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    Manuel Puig and the Uses of NostalgiaAuthor(s): David William FosterSource: Latin American Literary Review, Vol. 1, No. 1 (Fall, 1972), pp. 79-81Published by: Latin American Literary Review

    Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20118852Accessed: 11/05/2009 16:37

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    MANUEL PUIG AND THE USES OF NOSTALGIA

    Estern society is possessed, at the present moment, ofa sort of wave

    of nostalgia, with particular focus on the pre-War years of the thirties.

    Argentina, althoughthe War itself

    providedmore of a subtle

    pointof social

    and economic demarcation (the rise of Peronism in the mid-fortieswas more

    noticeably cataclysmic), has partaken of thiswave of nostalgia. Indeed, one

    could undertake a revealing bibliographic survey of the publications duringthe last five years or so on the tango, or on Buenos Aires caf?-and bar

    society of the period in question. Of course, that the presidency of JuanPer?n, provided

    a watershed for Argentine society and culture has intensified

    even more the sense of loss vis-?-vis the thirties and the early forties. Is not

    the imminent resurgence of Peronism in Argentina, as the military government prepares for promised free and open elections in 1973, itself one facetof

    nostalgia? Althoughit has not

    widelybeen

    noticed,even the Buenos

    Aires of Julio Cort?zar's Hopscotch hasan antediluvian aura about it, includ

    ing the colloquialism of the language, which some hasty critics wanted tosee merely as the Paris-based author's loss of touch with the Buenos Aires

    slang of today.1 Sharing this preoccupation with a by-gone Buenos Aires,whose influence was felt throughout the country, is Manuel Puig, a youngnovelist whose talents have ranked him with Cort?zar.

    Puig's first novel, La traici?n de Rita Hayworth [Betrayed by Rita

    Hayworth] (1968),2 has been hailed by Rodriguez Monegal as one of themost important Latin-American novels of the sixties.3 Now the Argentine

    has published a second novel, Bo quit as pintadas [Painted Little Mouths](I969).4 Despite its superficial catchiness, the novel represents an intriguingfollow-up of Puig's qualities

    as a novelist demonstrated in the earlier work.

    Subtitled a follet?n (i.e., pamphlet; the reference to the late-nineteenth cen

    tury practice of publishinga novel serially, one chapter at a time), the

    work as a whole reads like the all-too-familiar script of a serialized soap

    w

    1 Emir Rodr?guez Monegal mentions the deliberate presentation of a thirties andforties aura for the novel in his discussion of a novel by Guillermo Cabrera Infante,

    Estructura y significaci?n de Tres tristes tigres, Sur, No. 320 (1969), 38-51.2 Buenos Aires:Jorge Alvarez,

    1968. TheEnglish translation,

    doneby

    Suzanne

    Jill Levine, was published by Dutton in 1971.3See, for example, his comments in The New Latin American Novel, Books

    Abroad, 44 (1970), 45-50; pp. 49-50 in particular.* Buenos Aires: Sudamericana, 1969. Four editions of the novel were publishedin 1969 alone, and two more had been published by April 1970.

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    80 LATIN AMERICAN LITERARY REVIEW

    opera of the thirties and forties era. In addition, each chapter is headed bya

    prominent quotefrom one of the

    hoary tangos byAlfredo Le Pera associat

    ed with that pop figure par excellence, Carlos Gardel (whose works, of

    course, have also enjoyed a profitable nostalgic renaissance). Thus, thesur

    face of the work?the narrative proper?is concerned with the gray anguishof the Argentine lower-middle classes, with the trivial emptiness of routine

    existence, with the pitiful attempts by individuals to achievesome level of

    emotional satisfaction. These are, to be sure, many of the dominant concerns

    of the tangos of the period; hence the propriety of the Le Pera quotes.5 As

    Puig affirms ina blurb, his novel is insistently popular, and in general one

    can easily see it as accessible to a spectrum of readers beyond the sophisticates who can be the

    onlyaudience of a

    VargasLlosa.

