Cuban writer Marilyn Bobes writes since she was very young – when she was only 24 years old she won the David Prize for her book of poems La aguja en el pajar – however, not all the readers that her work deserves have read her. We found that out after she appeared on the television program Con dos que se quieran presented by singer-composer Amaury Pérez Vidal. Many of the comments aroused by this broadcast, particularly in the Internet, showed the satisfaction of Cubans for having met her and the wish of many spectators to read her works.
Perhaps Marilyn has enough with a group of faithful followers and going on writing the stories she feels compelled to draw from inside, while at the same time she devotes herself to the literary critique or to edit books. She lives without problems, shadowed by two of the most important acknowledgments received by her work: the prizes Casa de las Américas to the books Alguien tiene que llorar, a story book, in 1995, and the novel Fiebre de invierno ten years later; prizes that only commit her – she has confessed – to be more rigorous with what she writes so as not to disappoint her readers with books of lower quality than the ones that obtained that distinction.
Talking about your poetry to writer Ahmel Echevarría you said: “I try to make the resources with which I construct my poems help me say what I want to say. That they will be a means and not an end”. Can this be a position that sometimes opposes that of writers whose intention is to create a whole technical framework and not to establish an effective communication with whoever reads them?
The problems of communication are complicated. There are those who even enjoy that technical framework you refer to, and there are others who think, like I do, that they are writing to transmit what they want to say, and find a kind of reader who wishes even more clarity. I think diversity is the best way to have publics and not the public. In my opinion, it is a mistake to consider the receiver as an homogeneous mass with equal reception interests. Preferences may range from the clarity of Mario Benedetti to the hermetic nature of Lezama Lima. I think it all lies in the level of authenticity and rigor. Whatever the form of expression may be.
You have written that poetry at present seems to you like a too prodigal genre. A forest that does not allow you to see the trees. Has the rigor of the writer, of the jurors in contests, of the editors, of the journalists and even of the reader himself become too loose with regard to the poetry that is written today?
That’s what I think, although I admit the possibility of being mistaken.
Referring to your narrative, in Fiebre de invierno and Mujer perjura writing becomes the form of giving faith of existence of finding its keys. But at the end of your novel Fiebre de invierno we read: “In the meantime, I, decided to write Fiebre de invierno, look again at Mozart’s face and reread the dedication in Nuta’s postcard. Incomprehension and meanness, what does Benvenuta know about incomprehension and meanness? She, to whom everything has been so easy”. Although the leading figure of the novel succeeds in writing, in drawing everything out from inside herself, one perceives a certain air of – defeat? Is writing enough to be in peace with the world and with oneself?
Mixing characters with author’s thesis is a frequent habit of some critics. Evidently, to the leading character of Fiebre… writing did not suffice to – as you say – “be in peace with the world and with her own self”. I suppose that to other characters in other novels it was enough. Writing is not a therapeutic method or a testimony, but a form of knowledge, a reflection on existence. That does not mean that the writer always coincides with the point of view of his/her characters. He/She only takes their place to grant them virtual life.
Throughout your work there prevails the interest in placing the reader in front of peculiarities of interpersonal relations, of different choices of forms of life, of the motivations of certain subjects on certain moments of their lives and of the country’s life and the “solutions” they find. Why do you like to tell these stories with themes that may seem unimportant and at the same time how do you succeed in putting them together so accurately, a task that perhaps is ignored?
I could not answer that question. In my case, the process of writing is totally unconscious, and the interpretations that could be made of my texts I would prefer to leave to others.
Tell me about your relationship to the Cuban readers. Do you feel that each one of us has read your stories according to your purposes, or have we been able to make other readings, even going as far as the semiological guerrilla?
The good thing about literature is its polysemic nature. That makes it possible for the readers to add their own subjectivity to the work. I am convinced that each reader always reads a story differently. And that pleases me.
A short time ago you presented an anthology of your poetry, but you have not published narrative since 2009. After so many years writing, how do you face the creative process?
