The role of the writer as a powerful force in the changing of the world. Investigation into the work of Luisa Valenzuela and Isabel Allende.

The focus of this essay is an exploration into literature as a form of resistance. It covers three main areas of interest; the deconstruction of history through literature, questions of authority and censorship and the emancipation of women. It is an analysis of two novels: ‘De amor y de sombra’ by Isabel Allende and ‘Cola de lagartija’ by Luisa Valenzuela. Ultimately, it is an exploration into how literature challenges established conventions and how it can be a powerful stimulant for change in all areas of society. Although united by a number of themes and a desire for social and political change, Allende and Valenzuela differ greatly in their respective approaches to the subject matter. Their stylistic differences position them at opposite ends of the literary spectrum; whilst Allende’s fiction is conventional, Valenzuela’s work is definitively avant-garde. This contrast offers an interesting investigation into the effectiveness of their different techniques and opens up the wider debate with regards to accessibility to the reading public and whether experimental fiction, fundamentally esoteric in nature, is an appropriate vehicle for protest literature. This research is based on a comprehensive study of relevant literary criticism; mainly concerning the writing of women under dictatorship. Research presented a wide range of opinions regarding what can be seen as the internal conflict of the Post-Boom movement; whether at times of crisis simplified literature is more effective as it reaches more people and therefore can have a greater impact. The conclusions presented in this study show that both Allende and Valenzuela provide a necessary reflection on the traumatic history of Argentina and Chile in the 1970s and 80s, where literature’s role is to enforce remembrance and provide a certain form of catharsis. However, this dissertation advocates that it is through experimental literature that established ideas and social conventions are most effectively dismantled.    

At times of political instability, where totalitarian regimes attempt to oppress a nation through violence and the censorship of all ideas that are not in line with the official doctrine, the written word becomes a powerful weapon; considered to be just as dangerous for those who use it as those who it is used against. During the 1970s and 80s the military dictatorships of Argentina and Chile saw thousands of people ‘disappear.’ Some were found in mass graves, some fled to exile, but for the majority of the families there were no answers, just the arguably greater trauma of knowing that their relatives could perhaps still be alive, suffering at the hands of a torturer. Years later, and this remains a prominent issue; how to come to terms with a past that is still so distressing, in part due to the attempts of those in power to hide the true nature of events. Literature plays a crucial role when it comes to reflecting on the past, contributing to the collective memory and providing alternative interpretations, especially when these interpretations have been previously denied. Luisa Valenzuela reflects, “There seems to be a public awareness that only by naming the terror can we avoid being terrorized again.”[1] Unlike the writing of history, literature is not limited by demands for authenticity and tales are told through allegory, cloaked in symbolism and charged with an emotional drive that can act as powerful inspiration. Authoritarian rule, based on the principle that there is only one correct viewpoint aims to eradicate all other opinion; any deviation from the official ideology is deemed subversive and dangerous and is subsequently repressed. Writers are persecuted and censorship makes publication practically impossible. The radicalization of politics consequently led to the radicalization of literature. The Latin American literary circle that had gained international acclaim through the Boom generation and it’s focus on experimental literature that centered around the human condition and the questioning of reality now came under criticism for its lack of political commitment and social responsibility. Writers were criticized for writing for a bourgeois elite whilst ignoring the widespread suffering across Latin America. The Post-Boom and its focus on political and social commitment through writing can be seen to have its origins in the horror of reality and the daily trauma that affected all citizens. As Donald Shaw maintains, writers belonging to the Post-Boom movement “tend to oppose radical forms of experimentation not so much in themselves as because they are alleged to encourage elitism and to distract the reader from what is seen as the really appropriate strategy: that of concentrating attention on themes of social injustice, authoritarianism, the will to revolution, and so on.”[2] However, this is clearly an area of conflict, for whilst Isabel Allende’s writing can be seen to reflect the criteria set out in the previous statement, Luisa Valenzuela fits less comfortably. Valenzuela’s writing is deliberately ambiguous, fragmented and presents a challenge to a reader. Through parody and exaggeration she deconstructs authoritarian discourse, unsettles established notions of gender and society, not providing answers but enforcing questions. This is an area of much debate within the movement; whether a message should be simplified so as to be accessible or whether conventions can be broken more effectively through experimental fiction, which elicits a more thoughtful response from a reader. For both Allende and Valenzuela, the act of writing itself can be seen as an important endeavour in dismantling relationships of power. Both writers set out to deconstruct the political rhetoric of authoritarian discourse and in doing so, further deconstruct the system of patriarchy on which Latin American society has been established. The way in which their writing conflicts and converges whilst exploring a number of themes offers an interesting comparison. Ultimately, it is their shared motives that unite them, as they contribute to the wealth of literature dedicated to the remembrance of horror, which previously went untold.

How does literature contribute to the interpretation of the past and the construction of memory?

           “Contexts are charged politically. What is remembered and what is forgotten, and why, change over time…There are struggles over who is authorized to remember and what they are authorized to remember.”[1] When events are concealed, and the ‘official’ history has been twisted by those in control, the act of remembering becomes of utmost importance. Valenzuela proclaims, “escribimos para descubrir, para develar, pero también para se?alar aquello que por comodidad preferimos olvidar.”[2] In both texts the idea of those in power controlling knowledge and ultimately controlling the writing of history is explored. The ‘ley de obediencia debida’ passed in 1987 in Argentina and the Amnesty law passed in Chile in 1978 have meant that many of those responsible for the atrocities committed in the 1970s and 80s, have not been brought to justice. Literature then

becomes a form of catharsis and a way of recognizing the wrong that has been done. Jean Franco states, “there has to be critical reflection on the historical trauma that prompts social memory. This is one of the tasks that literature has undertaken.”[3] One of the most crucial issues that a nation faces after it is subjected to authoritarian rule is how to rewrite this ‘official’ history after a period of such repression. In an article written for the New York Times, Valenzuela asks “after 10 years of bloody censorship, does a nation remember how to write? […] how do people recognize the truth when what is now known as the complicity of silence has stifled them?”[4]