    However, if we examine more closely what Puig may be attempting to

    do, we find that, beginning with the almost de riguer fragmentation ofnar

    rative chronology, his focus is decidedly anti-psychological, anti-personalityautonomy, and anti-naturalistic (despite

    a certain amount of verisimilitude

    of tone and language). In the contemporary Latin-American novel, whetherone confronts the exuberant fantasies of Garc?a M?rquez

    or the depressinglyhumorless mythographies of Vargas Llosa, he cannot escape the realization

    of the new-novel dictum that individuals as such are insignificant, that

    human personalityas an abstract generality must be the stuff of the novel

    because it alone provides the opportunity to say?and to perceive?somethinguniversally valid concerning the subliminal, unknown human experience. Nor

    mal human contemplation cannot provideaccess to such levels, and it is

    just such an access which the anti-personalist novel is styled to provide (like,say, Julio Cort?zar's 62, modelo para armar [62, Model for Assembly]

    (1968). In thecase of Puig's narrative, narrative chronology from the outset

    confuses and blurs the lines of autonomy. The bleak uniformity of tone in

    the portrayal of human emotions,no matter how they are dressed up super

    ficially in terms of moral good and evil, contributes strikingly to the presence of an experience rather than the multiplicity of conflicting and comple

    menting, interacting and growing personalities of a more naturalistic fiction.In one sense, Puig's novel is the'validation of a popular suspicion that

    the scandalous successes of the soap opera derive, not from the baseness of

    taste to which it appeals, but from the fundamental validity of a uniform

    humanity upon which its scripts are predicated. Of course, Puig hassome way

    to go in order to defend his novel against those guardians of the virtue of

    the modern novel who would insist that it must be difficult and inaccessible

    to all but the most intense of readers, that it must, in short, be self-consciouslya work of art in the best of the vanguard tradition (like Jos? Donoso's fas

    cinatingly experimental,but in the end

    monumentally boring,novel, El obs

    5 See a recent sociological study of the themes of the tango by Dar?o Cant?n,El mundo de los tangos de Gar del (Buenos Aires: Instituto Torcuato Di Tella, Centrode Investigaciones Sociales, 1969) (Documento de Trabajo, no. 60). This was originally published in the Revista latinoamericana de sociolog?a, 68, 3 (1969).

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    MANUEL PUIG AND THE USES OF NOSTALGIA 81

    ceno p?jaro de la noche [The Obscene Bird of Night] (1970). On the other

    hand, Puig'swork is

    inescapably interesting.Like the

    tango,it is unashamed

    ly sentimental, but with a sentimentality that is presented from the cold,cruel point of view of one who knows that it is

    a pathetic defense mechanism

    against some basic human truths. For one example, the story of Orpheuswould have made a good tango,6 and in the focus of both the tango and

    the soap opera, as seen in Boquitas pintadas, and inan interpretive recrea

    tion of those basic human truths, it would be absurd to deny that we are

    not in the presence of one modern manifestation of myth. Of course, any

    putative simplicity about the novel is both deceptive and illusory. The complexnarrative line, a form of narrative parataxis which goes beyond the multiplebut facile narrative threads of the

    sprawling soap operaor the novel of

    panoramic realism, reinforces, to be sure, the sense of mythic proportionsthat go beyond the gray misery of individual destinies. But at the same time,

    no matter how popular or proletarian the novel may appear to beon

    the surface, the essential and significant inner complexity of Boquitas pintadas, like that of La traici?n de Rita Hayworth, bespeaks the true artistic

    dimensions of Puig's novel.

    Arizona State University

    DAVID WILLIAM FOSTER

    6 The Orpheus story has indeed recently been worked up into a novelette withinthe tango-like context of early twentieth-century northern Buenos Aires. See the title

    story of Humberto Costantini, Hahlenme de Funes (Buenos Aires: Sudamericana,1970).