Uruguay and neighbor Argentina routinely boast the highest adult literacy rates in Latin America, around 98%. Behind the statistic lie the tables after tables of books at Montevideo’s Sunday market, itself on a street lined with antique shops and used bookstores; behind the statistic wait the thousands of people who visit Buenos Aires’ Feria del Libro every year, waiting in line to buy tickets to hear authors and…buy books.
Latin American literature frequently becomes abbreviated to Gabriel García Marquéz, Jorge Luís Borges, and Magic Realism. In reality, the palette of authors in the 20th century alone is much more variegated, and their interaction with the ups and downs of their homelands oftentimes complex. During the authoritarian dictatorships of the 70s and 80s, for example, many authors went into exile. From France, Spain, the United States and elsewhere, they could operate outside of the revisionist nationalistic narrative the dictatorships were creating, and thereby, in the words of critic Raúl Silva-Cáceres, challenge “the lie of history with the truth of fiction.” Which is just to say, literature matters (not only in times of trauma), and sometimes delivers more truths about a place or time than non-fiction can. Also, browsing through the Clásicos Uruguayos section of the Biblioteca Artigas (register and you can access their book scans for free!) is a great break from reading about aquifer recharge rates.
On my physical bookshelf recently:
Mario Benedetti’s Montevideanos (1959) and La tregua (1960): I’m told its fashionable to rag on Benedetti these days – and then I’m told I should read his work anyway. These short works capture the melancholy and vibrancy that are woven into Montevideo’s bones. Chances of finding Benedetti in translation are better than for most other Uruguayan authors.
Christina Peri Rossi’s La tarde del dinosaurio (1976): Written while Peri Rossi was in exile in Spain, these short stories range from seaside chats to unrequited love on the moon- at least on the surface.
Marío Levrero’s El discurso vacío (1996). Through his daily penmanship practice, a writer’s chronicle of his routine give insight into deeper musings on life and purpose.
Dani Umpi’s Miss Tacuarembó (2005). For something completely different, musician – artist Umpi’s novel was recently turned into an infectious yet utterly irreverent movie. Natalia and Carlos are two precocious dreamers who yearn to escape small-town life – only to find it catch up with them at the Christian amusement park where they work.
Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog. For more recommended reading, check out “Hunting for Inspiration: Recommended Reading” by Roxanne Krystalli and “Reading List” by Meg Gray.
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