           Allende’s ‘General,’ a damning portrayal of Pinochet, tells his men after the discovery of human remains in a mine, that they should “aseguren a la opinión pública que castigaremos a los culpables, después veremos, la gente tiene mala memoria.”[5] The novel is constructed around a historical event; the excavation of the Lonquén Mine in 1978. ′De amor y de Sombra′ traces various elements of this historical event; the trials of the military officers where false testimonies were given, the judge declaring himself incompetent and the “decreto de amnistía improvisado en el último instante,”[6] that meant no one was ever punished for the crimes that were committed. Elías Miguel Mu?oz writes “de la historia se nutre la ficción de Allende,”[7] this means that her stories acquire a testimonial element, which adds an emotional quality to her work, above all for those directly affected by the events that she draws on. In her essay ′La Magia de las Palabras′ she writes, “conocemos el poder de las palabras y estamos obligados a emplearlos para contribuir a un mejor destino de nuestra tierra.”[8] When the mine becomes a site of remembrance it is simply blown up, “pretendiendo eliminarla también de la Historia.”[9] The people, at all times treated with contempt and regarded with suspicion, are not allowed to grieve. The bodies of the dead are never returned to the families as “no deseaban más disturbios,”[10] and after protests which result in a promise that they will be returned, they are deposited at the last minute “en una fosa común,”[11] deliberately carried out “por orden superior.”[12] Allende’s writing focuses on the injustices that were committed, seeing herself as “una voz que habla por los que sufren y callan en nuestra tierra.”[13] In this way, her novel achieves what she intends to and as Linda Gould Levine concludes “Allende’s novel, while unable to provide the means for reconciliation, offers a compelling testimony of historical truth.”[14]

           The incapacity of language to express pain is an idea that Elaine Scarry looks at in her study ′The Body in Pain′. She writes, “whatever pain achieves, it achieves in part through its unsharability, and it ensures this unsharability through its resistance to language.”[24] The distressing nature of the themes covered mean they are problematic to express. This leads to the two writers employing very different methods in order to recount a past that is “demasiado dolorosa y reciente. Incomprensible. Incontable.”[25] Before ′Cola de Lagartija′ begins, in “la advertencia”, Valenzuela asserts that to tell this story, “se echará mano a todos los recursos: el humor negro, el sarcasmo, el grotesco. Se mitificará en grande, como corresponde,”[26] concluding, “nuestra arma es la letra.”[27] Through exaggeration and parody Valenzuela reveals the tragic absurdity of events. Her construction is careful, as she expresses “estoy escribiendo una novela. Mientras navego sólo pesco elementos para enriquecerla: alguna anguila eléctrica, una raya, pira?as, anacondas, los seres letales del fondo de estas aguas transparentes y negras por las que nadie se aventura.”[28] Valenzuela affirms that “hay temas tan dolorosos, tan atroces, que si uno no los trata con humor se convierten en un melodrama.”[29] Allende approaches the themes in a completely different way, and at times, her work can be seen to become slightly melodramatic. Mu?oz makes the observation that “la envoltura sentimental de la novela, la pasión que se desata entre Francisco e Irene, hace más asequible el monstruoso contendio histórico.”[30] Whilst Allende masks the horror with her saccharine story which never truly forces a reader out of his or her comfort zone, Valenzuela creates a deeply disturbing tale where torture, violence and sadomasochistic sexual activities are carefully crafted with aggressive language and where “both the humour and the games are bitter, perhaps even biting decoys or distractions for her deadly, though indeed subtle, attacks.”[31] It has to be argued that Allende’s sentimentalism, at times, undermines her serious political message. How can a reader truly reflect on the distressing nature of exile when the protagonists, Irene and Francisco escape safely across the border on horseback? What Shaw signals as one of Allende’s biggest downfalls is that “in order to get the novel’s message across, the representatives of the oppressed classes and the progressive side must be idealized, while those of the dominant social group, whether passive like Irene’s mother Beatriz, or active like Ramírez, must be vilified […] it tends to trivialize the standpoints of both sides in the social struggle.”[32]

           In Cola de lagartija, this idea of enforcing forgetting is expounded in the Brujo’s explicit statement “cosecharé olvido, entregareme a la no-memoria para que los que pretendan narrarme no me puedan herir.”[15] The writing of history has always been executed by those in power; those who claim to have authority. As Thomas Carlyle’s famous statement reads “the history of the world is but the Biography of great men.”[16] Valenzuela’s novel provides a very interesting exploration into the writing of history, playing with ideas of autobiography, censorship and this ‘great man’ paradigm. A large part of ′Cola′ is put forward as the “diario íntimo”[17] of the Brujo, and is presented as his version of history. He expresses “mi vida y por lo tanto mi diario constituyen una gran novela. La novela. La Biblia.”[18] The delusions of the Brujo, combined with his arrogance, narcissism and intense paranoia all serve to undermine him yet “despite the humour that Valenzuela brings to the description of the Sorcerer’s body, cruelty and evil permeate all aspects of the Sorcerer’s being.”[19] The Brujo is portrayed as controlling what we know, for example, the censoring of the witch Machi, “las cosas que siguió diciéndome […] No pienso repetirlas para no aburrir a nadie, puras mentiras,”[20] is of great significance with regards to the removal of all opinion that is not in keeping with his own. As Magnarelli asserts “the writing of the novel becomes a metaphor for the writing of history and our sacred texts, for the text dramatizes the male character as he arrogantly “plays” at being a god and believes he engenders and controls all when in fact he is inexorably the creation of woman (as is always the case biologically).”[21] It seems incredulous that the Brujo could express “en mis manos está el destino de mi país,”[22] and yet that is, as she says in a statement on her website, what drove her to try to understand: “me asaltó una pregunta: ?por qué los argentinos, supuestamente tan alfabetizados, aggiornados, actuales, pudimos caer en manos de un brujo? José López Rega, Lopecito, el auto de libros de gualichos y hechizos y también el gestor de la Triple A y de todo el horror que había llevado a nuestro país al punto donde se encontraba entonces.”[23] ′Cola′, being a roman à clef, draws on historical figures, for example, José López Rega, whose popular nickname ‘el Brujo’ makes him easy to recognize.

