The writer has a fundamental duty to make literature, with all that this entails: to be honest with the reader, to treat him or her without paternalism or compassion. And it is from that ethical commitment, from that respect, from which the narrator of “Curve Dock” (Susa), new compilation of unpublished stories by the writer Uxue Apaolaza (Hernani, 1981).
Without fanfare, but relentless, the writer strikes incessantly using middle-class protagonists who walk through the wire of precariousness those weak armor that we create around us, and she does so without avoiding our inherent contradictions; Furthermore, it uncompromisingly points out those contradictions, opening the door to reflection for the reader.
They pass through these pages drenched in irony, processionaries, beggars, captors of all kinds -even hunters of a little happiness-, slaves of their fears (who is not?), Strangers, survivors and explorers in search of a story or memory. surely foolish to protect them a little from the incessant and daily barrage of misery. Do not expect easy caresses in these stories; Unlike the cowards, the wicked and the stupid, these stories, this manifesto against certainties, remind us of the fragility of the threads that sustain us, just like good friends.
We have spoken with Apaolaza about his book.
You return to the stories after publishing the novel “Mea culpa”. Is it your favorite literary territory?
Yes, stories are the genre that stimulates me the most, without a doubt. I don’t know exactly if that’s why, but I would say that what brings me to the stories is the possibility of starting from elements of a brief moment that could remain a simple anecdote and create an artifice with greater depth; or, on the contrary, to see how the elements of an instant that could be an anecdote reveal different power relations, tendencies, contradictions …
Perhaps it is also my rhythm of life. The story is easier to transport in the memory when you walk from here to there. And it is not as possessive as the novel.
The nine stories that make up “Bihurguneko nasa” have been elaborated separately during the last ten years. When reviewing them for editing, have you seen big differences between them?
The truth is that I have found differences, but not in a chronological sense: in the stories you could see what obsessed me at all times.
What elements do you think give unity to the whole? Has there been a lot of rewriting to unify the stories? In some stories there are winks towards others …
They are united by the narrator, the city and a look that is certainly not very stable, it feels strange in the street, at home, with friends, with family, with herself …
There is a lot of rewriting work, but not so much for that work of unifying. I have worked each of the stories separately, although in some I have changed the narrator to put it in the book. The rewritings are in themselves the process of creating a story, it is in the rewritings where new paths are opened. For me, writing a story is rewriting the first draft over and over again.
The winks between different stories came later, almost at the end, and many “asked me” the texts themselves once arranged next to each other.
‘Bend Dock’
The narrator speaks from you to you to the implicit reader, honestly, and sometimes even addresses him directly in the text. Who do you imagine on the other side of the paper or screen while you write?
It depends on the moment. Sometimes he is a very intelligent and wise person who criticizes me for everything; other times, he is an accomplice who understands everything I write. But he is always much smarter than me.
Some characters in the book seek refuge in memories and stories. To what extent are we what we ourselves and others tell about us?
What they say about us is not anecdotal, it is not a simple gossip, and neither is what we tell.
That story is told by society, it is told by power in a thousand different ways, and it is very clear to you which version of yours should be released.
The book demolishes or at least hits with the force of language that refuge that they call or call “normality”. The book shows a desire to shake reality and offer a new perspective … Does literature exist outside of that?
Oh yeah, there is a lot of such literature. In addition, it is the literature that is read the most, right?
I don’t think there are any new perspectives. Also Lur’s point of view –narrator of the stories– it will have been learned somewhere, it is a concrete reading and mixing of everything read, seen, heard and experienced.
I think that it does offer the point of view of an individual who moves under the collective discourses, under the macrostructures, and does not function well in them. And who does not know how to channel that discomfort. You have to make an effort to adjust, but you only have the strength not to adjust very occasionally, and not much. There is a clash between the collective forces and an individual who wants to rise up under them.
The stories are, of course, fiction, but the protagonist, Lur, is a Basque woman, white, 40 years old and of what is called “middle class”, as you have recognized in several interviews, very similar to you. What limits do you set for yourself as a storyteller?
I have spoken in an interview and in the presentation of the book about the stories as disguise. And there are disguises that we do not put on, consciously and unconsciously. And we do it, for example, because they represent something that we reject without nuance.
For example, lately, talking about the book, I have realized that the protagonist of the harshest manifestations of racism in the book is not Lur, and I think it has something to do with that. I mentioned as a limit not to disguise myself as the victims of my privileges, because there is a good chance that it will be obscene.
Many cultural references appear in the book, including several literary ones: Mrozek, Rosalía de Castro, Paul Auster, Galdós… What does Uxue Apaolaza read? What has caught your attention between your last readings?
Lately, I hardly have time to read. And that lately It refers to since I have been a mother, ha ha ha.
The last thing I read was I don’t know what you’re talking about by Ana Malagon and Even without us scored by Itziar Ugarte. And I have been very lucky to meet them in the little time I have to read. These are two powerful points of view.
What future do you wish for the book?
I wish you to find accomplices. And that is an accomplice, like the books that have been with me.
Mario Twitchell is an accomplished author and journalist, known for his insightful and thought-provoking writing on a wide range of topics including general and opinion. He currently works as a writer at 247 news agency, where he has established himself as a respected voice in the industry.
