The Punished Body: An Interview with Pedro Lemebel

Abstract

32 wlt may / august 2015 A biographical sketch would tell us little or nothing about the writer Roberto Bolaño once called “the greatest poet of his generation.” Why mention that he was a visual artist who, alongside Francisco Casas, founded the collective Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis (The Mares of the Apocalypse), whose performances were legendary . Quicklime burials,1 folkloric dances on glass, naked horseback rides across university campuses: these are the blurred footprints left behind as he galloped through a decade of weeping and disappearances . Why say that he was a rabid leftist to the bone, who dressed in drag more than once so that members of the Manuel Rodríguez Patriotic Front would have a Mary Magdalene to come to their aid in the streets of Santiago de Chile amid the burning smoke of tear-gas bombs. Why reveal that he strolled through cities around the world in high heels proclaiming that “to be poor and queer is worse than anything else.” Why say that he adopted his Q&A The Punished Body An Interview with Pedro Lemebel by John Better Pedro Lemebel is a phenomenon in today’s Latin American literature. I use the term phenomenon in its double meaning: he is an original and noteworthy prose writer and, for his readers, a freak, someone who attracts attention because of his appearance and who rejects normativity. – Carlos Monsiváis worldliteraturetoday.org 33 mother’s surname, Lemebel, out of pride and a sense of solidarity with women, that he was an opening act in a Manu Chao concert, that he strutted insolently through the halls of the Sheraton, whisky in hand, while an embittered Miguel Bosé waited impatiently, amid lights, to meet the myth called Lemebel. Why boast that he won this or that prize, or note that any reporter who interviews him runs the risk of losing a story because the writer is probably in a bad mood and may walk out in the middle of the interview. Reading Pedro Lemebel (1952–2015) is like getting too close to a fire, which in the end won’t burn you because the writer has already put his hands in the flames for us. The proof of his martyrdom lies in his books, La esquina es mi corazón (The corner is my heart), Los incontables (The uncounted), Loco afán: cróncias de sidario (Crazy desire: Chronicles of the Aidsman), De perlas y cicatrices (On pearls and scars), and Adiós mariquita linda (Eng. My Tender Matador), among others.2 His last book, Háblame de amores (Talk to me about love), is a collection of chronicles about those who were fortunate enough to pass through his body and his soul, an amusing book in which he pays a small tribute to Barranquilla in a text entitled “Barranquilla Moon, You Made Me Bleed,” where he relates a night of revelry during which he competed with Fernando Vallejo for the affection of an ephebe.3 After rejecting dozens of invitations to literary gatherings and interview requests from international media, the most acerbic chronicler of Latin America sat down for this interview, one of the last he gave, to talk about his early years, Vallejo, Chile today, and, of course, his loves. John Better: Why does Lemebel hate interviews ? Do you have something against journalists, prima?4 Pedro Lemebel: I hate that cruel question, which is always answered on the downcast face of the queer being interrogated. I detest the obviousness of interviews because there’s a hint of superiority in the person asking the question; the journalist judge, the journalist inquisitor—there is something horrible about having to testify in the trial of your life, where you’re under suspicion of being who you are and guilty of daring to reaffirm it. JB: The early years of your life were very hard. Do you think about them often? PL: Minority biography is tricky, it always puts you in that gaunt and Christian place. There wasn’t that much drama, a few scratches, that’s all; when I was a tyke I did okay. Literature puts a dramatic veil on biography; in the end, it’s a matter of marketing and homotheatricality. I...