           Violence can be seen as a theme imposed on writers from above, as Valenzuela writes “sabés que la torre de marfil no existe, que es imposible en esta épcoa; sabés y apreciás que para bien o para mal la escritura se va a impregnar de los sucesos de tu entorno.”[33] As Marcelo Cavarozzi writes, in Argentina “politics was reduced to savage confrontations between armed groups and the hunting of defenceless victims; violence became an everyday occurrence.”[34] Describing it as “una de las cosas más misteriosas que tiene el ser humano.” Valenzuela writes of violence that “escribir sobre eso es tratar de entender por qué somos asi, por qué hay ese instinto tan atroz en alguien que normalmente puede ser muy pacífico.”[35] Her writing captures the fear and the horror of living under dictatorship, using the first person plural to place herself amongst those victimized and make the impact more immediate, she writes “ya ni se puede caminar por las calles de la ciudad sin que a cada rato nos aplasten contra una pared y nos palpen de armas. Nos manosean, nos pegotean al cuerpo el olor a miasmas, a plantas en descomposición.”[36] One way in which Valenzuela expresses the horror is through graphic imagery, as Scarry sustains “both weapon and wound may be used associatively to express pain.”[37] An idea that Magnarelli explores in writing, “itself an instrument of torture, the whip is an effective trope which evokes the torture and terror of the era described in the novel and the attendant abuse of power.”[38] She also comments on the fact that the lizard’s tail is an effective metaphor for conveying the continual cycle of violence, writing “like a scepter, the whip becomes a symbol of that power, a metonymy, which may by broken or overthrown temporarily but which seems to regenerate spontaneously, as does the lizard’s tail.”[39] The hallucinations of the Brujo whilst he is supposedly gestating his child are graphic and disturbing, he sees a number of his torture victims: “a aquél le hice arrancar las u?as y después le hice amputar las manos y ahora me amenaza con los mu?ones como si fueran pu?os. A aquélla yo mismo le metí el ratón en la vagina para que se la fuera royendo despacito y ahora es ese hueco negro, enorme, como una boca que intenta devorarme.”[40] The Brujo is often seen to obtain pleasure from torturing others. As Shaw comments, “a major feature of Valenzuela’s literary personality is her adoption of the idea that the writer, like the psychologist, should try to raise the threshold of awareness of repressed aspects of human behaviour, in the hope that they will thus be exorcised.”[41]

           Commenting on experimental fiction, Catherine Davies argues that “As political texts […] it could be argued that these allegories would only work with highly literate readers who are able to interpret such “writerly” novels.”[42] However, it could be argued that the simplification of events, although more readily accessible to a wider audience, actually detracts from the true horror of events. Whilst Allende masks the horror Valenzuela actively employs it, using aggressive language and distressing imagery to really capture the barbarity of events. Her fragmented and often unclear sections of text work to destabilize her narrative and capture the idea that nothing was stable or reliable, but rather it was confused and unsettling. Her techniques work to disorient a reader and she presents multiple voices; the torturer, the people and her own. Her investigation into the past explores the idea of the military using the Brujo to mask their own involvement in the violence, she also explores the reaction of the people and the refuge they take in cults and superstitious activities, declaring “la superstición tiene por nombre miedo.”[43]

[1] Smith, Sidonie and Wastson, Julia. Reading autobiography : a guide for interpreting life narratives. p.24

[2] Valenzuela, Luisa. Peque?o Manifiesto. p.5

[3] Franco, Jean. The Decline and Fall of the Lettered City: Latin America in the Cold War. p238

[4] Valenzuela, Luisa. A legacy of poets and cannibals: literature revives in Argentina.

[5] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.213

[6] Ibid. p.253

[7] Riquelme Rojas, Sonia and Aguirre Rehbein, Edna (eds.) Critical approaches to Isabel Allende’s novels. p.61

[8] Allende, Isabel. La magia de las palabras. p.451

[9] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p253

[10] Ibid. p.252

[11] Ibid. p.253

[12] Ibid.

[13]Allende, Isabel. La magia de las palabras. p.451

[14] Levine, Linda Gould. Isabel Allende. p.54

[15] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.219

[16] Carlyle, Thomas. Heroes, Hero-worship and the Heroic in History. p.26

[17] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.47

[18] Ibid.

[19] Christoph, Nancy. Bodily Matters: The Female Grotesque in Luisa Valenzuela’s “Cola de lagartija”. p.373

[20] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.67

[21] Magnarelli p.161

[22] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.57

[23] Valenzuela, Luisa. “Presentación.” www.luisavalenzuela.com. Web accessed 15/04/2012

[24] Scarry, Elaine. The Body in Pain. p.4

[25] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.8

[26] Ibid. p.8

[27] Ibid.

[28] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.47

[29] Ordo?ez, Montserrat. Máscaras de espejos, un juego especular. Entrevista-asociaciones con la escritora argentina luisa Valenzuela.

[30] Riquelme Rojas, Sonia and Aguirre Rehbein, Edna (eds.) Critical approaches to Isabel Allende’s novels. p65

[31] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p.4

[32] Shaw, Donald Leslie. The post-boom in Spanish American fiction. p.62

[33] Burgos, Fernando, Valenzuela, Luisa. Literatura a orillas del Mississippi: Diálogo con Luisa Valenzuela

[34] O’Donnell, Guillermo, Schmitter, Phillippe C., Whitehead, Laurence (eds.) Transitions from authoritarian rule: Latin America. p42

[35] Ordo?ez, Montserrat. Máscaras de espejos, un juego especular. Entrevista-asociaciones con la escritora argentina luisa Valenzuela.

[36] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.69

[37] Scarry, Elaine. The Body in Pain. p.16

[38] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. 143

[39] Ibid.

[40] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.245

[41] Shaw, Donald Leslie. The post-boom in Spanish American fiction. p.95

[42]Davies, Catherine. Woman as Witness: Essays on Testimonial Literature by Latin American Women. p.858

[43] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p. 69

[1] Valenzuela, Luisa. A legacy of poets and cannibals: literature revives in Argentina.

