Short stories: how not to despair with the unjust way they are treated in the world of British letters? From their frequent definition in terms of what they are not — a novel — to the reluctance of risk-averse agents and publishers when it comes to pitching or releasing one of these not-novels into the void. The latter tendency is falling out of fashion, thank God (thanks in large part to indie presses).
Coming both literally and literarily from Latin America, these idiosyncrasies have always puzzled me. It is in the short story that our authors excel, and this is a hill I am willing to die on. The form is valued by readers, publishers and critics alike, cherished for its close connection to storytelling as oral tradition, and second to none in the region’s canon. And if I had to choose which books to preserve on a bookshelf of posterity I would salvage this unassuming genre and toss many an oversize novel.1
This is an attempt to pay explicit homage to some of the Latin American short story writers that influenced my own practice, together with others that have caught my attention in recent years. In no way this is an exhaustive list2 — for example there’s a lot of Central and North American (both Mexican and Chicano) literature that I haven’t read yet. Many of these stories have been translated to other languages; others not. But like all literature, these short stories exist in their original language first — it’s up to the reader to either seek for a translation or to learn how to read in Spanish or Portuguese.
1. Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius by Jorge Luis Borges
Published in his Ficciones, few stories better capture the power of writing than this one by Argentina’s most famous literary export. Imaginary lands and imaginary planets, forged volumes of the British Encyclopaedia and forged quotes — a Borgesian favourite — come together in this tale where fiction writes itself into reality; in which one can’t be told from the other.
2. El llano en llamas by Juan Rulfo
Rulfo achieved world fame with his novel Pedro Páramo but his short stories are equally worthy of attention. El llano en llamas, from the homonymous book, perfectly embodies his style: economy of prose, sensorial images that in their attention to nature greatly capture the essence of rural México, characters who seem to exist beyond life and death. Rulfo only published two books in his lifetime but his influence can still be felt.
3. Absit by Angélica Gorodischer
A disturbing tale of perversion and revenge in which a child narrowly escapes abuse by pushing her attacker into a construction site hole. It might sound like a spoiler but this act of karmic justice is just the beginning. That this story explores adults’ capacity for wrong is clear from its opening paragraph. But are children also capable of evil? A dark but satisfying read by an Argentinian short story talent which deserves to be read more widely.
4. El rastro de tu sangre en la nieve by Gabriel García Márquez
Better known for his novel Cien años de soledad, the Colombian García Márquez was also the author of outstanding short stories. In this one, from his book Doce cuentos peregrinos, a wealthy couple on their honeymoon in Europe go through a dramatic, Kafkaesque ordeal, taking the reader on a suffocating journey. Legend has it Borges said that 50 years would have sufficed for Cien años de soledad,3 but not one word is a word too many in this magnificent story.
5. Perfumada noche by Haroldo Conti
A beautiful ode to life, love, and death in a small town in the Province of Buenos Aires. Conti was disappeared by the Argentinian military junta in 1976. Before this tragic end he gifted us in Perfumada noche one of the most evocative opening sentences ever written: “The life of a man is a miserable draft, a handful of sorrows that fit in just a few lines.”
6. A quinta história by Clarice Lispector
Choosing a single story by one of Brazil’s finest writers is a cruel exercise but a great entry point to her work is A quinta história, from her book A legião estrageira. All her most interesting traits are there: a certain linguistic strangeness, the subversion of domestic space, the sadistic brutality of everyday life, and the metafictional bent that would explode in her later works.
7. Carta a una señorita en París by Julio Cortázar
Reading Cortázar’s Bestiario as a teenager was my literary “listening to the Sex Pistols” moment. I devoured the book from cover to cover and ran to my mother’s Olivetti to start churning out my own short stories. Some of these early attempts still exist in my box of memories but needless to say none of them is as good as Carta a una señorita en París. A flat swap starts to go wrong when our hero, who writes the missive of the title, starts vomiting bunnies that proceed to destroy the flat. Sounds strange? Welcome to Cortázar’s world.
8. Las amapolas también tienen espinas by Pedro Lemebel
Lemebel, is one of Chile’s most singular voices. Gay, mestizo, working class and communist, it would be hard to find a more unlikely survivor of the Pinochet years. His crónicas of the Santiago of the 70s, 80s, and 90s, are brutal yet endearing documents of lives lived in the margins. In this story from his La esquina es mi corazón, Lemebel tells a tale of desire, class and violent homophobia. And he does so endearingly, honestly, and with characteristic dark humour. Lemebel as a transvestite flâneur is an exceptional guide to the Latin American city.
9. Los álamos y el cielo de frente by Margarita García Robayo
Cosas peores by the Colombian García Robayo is a remarkable recent book. A deadpan beat runs through the whole of it — at times you find yourself giggling at things, only to question yourself a second later whether you should really be laughing about that. Los álamos y el cielo de frente is in my opinion where she best displays her craft. In it, romantic and familial unspoken tragedies meet gentrification, to portray a suffocating world of angst and alienation.
10. Hacia al alegre civilización de la capital by Samanta Schweblin
In this story from the understated Pájaros en la boca y otros cuentos we follow the misadventures of a city-dweller stuck in a provincial train station, trying to return to the capital. The apparently simple act of boarding a train is complicated here to an absurd degree. At times Beckettian riff, at times criticism of the state of the Argentinian railways post-neoliberalism, at times commentary on the civilisation v barbarism binary behind Argentinian identity, this is a story that will unsettle and amuse in equal measure.4
Especially many of those written by otherwise excellent short-story writers. Wink wink, Gabo, Julito…
Martín Rejtman, for example, is missing here. But as his films have been as influential for me as his stories, there’s something else going on there, and something that perhaps requires a post of its own.
He was absolutely right.
Adapted from my article for The Guardian, 2020.