4ucinge. It%s a beautiful word.

INT3>I3;3

;hat about TlRn and A0bar@

B"23

"h, well, those are merely meant to be uncouth. Sou


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B"23

?es, more or less un(ronounceable, and then TlAnB tI3;3

;ould you say that in your stories you have tried to hybridie the short story and theessay@

B"23

?es#but I have done that on (ur(ose. The first to (oint that out to me was 8asares. 7e

said that I had written short stories that were really sort of halfway houses between anessay and a story.

INT3>I3;3

;as that (artly to com(ensate for your timidity about writing narratives@

B"23

?es, it may have been. ?es) because nowadays, or at least today, I began writing thatseries of stories about hoodlums of Buenos ires Those are straightforward stories.

There is nothing of the essay about them or even of (oetry. The story is told in a

straightforward way, and those stories are in a sense sad, (erha(s horrible. They are

always understated. They are told by (eo(le who are also hoodlums, and you can hardlyunderstand them. They may be tragedies, but tragedy is not felt by them. They merely tell

the story, and the reader is, I su((ose, made to feel that the story goes dee(er than the

story itself. Nothing is said of the sentiments of the characters#I got that out of the "ld

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34/37

Norse saga#the idea that one should *now a character by his words and by his deeds,

but that one shouldn%t get inside his s*ull and say what he was thin*ing.

INT3>I3;3

o they are non(sychological rather than im(ersonal@

B"23

?es, but there is a hidden (sychology behind the story because, if not, the characters

would be mere (u((ets.

INT3>I3;3

;hat about the 8abala@ ;hen did you first get interested in that@

B"23

I thin* it was through e -uincey, through his idea that the whole world was a set ofsymbols, or that everything meant something else. Then when I lived in 2eneva, I had

two (ersonal, two great friends#+aurice bramowic and imon Jichlins*i#their

names tell you the stoc* they s(rang from They were $olish Jews. I greatly admiredwiterland and the nation itself, not merely the scenery and the towns) but the wiss are

very standoffish) one can hardly have a wiss friend because as they have to live on

foreigners, I su((ose they disli*e them. That would be the same case with the +e/icans.They chiefly live on mericans, on merican tourists, and I don%t thin* anybody li*es to

be a hotel *ee(er even though there%s nothing dishonorable about it. But if you are a hotel

*ee(er, if you have to entertain many (eo(le from other countries, well, you feel that theyare different from you, and you may disli*e them in the long run.

INT3>I3;3

7ave you tried to ma*e your own stories 8abalistic@

B"23

?es, sometimes I have.

INT3>I3;3

Asing traditional 8abalistic inter(retations@

B"23

No. I read a boo* called&a7or Trends in 5e"ish &ysticism.

CG


35/37

INT3>I3;3

The one by cholem@

B"23

?es, by cholem and another boo* by Trachtenberg on Jewish su(erstitions. Then I haveread all the boo*s of the 8abala I have found and all the articles in the encyclo(edias and

so on. But I have no 7ebrew whatever. I may have Jewish ancestors, but I can%t tell. +y

mother%s name is cevedo cevedo may be a name for a $ortuguese Jew, but again, it

may not. Now if you%re called braham, I thin* there is no doubt whatever about it, but asthe Jews too* Italian, (anish, $ortuguese names, it does not necessarily follow that if

you have one of those names you come from Jewish stoc*. The word ace%edo, of course,

means a *ind of tree) the word is not es(ecially Jewish, though many Jews are calledcevedo. I can%t tell. I wish I had some Jewish forefathers.

INT3>I3;3

?ou once wrote that all men are either $latonists or ristotelians.

B"23

I didn%t say that. 8oleridge said it.

INT3>I3;3

But you 0uoted him.

B"23

?es, I 0uoted him.

INT3>I3;3

nd which are you@

B"23

I thin* I%m ristotelian, but I wish it were the other way. I thin* it%s the 3nglish strain thatma*es me thin* of (articular things and (ersons being real rather than general ideas being

real. But I%m afraid now that the 8am(bells are coming.

INT3>I3;3

Before I go, would you mind signing my co(y ofLabyrinths@

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36/37

B"23

I%ll be glad to. h yes, I *now this boo*. There%s my (icture#but do I really loo* li*e

this@ I don%t li*e that (icture. I%m not so gloomy@ o beaten down@

INT3>I3;3

on%t you thin* it loo*s (ensive@

B"23

$erha(s. But so dar*@ o heavy@ The brow . . . oh, well.

INT3>I3;3

o you li*e this edition of your writings@

B"23

good translation, no@ 3/ce(t that there are too many 4atin words in it. or e/am(le, if Iwrote, :ust say, habitacin oscuraI3;3

They are read, but mostly in the secondary schools.

B"23

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37/37

;hat about ". 7enry@

INT3>I3;3

gain, mostly in the schools.

B"23

nd I su((ose there mostly for the techni0ue, the sur(rise ending. I don%t li*e that tric*,do you@ "h, it%s all right in theory) in (ractice, that%s something else. ?ou can read them

only once if there is :ust the sur(rise. ?ou remember what $o(e said &the art of sin*ing.'

Now in the detective story, that%s different. The sur(rise is there, too, but there are also thecharacters) the scene or the landsca(e to satisfy us. But now I remember that the

8am(bells are coming, the 8am(bells are coming. They are su((osed to be a ferocious

tribe. ;here are they@

F ll (arenthetical dates above indicate merican (ublication in translation.

F osas, Juan +anuel de

Documents

Intervju 1