[2] Shaw, Donald Leslie. The post-boom in Spanish American fiction. p.15

How does each text tackle questions of authority, censorship and the deconstruction of political discourse?

           One of the most sinister aspects of the military dictatorships was the secrecy. The state of terror and the constant threat of violence invaded all areas of society preventing any possible tranquility of existence. Speaking of this furtiveness, Valenzuela says in an interview, “cuando las Fuerzas Armadas toman el poder y entra la primera junta militar…deja de hacerse visible esa violencia feroz que se veía en las calles de Buenos Aires entre 1974 y 1975. En su lugar se instala […] una violencia subterránea infinitamente más peligrosa.”[2] The invisibility of censorship and torture which is perhaps most emblematic in the fact that a person could just ‘disappear’ makes the act of unveiling central to both Allende and Valenzuela. The effect of the dominating fear was to silence the people, as Valenzuela goes on to say “ya se estaba empezando a cerrar los oídos al horror, ya se había instalado entre la gente una negación casi freudiana.”[3] This ‘denial’ of sorts and the fact that after the ‘disappearance’ of someone “mucha gente decía frases del tipo: por algo será, algo habrá hecho. O bien decían “Acá no pasa nada,” is exactly what Valenzuela fights against, perhaps most obviously expressed in the title of her collection of stories ′Aquí pasan cosas raras′, a deliberate reversal of a phrase that symbolized a seeming acceptance of the situation. Allende attacks this resolute denial through her character Beatriz whose active effort to remain in a state of ignorance is criticised throughout the novel.

           The relationship between authority and discourse is a very interesting one. The use of language to control and manipulate is one of the most fundamental issues underlying any relationship; be it literary, political or sexual. For ruler just as for writer there is always a fundamental preoccupation with language, and perhaps that is why literature that analyses the use of discourse to control is so pertinent. All discourse is dependent upon interpretation, yet when the freedom to construct one’s own meaning is removed, when freedom of speech is eliminated and there becomes only one ‘official’ version, that is when literature provides the field for exploration. As Mary Beth Tierney-Tello expresses “the multifarious coherence of art and literature, always provisional and never final, is nothing like the type of coherence sought after by authoritarian regimes… Literature is thus where this authoritarian single-mindedness can be perhaps most effectively confronted and dismantled.[1] The act of writing itself, although driven underground at times of authoritarian rule, constitutes an act of freedom and resistance. Whether continued in secret or in exile, literature documents what was officially denied and can be seen to express what once was silenced.

           In both Chile and Argentina the state was attempting to invade the most private sphere of all: the mind. This idea is conveyed in ′Cola′ through Valenzuela’s metafictional literary character ‘Luisa Valenzuela’ whose ongoing discussion throughout the novel revolves around her constant questioning of the use of her writing, of the power of the Brujo, and of the corresponding relationship between his power and her writing “ya ve extendiendo sus límites y espera invadirnos a todos después de haberme invadido a mí en mi reino, el imaginario. Porque ahora sé que él también está escribiendo una novela que se superpone a ésta y es capaz de anularla.”[4] As a writer living under dictatorship, Valenzuela’s character portrays the pervading feeling of impotence in the face of such trauma and the psychological effects of such fear. As Jean Franco states “the problem of dictatorship and oppression is much wider than the immediate physical consequences. The writer suffers from the much slower torments of frustration, lack of freedom to write as he wishes, and a crushing intellectual environment.”[5] In this way, the character ‘Luisa Valenzuela’ enables her to give an account which, expressed in the first person, takes on a sort of autobiographical testimony. The proximity of her first-person narrative to the violence and her, at times frenzied discourse, solicits a much more powerful reaction than Allende’s ′De amor′, for whilst Allende’s story is concerned with themes of violence, disappearance and dictatorship, it lacks the disquieting effect that Valenzuela achieves when she asserts “mis amigos asilados – ya suman 11.”[6] Through the blurring of boundaries and the blending of fiction with reality ‘Luisa Valenzuela’ struggles to write the Brujo, asking “?Cómo voy a poder inventar a alguien tan despiadado?”[7] She also becomes concerned that her writing is what allows him to gain further power. However, when her character does stop, with the dramatic “Chau, brujo, felice morte,”[8] after which Valenzeula includes her signature in the text, the Brujo still continues. As Nancy Cristoph confirms “The message to the reader seems an obvious one: not to speak about an evil does not eliminate the evil; one must continue to denounce injustices and speak the truth.”[9]

           Metafiction becomes a powerful tool as it allows her to immerse herself in the debate, expressing her guilt, her terror and her sense of helplessness: “ponerse a escribir cuando por ahí, quizás al lado, a un paso no más, están torturando, matando, y una apenas escribiendo como única posibilidad de contraataque, qué ironía, qué inutilidad. Qué dolor sobre todo. Si al detener mi mano pudiera detener otras manos. Si mi parálisis fuese al menos un poco contagiosa pero no, yo me detengo y los otros siguen implacables.[10] Whilst the journalistic activities of Allende’s character Irene are shown to have the definite positive results in exposing the horror of the Chilean dictatorship and sullying the General’s reputation overseas, Valenzuela is left to openly express her concerns that her literary efforts may be ultimately useless. Allende promotes a message of hope and optimism, whilst Valenzuela’s final comment in Cola is decidedly pessimistic, “las tiranías ya no vienen como antes. Ahora tienen piezas de repuesto. Un presidente cae y otro ya está listo para reemplazarlo . Generales no nos faltan.”[11] Her message is not, however, one of total pessimism, as she shows in the statement: “planto bandera, planto el lápiz, planto la palabra escrita y quizás algún día todo esto sirva de semilla,”[12] revealing the import that she places on the written word. Whilst her sense of hopelessness can be seen to reflect her frustration, ultimately it is in literature where an attempt to make sense of the situation can begin, as she expresses “many recent novels have feasted on the country’s history, very freely fictionalized. These novels not only work as antidotes for the official history texts – so manicured and antiseptic – but also as tools for understanding what has happened.”[13]

