Between a Writer And a Reader. (Mario Benedetti and his Truce)
A truce can be many things and hold various definitions. It can refer to different movies, or different books. It can also be an agreeable argument or a necessary measure. Let’s remove any uncertainty of meaning and focus on my favorite Truce, the one between Mario Benedetti and his reader.
Mario Benedetti’s The Truce is a wonderful little novel which is in no part superfluous or deficient. It is a modest and flat story, but also deeply moving. It is simply one of those books you can read in a day because it seems familiar. Like a story from your neighbor, or some hidden diary in the attic. I applaud the simplicity of the narrative and the valuable lessons its dullest moments show to the reader. How exquisitely agonizing it is to love again without restraints. How incredibly meaningless and miserable everything is when you can’t find yourself in the world.
Mario Benedetti was a great writer; he has also been, for many years, my favorite poet. I have rarely seen love described in such a manner: simple yet complex –that is the staple of his work. I fell in love with his words and analogies; with love. There are many other great poets who have affected both the way I think and my writing, but not quite like him. When he died, a common phenomenon took place: his detractors came out of hiding. To this day, the fight between his virtues and faults burns with the unknown, and his readers are left standing in a crossroads. Is what we understand from his literary work the truth? Who was Mario Benedetti behind closed doors?
As one of his readers I also need to occupy my place in the battle, in order to understand the man and his work.
The most significant statements against Mario Benedetti are his unquestionable alliance to the regime of Fidel Castro and his apparent homophobia. He criticized the writers of the Latin American Boom, arguing that they belonged to a privileged class and in no way represented the average Latin-American. He vehemently opposed the political views of Mario Vargas Llosa, Julio Cortázar, Gabriel García Márquez, Carlos Fuentes, and other writers and intellectuals, because of the Cuban Revolution and the imprisonment of Heberto Padilla –the so-called Padilla affair. The 60’s and 70’s were an effervescence of ideological and political ideas, which caused a mixture of opinions and an exchange between writers and thinkers –friends and colleagues would argue over the perceptions and the purpose of literature. When Heberto Padilla went to jail for his lauded poem Fuera de Juego, where he openly criticizes Castro, writers from all over the world, including Jean-Paul Sartre and Juan Rulfo condemned the unfair treatment. The pressure against Fidel Castro’s government was high, so he accused Padilla of being a spy for the CIA –which was later proven to be completely false. The role of Mario Benedetti in such a controversial problem was significant. He collected firms and statements in favor of the Cuban Revolution, and Heberto Padilla had to publicly apologize; hence he was released. Mario Benedetti’s convictions were so strong, he even accomplished to shorten the line of people against the Cuban regime.
Mario Benedetti was, like many of his contemporaries, a conservative. A premise of the Cuban Revolution condemned homosexuality. In an interview with Argentinian journalist Ana Basualdo in the 70’s, Benedetti called all the Cuban exiles “homosexuals and delinquents,” an expression he often used with people whose views he didn’t share and/or simply didn’t like.
In The Truce, the main character Martín Santomé has a homosexual son: Jaime. This is something that fills Martín’s days with grief –he would rather have a thief than a homosexual. Martín also has a new love interest, after many years as a widower: a young colleague, Laura Avellaneda, whom he treats as an object of his satisfaction. Martín Santomé doesn’t know how to love, but he succeeds modestly on his relationship with Avellaneda.
Something curious happened when I read The Truce, a question popped in my head: “Am I misunderstanding the character and his intentions, or is he somehow a bigot?” I may know more about the man behind the writer, but does that change the fact that his work has taught me valuable lessons?
This is an unwanted and unnecessary truce for a man who accomplished many things. How can I hold dear someone who fights against my own ideas? I might have been affected by some of his faults. Seems kafkaesque. But I can’t blame Benedetti’s times, or his ideologies. It is the same passion I love about his work. The honesty and coherence of a fighting man.
Thank you MB.
Text by [Alberto Lizárraga](albertolizarraga.svbtle.com)