MM: What is the difference between a writer and an author?
RB: Silvina Ocampo is one example of an author. Marcela Serrano is one example of a writer. You can measure light-years between one and the other.
MM: What makes you believe you’re a better poet than narrator?
RB: The degree to which I blush when, by mere chance, I open one of my poetry or prose books. The poetry books make me less embarrassed.
MM: Are you Chilean, Spanish, or Mexican?
RB: I am Latin American.
MM: What is your motherland?
RB: I regret having to give a pretentious response. My children, Lautaro and Alexandra, are my only motherland. And perhaps, in the background, certain moments, certain streets, certain faces or scenes or books that are inside me and that some day I will forget — that is the best one can do for a motherland.
MM: What is Chilean literature?
RB: Likely the nightmares of the most resentful and gray poet, and perhaps the most cowardly of all Chilean poets: Carlos Pezoa Véliz, dead at the beginning of the 20th century and author of only two memorable poems, but truly memorable indeed, who continues to suffer and dream of us. It’s possible — isn’t it? — that Pezoa Véliz is agonizing and has yet to die, and that his final minute has been rather long, and that we might all be inside of him. Or at least that all we Chileans are inside of him.
Chilean poet Carlos Pezoa Véliz (1879–1908) embodies the melancholy at the core of Chilean and Latin American poetry. His style was clear and simple and, to Bolaño, appeared to be a direct representation of the Chilean people.
MM: Why do you always take the opposite view of things?
RB: I never take the opposite view of things.
MM: Do you have more friends than enemies?
RB: I have a sufficient amount of friends and enemies, all gratuitous.
MM: Who are your dearest friends?
RB: My best friend was the poet Mario Santiago, who died in 1998. At present, three of my best friends are Ignacio Echevarría, Rodrigo Fresán and A.G. Porta.
MM: Did Antonio Skármeta ever invite you on his program?
RB: One of his secretaries, perhaps his maid, called me on the phone once. I told her I was too busy.
MM: Did Javier Cercas share the royalties for Soldiers of Salamis with you?
RB: No, of course not.
Spanish journalist and literary critic Ignacio Echevarría was a close friend of Bolaño’s and became Bolaño’s literary executor. He is currently a staff writer for El País in Madrid.
Another friend of Bolaño’s, Rodrigo Fresán (b. 1963) is an Argentine fiction writer. His work Gardens of Kensington, 2006, was translated by Natasha Wimmer.
A prolific Spanish author, A.G. Porta was a close friend of Bolaño’s. His debut, and most popular work, is Consejos de un discípulo de Morrison a un fanático de Joyce seguido de Diario de Bar, 1984, which was co-authored by Bolaño. None of his work is available in English.
A Chilean author, screenwriter, and director, Antonio Skármeta (b. 1940) has had his major works translated to English. The program to which Maristain is referring is a television program focusing on Spanish-language literature that was hosted by Skármeta.
A Spanish author, Javier Cercas (b. 1962) enjoys relative success in the English speaking world. His novels The Soldiers of Salamis, 2004, and The Speed of Light, 2007, are both available in English. One of the main characters in The Soldiers of Salamis is named “Roberto Bolaño.”
MM: Enrique Lihn, Jorge Teillier or Nicanor Parra?
RB: Nicanor Parra above all, including Pablo Neruda and Vicente Huidobro and Gabriela Mistral.
MM: Eugenio Montale, T.S. Eliot, or Xavier Villaurrutia?
RB: Montale. If it had been James Joyce instead of Eliot, then Joyce. If it had been Ezra Pound instead of Eliot, then Pound without a doubt.
MM: John Lennon, Lady Di, or Elvis Presley?
RB: The Pogues. Or Suicide. Or Bob Dylan. Well, but let’s not be pretentious: Elvis forever. Elvis and his golden voice, with a sheriff’s badge, driving a Mustang and stuffing himself full of pills.
MM: Who reads more, you or Rodrigo Fresán?
RB: Depends. The West is for Rodrigo. The East is for me. Then we’ll count the books in our corresponding areas and it might appear that we’ve read them all.
MM: In your opinion, what is Pablo Neruda’s greatest poem?
Chilean born poet, playwright, and novelist Enrique Lihn (1929–1988) is the subject of a Bolaño short story, “Meeting with Enrique Lihn.” Lihn’s major works are available in English.
An important Chilean poet, Jorge Teillier (1935–1996) has had two collections of selected works translated into English, In Order to Talk with the Dead, 1993, and From the Country of Nevermore, 1990.
A major Chilean poet, Vicente Huidobro (1893–1948) was one of Bolaño’s favorites. He was prolific, and selections of his work have been translated into English, including Altazor, his major work.
A Chilean poet, Gabriela Mistral (1889–1957) was the first Latin American to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. Her major works Desolación (1922), Ternura (1924), and Tala (1938) have been translated into English.
Eugenio Montale (1886–1981) was a Nobel Prize-winning Italian poet and translator.
Mexican poet, playwright, essayist, and critic Xavier Villaurrutia (1903–1950) was a significant Mexican literary figure. He is most widely appreciated for his work in the theatre, but his complete works, including poems, plays, and a novel have been translated into English.
RB: Almost any in Residence on Earth.
MM: If you had known Gabriela Mistral, what would you have told her?
RB: Forgive me, ma, I’ve been bad, but I turned good for the love of a woman.
MM: And to Salvador Allende?
RB: Little or nothing. Those who have power — even for a short time — know nothing about literature; they are solely interested in power. I can be a clown to my readers, if I damn well please, but never to the powerful. It sounds a bit melodramatic. It sounds like the statement of an honest whore. But in short, that’s how it is.
MM: And to Vicente Huidobro?