           ′Cola′ is an exploration into the language of power. The novel is an open attack on political discourse and the lies that are employed to manipulate and control. The Brujo being “not only a politician but also, although not coincidentally, a writer, a manipulator of language,”[14] is a character she uses to expose the unreliability of discourse. Through exaggeration and parody, Valenzuela exposes the ridiculous in the nature of authoritarian rule. Her exploration stems from an inability to comprehend how the political situation spiraled out of control in Argentina, her apparent frustration is reflected in the comment, “no tenía por qué ocurrirnos a nosotros. Un pueblo alfabetizado, brillante, trabajador, pacífico.”[15] Essentially, this is also one of Allende’s objectives. Her text explores the lies that were spun in order to keep control of a nation; the threat of a Communist revolution that supposedly lay behind the military uprising of 1973 and the continued fight against “el cáncer marxista,”[16] combined with the belief, expressed by Beatriz, “la democracia conduce al caos, así lo ha dicho mil veces el General,”[17] which shows the way the public regurgitated what they were told. Franco draws attention to the effect that the threat of ‘disappearance‘ was meant to have on the nation, writing “the appearance of mutilated, anonymous bodies in public places served to silence the population while “disappearance” being less explicit than death was meant to create in families and neighbours a sense of dependence on the state as the source of truth.”[18]

           The takeover of the newspaper ‘La Voz,’ whose illustrative name change from “la Voz del Pueblo de Capivarí,”[19] symbolically portrays the taking away of the voice of the people. The newspaper becomes “el vocero del amo, su tribuna de doctrinas.”[20] This is a reflection of the removal of the freedom of speech. Censorship dominates both texts, reflecting its overpowering influence on a writer. The newspaper for which Irene works has changed “debido a la censura de los últimos a?os, ponían parches negros sobre los senos desnudos y empleaban eufemismos para designar conceptos prohibidos, como aborto, culo y libertad.”[21] Words and their connotations are constantly explored by both Valenzuela and Allende, comically, Beatriz is forced to refer to Francisco as “colega” due to the fact that she is “incapaz de soportar las implicaciones revolucionarias de la palabra compa?ero.”[22] Allende’s characters Irene and Francisco are both described as avid readers; reading liberates them and as a result allows them to open their minds and rebel against the system, whilst Beatriz is impounded in her ignorance as she “sólo leía las noticias agradable.”[23] Her active denial of the ‘disappeared’ is a further reiteration of the rumours spread to control the nation: “cuando veía a las mujeres desencajadas desfilando todos los jueves en la plaza, con los retratos de sus familiares prendidos al pecho, decía que eran pagadas por el oro de Moscú.”[24]

           Censorship affects a society in many different ways. Having described it as “a hydra with its many heads,”[25] Valenzuela goes on to explain that aside from state censorship and self-censorship of the writer, it is, in her opinion, censorship on the part of the reader that is most detrimental to a society. She affirms that it is most destructive “when the pressures of a government on a mode of thought prevent people from allowing themselves to think reasonably or even force them to negate reality.”[26] The great focus of her work is the desire to question and explore but not to provide answers. She aims to destabilize accepted beliefs and to present new ways of thinking. Her writing places great import on the active participation of a reader, for whilst “Valenzuela parodies and satirizes the cruelty, self-interest, ignorance, and folly of the military leaders and the hollowness of their nationalistic rhetoric,”[27] she also attacks “the gullibility of the masses.”[28] Writing damningly of Argentina, “país de avestruces, éste, política que solemos imitar metiendo la cabeza en la arena, negando los peligros.”[29] Her discourse is built upon the importance of reading between the lines. Of challenging ideas and not just blindly accepting them: “nuestro deber consiste ahora en desarticular los símbolos e interpretar el discurso inconsciente del gobierno, decodificar el mensaje que nos está transmitiendo a pesar suyo.”[30] Allende also challenges the persistent ignorance of those who “aprendió a no mencionar lo que era mejor no saber.”[31] In an interview with Sharon Magnarelli, Valenzuela proclaims “one must know what is going on; it is the only possibility for change,”[32] thus the responsibility rests not only with the writer but with the reader.

           Both writers set out to explore and undermine the constructed discourse of those in power. They explore relations of power, in which the people are talked of with contempt and always treated with suspicion. There is a great emphasis on the role of the reader and whose awareness should contribute to ultimate change. The act of writing itself is presented as one of the only ways in which freedom is preserved. When ‘Luisa Valenzula’ asks Navoni whether she should abandon the Brujo’s biography, his response is, “ni se te ocurra. Si vamos a permitir que nos castren hasta el punto de no poder escribir – no digo ya publicar – más vale suicidarse.”[33] She represents the dilemma that a writer faces at a time of crisis, the desperation that underlies her discourse is unnerving as she writes: “ya no sé que hacer. Me gustaría meterme en cama por un buen tiempo, desaparecer bajo las mantas, pero la cama es el lugar menos seguro porque en la inmovilidad late el miedo de que tiren la puerta abajo y vengan a buscarme.”[34] The preoccupation with the act of writing in both texts is crucial as both Allende and Valenzuela portray it as being vital in the quest for freedom. A match for the active violence, the resistance provided by literature, “esta forma tan pasiva que es la escritura”[35] is an effective way to dismantle the imposed version of events and to deconstruct “official history […]a narrative of heroes who are not easily dethroned.”[36]

[1] Tierney-Tello, Mary Beth. Allegories of Transgression and Transformation. p.4

[2] Burgos, Fernando, Valenzuela, Luisa. Literatura a orillas del Mississippi: Diálogo con Luisa Valenzuela. p. 212

[3] Ibid. p.207

[4] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.123

[5] Franco, Jean. The Modern Culture of Latin America: Society and the Artist. p.238

[6] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija p.156

[7] Ibid. p.124

[8] Ibid. p.211

[9] Christoph, Nancy. Bodily Matters: The Female Grotesque in Luisa Valenzuela’s “Cola de lagartija.” p. 379

[10] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija p.210

[11] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.259

[12] Ibid. p.211

[13] Valenzuela, Luisa. A legacy of poets and cannibals: literature revives in Argentina.

[14] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p.137

[15] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.20

[16] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.217

[17] Ibid. p.167

[18] Franco, Jean. Critical passions: selected essays. p.31

[19] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.162

[20] Ibid.

