Toño Azpilcueta, the protagonist of the new novel by Mario Vargas Llosa (Arequipa, 1936), 'I dedicate my silence' (Alfaguara) - which goes on sale this Thursday - is a gray man who, however, illuminates and redeems his unbridled passion for Peruvian popular music, to the point that, from his amateur position, he dedicates his life to the study of this subject and becomes the greatest expert on the subject. Although he has heard, live and on recordings, all the performers that exist, one night, his life turns upside down when he witnesses the performance of a guitarist as prodigious as he is unknown, Lalo Molfino, whose track, however, he loses. right away. The novel follows Azpilcueta's conscientious investigation of the missing musician, and develops his thesis that it is this musical genre that structures the Peruvian nation, so divided into classes and races. The 2010 Nobel Prize winner - the only one alive in the Spanish language - answers this newspaper's questions in writing from his home in Madrid.
One of the most famous phrases in his novels, if not the most famous ("at what moment did Peru get screwed, Zavalita?"), could have its counterpoint here, since this fiction of his shows just the opposite: at what moment the Peru was able to unite, with that explosion of joy and union between social classes and races that popular music represented. It's an optimistic novel, in that sense, don't you think?
It depends on the point of view from which you look at it. I believed that, in view of what happens to Toño Azpilcueta, his failure from an editorial point of view and the loss of interest in ideals that he was passionate about, the novel had pessimistic edges. But, it depends on which side you choose. It is true that the union between social classes and races that popular music represented is an optimistic vision of Peru, and also a longing. I hope this is the case and all the barriers that exclude and separate equals are torn down.
We learn, by reading him, what the 'huachafería' is, something that would be a mistake to reduce to mere 'cheesiness' since it invests it with a deeper entity. How do we explain to a Spanish reader what it means?
Indeed, huachafería is deeper than kitsch. And it is in the spirit and word of all Peruvians, without exception. It would be necessary to explain to the Spanish that, around certain words, an epidermis has been built that everyone passes through, brushing against it. The explanation is more complicated than the word “huachafa”. It has to do with the cultural and social mix, the miscegenation, a certain middle class that emerges from below and whose tastes permeate the rest.
Toño Azpilcueta is not a good dancer. On the other hand, when you were young, you were part of a folk music group. Could you remind us of that experience: what their mission was, what repertoire they had...?
It was in Madrid in the 1950s. To participate in a contest, some Peruvian friends formed a folkloric group to which a Spanish friend was added. To maintain manners, we forbade him to speak so that his origin would not be discovered. He, very respectful, complied to the letter, although he learned many of our idioms, and, of course, he was mute throughout the entire period of our adventure. We played and danced marineras, resbalosas, huaynitos and zamacuecas and we obtained fourth place which led us to dance and sing in many bullrings in Spain. I sang softly so as not to create chaos with my classmates.
Does the utopia of this novel in which music appears as something that can unite the Peruvian nation bear any similarity to what, in the 60s and 70s, represented the so-called Latin American boom, in this case an imaginary common to an entire nation? continent through literature?
No, it is not related at all. The utopia of this novel, in which music can integrate the Peruvian nation, is a fantasy that could happen in reality if Peruvians were encouraged. Because everyone, whether they are noble or patacalas like me, feels one with the magic of music, that we are part of the same thing, and dancers, of course, and that's how it goes for us. But I do not dare to predict anything, only wish that a union between races is a very real fact. The boom of the novel had a Latin American significance, the idea of Creole music as a social glue has to do specifically with Peru.
Did you meet Chabuca Granda, who appears in the book? How important has she been in his life?
I met Chabuca Granda and we had tea a few times. She was a famous songwriter and singer and of course we respected and loved her. Later, when she began to bring Peruvian music to large auditoriums, I stopped seeing her because we almost never met.
Have you invented the songs that appear in the novel? There are writers, like Patrick Modiano, who have written songs, in his case for Françoise Hardy. Have you ever done it?
I have not invented the songs that appear in the novel. They belong to the richest tradition of our folklore, including those of the Old Guard and others later. They are selected with love and taste to present in the novel a sample of what the delicious Peruvian music contains. I have never composed songs and I am totally indifferent to singing, but I have always liked listening to it.
His character compares the Spanish conquest to the English conquest and concludes that the former had some advantages. Which ones would you highlight?
The English was not a conquest, but an indiscriminate massacre. There were many Peruvians and the Spanish rather tried to exploit them, making them work for them. That created a parasitic class, which we are very sorry exists. But the Spanish conquest was rather benign compared to the English. There were many deaths, of course, but it has always been reflected that some members of the Church, such as Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, and the kings of Spain protected the Indians, and this is an idea that continues to prevail among the Peruvian people.
Do you share Toño Azpilcueta's contradictions about the bullfighting festival?
Yes, I share Toño Azpilcueta's contradictions about the bullfighting festival. I really like bulls, I am a fan and defender of keeping alive this tradition that for me is an art, and I am also aware of how many Andean peoples collected, absorbed in different ways, part of that tradition, but I have also always thought that there are something barbaric that reaches back to the origins of Europe in that festival.
Do you think, like Toño Azpilcueta, that the world is better with religion than without it?
Yes, I think the world is better with religion than without it. Because the vast majority of human beings cannot live without the idea of a paradise and an afterlife. Religion has, when practiced in a non-fanatical way, a civilizing effect on human relationships.
The end of the book is sad, not so much because of the fictional story, which is very funny, but because of the announcement you make in a note: why do you say that this is going to be your last novel? Are your strength failing?
That was a note I made for myself, a thought, and I never intended it to be an advertisement, but they suggested leaving it and that's it. I am 87 years old and, although I am an optimist, I don't think I will live that long to work on a new novel, especially considering that it takes me three or four years to write them. But I will never stop working and I hope the strength will be with me until the end to achieve it. Now I am committed to writing something essayistic about Sartre, who had a lot of influence at a stage in my life.
