JOSE DONOSO
41
Latin American critics know that there is a
how
at all. This is not a
question that has ever been posed to their minds, you see. The
how
of a novel doesn't matter. It is the
what!
And the
why.
I tend to
prefer to read criticism by fellow writers rather than by critics. I
enjoy that tremendously! What we call
La cocina,
you know, the
kitchen of writing is one of the most interesting things in the
world .
Christ:
You people in the Boom have a notoriously close relationship;
it's almost like a literary family. Has there been much of an ex–
change of criticism?
Donoso:
No. It's not at all a literary family. Not at all. It's literate inso–
far as we talk about books sometimes. But I certainly have never
talked about books with Garda Marquez, for example. I talk
about books with Vargas Llosa because he likes that. I enjoy talk–
ing shop with writers, but the thing is, you see, that writers in
Latin America have been warned against this. Writers should not
talk about anything "intellectual." There is this huge pose, this
ghastly travesty of some kind, which is that a writer should be a
simple fellow. When he's not. And he should not be interested in
his craft; he should not talk about his craft with other writers at a
gathering of writers. You hardly ever find people talking about lit–
erature at all. It's not
done!
Christ:
I think it was
Time
that talked about these extraordinary writ–
ers who don't so much write novels as "cater" them. Isn't there a
self-exhausting quality of one-upmanship among the Boom
writers?
Donoso:
Sure there is: one-upmanship based on the natural vanity of
authOl:s.. Everyone wanted to be the Balzac of his time, to recreate
the true Latin American reality, and so each new novel had to go
beyond the previous ones, to "kill off" its rivals. But now, in a
way, hasn't the time come to sort of turn back a little bit? And say:
Well, is this okay? Can we go on? Of course, one has to arrive at
the limit of things to be able to turn back. One can't turn back be–
fore one has got to the limit of things. And the whole thing is that
we have got to the limit of things. Another problem is arterioscler–
osis: you know all our writers suffer from it, in a literary way,
sooner or later. And, God, I don't want that to happen, I don't
want to become an arteriosclerotic writer! I fight it. I keep fighting
it. We have to.
Christ:
In a certain sense, you're saying that the Boom is over.
Donoso:
No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying that a certain attitude of