[21] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.52

[22] Ibid. p.42

[23] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p. 241

[24] Ibid. p.46

[25] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p.204

[26] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p.205

[27] Shaw, Donald Leslie. The post-boom in Spanish American fiction. p.110

[28] Ibid.

[29] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija p.124

[30] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.53

[31] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p. 232

[32] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p.218

[33] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.126

[34] Ibid. p.172

[35] Ibid. p.211

[36] Franco, Jean. The Decline and Fall of the Lettered City: Latin America in the Cold War. p.236

How does their writing explore ideas of women’s liberation?

           Allende’s protagonist, Irene, can be seen as representative of the change which must take place throughout society; she is the female who moves from being passive to active and through her writing as a journalist, finds a voice. This is comparable to Valenzuela’s short story ′Cuarta versión′ in which the actress Bella undergoes the same transformation. However, Valenzuela uses the traditional love story to intentionally play with “lo que no se dice”[5] and the ever present political/personal meditation, as Magnarelli remarks “the manifest text functions principally as a metaphor or synecdoche and thus the shield behind which is the subtext, the political, is partially hidden.[6] Another clear comparison to make is the stark contrast between Allende’s inherent optimism and Valenzuela’s more subtle pessimism. Irene and Francisco escape into exile, knowing they’ll be fine as long as they have each other, whilst Bella’s fate is to die in the arms of the ambassador with whom she is having an affair. Allende, promoting love above all else, proclaims in her foreword, “se amaron en plenitud, salvándose así de una existencia vulgar.”[7] Allende’s idealism once again undermines a more serious political message and appears weak when compared to Valenzuela’s ruthless examination into the deeper constructs of relationships. Her optimism appears affected and the solidarity she is promoting is too far removed from reality.

           The parallels that can be drawn between the oppression of the people by authoritarian governments and the subjugation that women have endured for centuries under patriarchal rule are evident. As Christina Alberdi articulates, “la historia del patriarcado es la historia de la dominación de la mitad de la sociedad por la otra mitad; es la historia de una ventaja injusta construida socialmente.”[1] In fact, during the military dictatorships of Chile and Argentina the strict enforcement of traditional gender roles and the rigid division of public and private spheres meant that patriarchal values were intensified and a woman’s duty, being “maternal self-sacrifice for the good of the future of the nation”[2] was emphasised, posing yet another obstacle to the slow progress of women’s liberation. Actually, as Tierney-Tello proposes “the appearance of such a strict separation of public and private was a convenient fiction propagated by the authorities in order to better maintain absolute power over both spheres at once.”[3] Despite attempts to keep women out of ‘public’ affairs, it is clear that ultimately they were not successful; this is reflected in the emergence of women’s protest movements and the increase in the number of women writers published, above all in the 1980s, an appearance which Shaw signals to be “perhaps the most significant single feature of the Post-Boom.”[4] The influx of women writers saw a range of techniques employed to take hold of language and deconstruct the discourse that had relegated them to silence and passivity for so many years.

           Whilst Allende provides us with strong, powerful women she actually undermines her feminist message due to the fact that her discourse is still so firmly rooted in essentialism. Her female characters, portrayed as having a supernatural link to mother earth and to their children, also share in a secret “complicidad femenina.”[8] The importance placed on women’s intuition and the things a woman can achieve with the love of a ‘good’ man, could actually be seen to be a negative message for readers, as she continues to place women in the ethereal and mysterious space to which men have relegated them for centuries; in her novels, women are still mythical creatures who look like they’ve just emerged from a fairytale. Francisco’s first impression of Irene is that “la había vislumbrado tal cual era en sus lecturas de la infancia,”[9] later noting, “esa criatura no estaba hecha para las sórdidas realidades.”[10] Another problematic element of Allende’s characterization is expressed by Shaw when, referring to Allende’s “idealized male characters”[11] he points out that “the danger of the simplified whore/madonna dichotomy”[12] can now perhaps be seen to be paralleled in the “simplified macho/antimacho dichotomy.”[13]

           Susanna Reisz, in an essay inspired by her exasperation at Allende’s “insistencia en tanto amor, tanta cocina y tantas actividades tradicionalmente femeninas,”[14] makes the interesting point that perhaps Allende’s novels could be considered as a sort of steppingstone. She writes “me facilitaron la tarea de desaprender la impostada neutralidad genérica con que solía acercarme a la literatura y de reinscribir mi experiencia de mujer en el proceso de lectura [..] Después de haber gozado con sus relatos me pude dar el lujo de reclamar estéticas feministas más radicales.”[15] Radicalisation does lead to a diminuation of readers and perhaps it could be argued that although some of her feminist ideas are questionable, her writing provides many readers with examples of strong women with whom they can relate. However, the problem of creating female characters who are almost overladen with positive attributes, means that she ends up with what Resa Dudovitz terms “el mito de la Supermujer.”[16] Reisz affirms, “casi todas las heroínas de Isabel Allende tienen algo de esta “Superwoman”. Como ella, son fuertes, decididas, capaces de tomar sobre sus espaldas las tareas más pesadas o audaces. Como ella, son sensibles, magnánimas y con una inagotable capacidad de amar. Y como ella, suelen encontrar, después de muchas luchas, al hombre ideal, uno capaz de valorar esas cualidades femeninas superiores y de corresponder afectos con largueza.”[17] Despite their activism, Allende’s women are still very much chained to the kitchen, the “símbolo de la presencia totalitaria del amor materno,”[18] and it is this that means Allende’s feminism must be seen as intermediary. As Swanson remarks, the next stage of feminism “should give way to a more generalized weakening of gender divisions and dissolution of binary distinctions.”[19]