The same way I have always faced it: because of a need of expression. I do not write to accumulate titles, but following that so old-fashioned thing called inspiration. In addition to making literature I have many other occupations, such as edition, journalism and cultural promotion. They have the same importance for my professional life.
Can you give me some news about Aprendiz de Menard?
It is my second story book, which once had that title. It is now in the process of edition by Letras Cubanas, and is called Los signos conjeturales. It is a group of stories whose theme are characters of world literature, presented in contemporariness and placed in the face of new situations.
Could there be a second edition of Alguien tiene que llorar?
I received a proposal from Ediciones Cubanas, but nothing has been agreed up to now.
Now that we are in 2012, do you think that Cuban literature has succeeded in getting rid of the themes handled in the 1990s? Which new or old concerns are contained in the books that are being published in Cuba or that you have recently read?
I think we are living a new period of rupture, where there is greater universality in the themes. Many books I have read develop their stories in meta-realities or have stories occurring in countries other than Cuba. I also notice a displacement toward non-temporal problems of the human being, as well as the elimination of that somewhat journalistic or testimonial tone that prevailed in the 1990s, with exceptions.
Could you describe yourself as an editor in a publishing world which you have said lacks aggressiveness or curiosity on the part of the editors? How is your relationship to the author whose book you are helping to come out to the world?
I try to channel everything that seems valuable to me through the publishing house where I work, Ediciones Unión. Of course, the books I propose go through an evaluation made by our readers, and they require the approval of our editorial council. The edition is a group work as concerns its promotion. As to the books that have been approved and are handed to me, I assume them as mine and suggest changes, elimination of chapters, anything that, in my opinion, may improve them. At the end I always respect the author’s decision. But I never restrict myself to correcting only the style. I think an editor is much more than that, and in this regard I always try to do what I do using as much experience as I may have as a writer.
What made you start writing poetry when you were 12?
It is difficult to recall why I began to write. Perhaps the fact that during all the years of primary school I was selected by my teachers to memorize and say texts by Martí, Bonifacio Byrne and other authors whom I don’t remember anymore at the school celebrations. Those readings put me in contact with that genre of literature since a very early age. Later, my mother was a faithful reader of “commercial” poets like José Ángel Buesa or Hilarión Cabrisas and other more far-reaching ones like Juana de Ibarburu and Alfonsina Storni. In High School, with the first loves of adolescence, I developed the desire to write texts related with still inexperienced feelings inside of me. My motivations were naïf and were born of a very intimate need of expression.
Do you remember what you felt when your first book was published? Has this feeling changed with the passing of the years and the publication of new books?
The sensation in the face of my first published book was of immense happiness. I was certain to have attained a level of professional achievement that did not repeat itself afterwards, with the passing of the years. My lack of maturity in those days did now allow me to realize the great responsibility I had acquired before society and my possible readers. After La aguja en el pajar I have always felt that weight and a certain discomfort when I become aware of the curiosity (perhaps logical) that my person and not only my work awakens among the others. I am shy and prefer anonymity. But I think that is an impossible aspiration for a writer, and in general for all artists. Particularly if he/she has won a prize (or prizes) of certain importance.
What role has your family played in making you persevere in writing?
My perseverance in writing has never depended of any external element, but of myself. My family has always given me their full support, although they not always like all I write.
What do you consider a good day?
A good day for Marilyn Bobes is everyday. Even the worst ones.
During the interview with Amaury Pérez on the television program Con dos que se quieran, you said there was a Cuban way of writing, referring to the elements of Cuban-ness present in the work of writers in the Island. What is your Cuban way of living?
Those are things that are not conceptualized. They are experienced and go from the form of running to the forms of relating with our fellow citizens and the environment. I could perhaps summarize my Cuban way of living by saying that it is my way of being the way I am: a Cuban who is proud of being one and of living in this Island that made me the way I am.
Author
Sheyla Valladares