           In ′Cola′, Valenzuela takes up the theme of pregnancy and maternity and, as Nancy Cristoph writes, “plays with the classical patriarchal notion of a grotesquely unstable female body, whose transgressions and alterations of physical limits are unfamiliar to men and traditionally have been described by them as mysterious, chaotic, and monstrous.[20] By making the Brujo the one who impregnates his own testicle, who he maintains is his sister Estrella, Valenzuela “inverts the paradigm so that the text’s principal grotesque body is a male body.”[21] She creates a deluded character who is driven by his desire to reproduce “sin ayuda de mujer alguna”[22]. He wants to create what he calls “la combinación más pura, más perfecta,”[23] yet his fantasies result in nothing more than an unimpressive trickle of blood and his whole deluded venture is shown to result in failure. His ultimate aim is to remove women from the reproductive process, euphorically expressing, “las he erradicado de mi mundo, por osadas, por diminutas y tenaces.”[24] He boasts that his mother was only ever in this world to give birth to him, saying “dicen que mi madre gritó el doble al nacer yo y despué se murió para siempre: no le quedaba otra cosa en este mundo,”[25] a statement that is later followed up by “la gallina nunca ha sido más que intermediaria y una vez cumplida su misión conviene destruirla.”[26] Valenzuela explores the notion of pregnancy and vulnerability, pushing the boundaries of gender separation, she sees the Brujo become “Le bruj…Ya ni hombre ni mujer [..] no se le puede calificar con género definido alguno y hay que crearle nuevos adjetivos. No neutros porque de neutro nada tiene le Bruj, sino adjetivos ambiguos, mutantes.”[27] Valenzuela has constructed a character who is so warped with arrogance that he believes that he can reproduce alone, however, ultimately he delivers nothing.

           In the description of the first sexual explorations of the sorcerer with Seisdedos, who he suspects “era hija de su propio hermano,”[28] he reflects, “sentía que me faltaba un dedo para hacerla de verdad dichosa,”[29] revealing his underlying feelings of inferiority. In his homosexual relationship with el Garza, a man who is ultimately a sexual slave after he is ‘cleansed of his name’[30] and made his aide-de-camp, the Brujo is also never seen to achieve pleasure. He is always left with “un deseo insatisfecho, un cabo sin atar.”[31] The castrated Garza can never satisfy his desires, as the Brujo bitterly remarks “quiero un perro bien puesto, dispuesto, un perro enhiesto.”[32] However, Valenzuela has the Brujo announce that “los placeres de la carne son accesorios en relación con los placeros del poder, lo único que importa.”[33] It could be argued that his desire for power perhaps stems from his early feelings of inadequacy and his eternal wanting. He brags “mis guainas me obedecerán sin límite,”[34] but this is only true whilst he uses fear and the whip to control them; when Garza takes control of them they are “encantadas de que no fuera el Se?or, de que fuera mucho más joven y mucho menos cruel,”[35] showing that it is not loyalty that makes them obey him without limit but rather that his violent methods of control that are effective. Both texts contain an account of rape seen through male eyes. Rape being an interesting area of exploration given it can be seen as the ultimate symbol of male domination over woman. For Valenzuela, the Brujo’s portrayal of the rape of Do?a Rosa serves to increase his depraved and sadistic nature. The violent event, after which Do?a Rosa “parecía rota,”[36] arouses the Brujo and he “so?aba que volvían esos caranchos. Era un sue?o excitante.”[37] In ′De amor′, Sargento Faustino Rivera, describing what he imagines happened to Evangelina Ranquileo, tells Irene that Teniente Ramírez would have raped her “recuperando así el orgullo de macho que ella le arrebató ese domingo en el patio de su casa.”[38] Despite often being portrayed in quite a favourable light, here Allende writes that whilst recounting the rape and death of Evangelina, Rivera “sintió un calor conocido entre las piernas y respiró agitadamente, se rió socarrón, qué bestia soy murmuró.”[39]

           What is striking about Valenzuela’s feminism is the aggression with which she deconstructs the male-domination of language. She embraces the darker side of language, filling ′Cola′ with expletives, rejecting the traditional idea that women “no podían decir esas cosas.”[40] In her essay ′La mala palabra′ she praises “las palabrotas. ésas tan sabrosas al paladar, que llenan la boca. Palabrotas. Las que nos descargan de todo el horror contenido en un cerebro a punto ya de estallar. Hay palabras catárticas, momentos del decir que deberían ser inalienables y nos fueron alienados desde siempre.”[41] Valenzuela’s feminism propagates the idea that women are now able to express themselves and that being a female writer today means excavating and experimenting with what was previously out of bounds. She effectively achieves liberation, as Stephen Hart expresses “the work of [… ] Luisa Valenzuela […] embodies a gender-specific writing through the metaphor of linguistic birthing. The feminary has finally come of age.”[42] She is not denying that there is a difference between the writing of men and women, but rather encouraging the exploration of it, writing “como bien se?alo Margo Glantz, la boca era y sigue siendo el hueco más amenazador del cuerpo femenino: puede eventualmente decir lo que no debe ser dicho, revelar el oscuro deseo, desencadenar las diferencias devastadoras que subvierten el cómodo esquema del discurso falogocéntrico, el muy paternalista.[43] Whilst Allende’s characters are still reacting to the fact that men shouldn’t swear in front of their wives, Valenzuela has taken language into her own hands.

           The fictional incarnation of Luisa Valenzuela, “Rulitos” is sexually manipulated by Navoni. Juan Pablo Dabove argues, “como todos los nombres de la novela, “Navoni” es más que un nombre propio. En Argentina, “nabo” es uno de los eufemismos para “pene” y también es un sinónimo familiar de “tonto”. Navoni, entonces, conjuga en su nombre el doble sentido de tontería y masculinidad, asociada al uso del conocimiento y a una errada concepción de la política.”[44] The way in which he exerts power over her is through their sexual relationship, “acabamos en la cama …muy buena fórmula aunque poco estable.”[45] Valenzuela follows up that statement with the biting remark, “nuestro encantador héroe – encantador cuando está en posición horizontal, la verticalidad (y en una de esas también el verticalismo) lo endurece.”[46] She admits that his visit is immediately suspect, “no cayendo del todo en su trampa: ?hacerles falta yo, para qué?[47] As Magnarelli writes of ′Cambio de armas′, in a statement that could be equally applied to the relationship of Navoni and Rulitos, Valenzuela “suggests that in life we allow ourselves to be seduced by our interpersonal, erotic, love relationships as we fail to recognize that these, too, can be mere distraction, products of and for androcentric politics, so that we do not focus on the power relationships implicit in them.”[48]

           Both Valenzuela and Allende explore the concepts of power and control that underlie relationships at all levels. In women’s writing that focuses on the abuse of political power under dictatorship, we can see that a comparison is made between political and personal relationships and the way in which men have dominated all areas of society, eloquently expressed by Perricone when she writes, “patriarchy is more than an externally imposed construct to establish law and maintain order in society: it is a pervasive ideology affecting relationships at large.”[49] This becomes of great significance with regards to the Latin American literary canon and the marked absence of women writers. As Tierney-Tello comments “one gender undeniably has a privileged relationship to the production of meaning.”[50] However, the Post-Boom and the unprecedented increase in women writers being published meant, as Luisa Valenzuela expressed in an interview in 1985, “es un momento maravilloso para la mujer escritora: estamos renaciendo y rompiendo el lenguaje colonizado por el hombre.”[51]

[1] Freixas, Laura (ed). Ser mujer. p.220

[2] Tierney-Tello, Mary Beth. Allegories of Transgression and Transformation. p.6

[3] Ibid. p.2

[4] Shaw, Donald Leslie. The post-boom in Spanish American fiction. p.71

[5] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cambio de armas. p.22

[6] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p.191

[7] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.10

[8] Ibid. p.108

[9] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.52

[10] Ibid. p.78

[11] Shaw, Donald Leslie. The post-boom in Spanish American fiction. p.60

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Castro-Klarén, Sara (ed.). Narrativa femenina en América Latina: prácticas y perspectivas teóricas. p.331

[15] Castro-Klarén, Sara (ed.). Narrativa femenina en América Latina: prácticas y perspectivas teóricas p.347

[16] Ibid. p.336

[17] Castro-Klarén, Sara (ed.). Narrativa femenina en América Latina: prácticas y perspectivas teóricas. p.337

[18] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.197

[19] Swanson, Philip. The new novel in Latin America : politics and popular culture after the Boom. p.157

[20] Christoph, Nancy. Bodily Matters: The Female Grotesque in Luisa Valenzuela’s “Cola de lagartija.” p.366

[21] Ibid. p.371

[22] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p. 238

[23] Ibid. p.56

[24] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.14

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid. p.33

[27] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.228

[28] Ibid. p.44

[29] Ibid. p.44

[30] Ibid. p.56

[31] Ibid. p.59

[32] Ibid.

[33] Valenzuela, Luisa. Cola de lagartija. p.57

[34] Ibid. p.55

[35] Ibid. p.139

[36] Ibid. p.40

[37] Ibid.

[38] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.224

[39] Allende, Isabel. De amor y de sombra. p.224

[40] Valenzuela, Luisa. Peligrosas palabras p.37

[41] Ibid.

[42] Hart, Stephen M. Is Women’s Writing in Spanish America Gender-Specific? p.351

[43] Valenzuela, Luisa. Peligrosas palabras p.38

[44]Dabove, Juan Pablo. Claudiciones de la razón letrada y romance nacional totalitario: sobre “Cola de lagartija” de Luisa Valenzuela. p.205

[45] Valenzuela, Luisa. Peligrosas palabras. p.178

[46] Ibid. p.179

[47] Ibid. p.178

[48] Magnarelli, Sharon. Reflections / Refractions : reading Luisa Valenzuela. p191

[49] Perricone, Catherine R. Allende and Valenzuela: Dissecting the Patriarchy. p.84

[50] Tierney-Tello, Mary Beth. Allegories of Transgression and Transformation p.10

[51] Ordo?ez, Montserrat. Máscaras de espejos, un juego especular. Entrevista-asociaciones con la escritora argentina luisa Valenzuela.

Conclusion:

           Both novels set out to undermine the authority of the military dictatorships of Chile and Argentina during the 1970s and 80s and can therefore be seen as an active form of resistance. By exposing the myths and lies that were spun to keep control, both writers effectively deconstruct history, exposing the horror and the injustices committed by those who claimed to be saving the countries. Through their writing they prevent forgetting, something especially important in the face of “the amnesia officially imposed by the laws that prevent a settling of accounts with the past.”[1]

The different approaches of the Allende and Valenzuela clearly have very different effects. Whilst Allende’s writing does provide a place where the injustice can be denounced, her sentimentalism detracts from the true horror of the events she is describing. The plot revolves around a heterosexual romance and although her female protagonists may be stronger and more independent than those who came before them, they are far from groundbreaking. By contrast, Valenzuela does not let anything confine her; her innovative techniques and her desire to push boundaries frees her from any of society’s constraints, and as Edward Haworth Hoeppner concludes her “writing shakes the ground from which we typically construct our notions of the self as autonomous, as the occluded and discrete product of gender or society.”[2] She explores the political situation from not only the side of the victim, but from the side of the victimisers, providing an interesting insight into the psychology of both. The absence of the literary mother in terms of literary authority becomes problematic for any female writer, above all for Latin American women writers who follow in the wake of the ‘brotherhood’ that made up the Boom. However, Valenzuela can be seen to take the experimental fiction of the Boom to the next level; rather than reverting back to a simplified portrayal of reality she deliberately applies experimental techniques to politically motivated writing. As Tierney-Tello expresses “the very act of women writing in an ambitiously experimental way […] is a politically significant one, doubly breaking sociosexual taboos in refusing silence and in not writing in a subjectivist “typically feminine” mode.”[3] Valenzuela’s writing is powerful, cutting and is true rebellion against all forms of oppression. With her writing that she goes in to battle, affirming “la novela está hecho para romper viejos moldes a cada paso, a cada vuleta de hoja.[4]

[1] Franco, Jean. The Decline and Fall of the Lettered City: Latin America in the Cold War. 238

[2] Hoeppner, Edward Haworth. The Hand That Mirrors Us: Luisa Valenzuela’s Re-Writing of Lacan’s Theory of Identity. p.9

[3] Tierney-Tello, Mary Beth. Allegories of Transgression and Transformation p.26

[4] Valenzuela, Luisa. Peligrosas palabras. p.54

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