Letras Latinas re-connects with Louis Villalba

One of the things I admire about how our current Poet Laureate, Juan Felipe Herrera, is conceptualizing his first term--particularly through his project, La Casa de Colores--is how he is underscoring a kind of democratization of our voices. (Click HERE to access, La Casa de Colores.) The philosophy, as I see it, of his project up at the Library of Congress' website, is that every citizen's voice matters, each capable of enriching us, regardless of where a voice has its point of entry--whether a book published in New York, a posh "literary" publisher in Minneapolis, a micro-press in San Antonio or on the U.S./Mexico border, or the website of the Library of Congress. In other words, to quote a Maria Melendez Kelson poem (I'm paraphrasing here): "Fuck pedigrees."

What I mean is: the pedigrees of publishing. In the wake of Francisco X. Alarcon's death, I've been thinking about this more. His New and Selected Poems, From the Other Side of Night, was published in 2002 with University of Arizona Press. His latest two books, Canto hondo/Deep Song,  and the forthcoming Poetry of Resistence: Voices for Social Justice, an anthology he co-edited, is with Arizona, as well. 

I don't know if he aspired to publish with New York houses, or an Independent publisher with, perhaps, more "pedigree"---it was never anything we spoke about. One of his best selling books, his collection of homoerotic sonnets,  De amor oscuro/Of Dark Love, was published by a micro-press in Santa Cruz, CA called Moving Parts Press.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I'm reminded of the ethos of the hardest working writer I know, Louis Villalba. I wrote about him in a blog post in June of 2014 to preface an interview with him about his first book, a collection of pieces about his native Cádiz in Spain. Click HERE to access that post and interview and more information about him.

Last year, he put out into the world his first novel, The Stranger's Enigma, of which the Kirkus Reviews said: 

"A provocative character study...Villalba has a vivid imagination." 

Letras Latinas associate Roberto Cruz ('17) once again does the honors of interviewing Villalba about this latest effort.

Letras Latinas Blog interviews Louis Villalba

Throughout your novel, The Stranger's Enigma, there is a consistent battle between the real world and the dream world, eventually resulting in an overlap between both worlds. Blurring the lines between fantasy and reality is a characteristic of surrealism, so I was wondering if the inspiration behind this novel came from this literary movement and some of it's prominent figures, or if it came from somewhere else?

With regard to the use of fantasy, the most influential author is Gabriel García Márquez. Otherwise, I cannot think of any other book similar to The Stranger’s Enigma. This is an experimental novel based on actual dreams. The dreams have been somewhat modified and adapted to fit a fictional plot.  In this novel, the reader takes a trip into the deep layers of the human mind where only dreams can transport them. The result is not different from an abstract painter’s attempt to draw a person’s character in a portrait.

In the real world, Daniel's mother and Marlene try to dictate Daniel's actions and 'teach' him what is right and what is wrong. In the dream world, characters such as Sonie live freely and happily where norms of "right" and "wrong" are not at odds, but coexist peacefully. Could Daniel's mother and Marlene be representative of society, consistently attempting to draw a line between right and wrong, black and white? perhaps when these lines should not exist? Overall, do you think these social norms actually take away from our happiness?

I believe most of us are born with some basic idea of what is right and wrong. Daniel’s mother represents society. She is the primary person who has reinforced and modified his innate concept. There are other influences in his life such as his profession and Marlene.  To live in a society, the individual must sacrifice—compromise— certain freedoms so that he or she can get a number of benefits in return.  The trade off has been advantageous for the human race. It has improved our happiness. Yet, we must always be on the lookout so that we don’t relinquish more freedoms than we need to.

Speaking of Sonie, at the end of the novel, Daniel says that Sonie is a better man than himself. What is your definition of a "better man"? Do you think this concept is universal (i.e. he must possess a specific list of qualities), or is it subjective according to each person?

I believe that, at birth, we harbored a human template with its own set of virtues and weaknesses. As we grow up, we willingly or inadvertently shed innate virtues and acquire new vices. A “better man” is the one who keeps most of the virtues, sheds almost all the weaknesses, and doesn’t learn new vices. The definition of a “better man” varies from individual to individual because we all come from different human templates, and each has its own array of qualities and weaknesses.

Daniel spends the entire novel searching for the secret of eternal bliss. In the end, he discovers the secret, but remains in anguish over his inability to find Julie. So, could this conflict represent the disconnect between knowing and understanding? Could it be possible for Daniel to truly know the secret of eternal bliss without experiencing it with Julie? In essence, can someone know what it takes to be happy, without ever fully understanding it?

Dr. Daniel Brandon searches for the secret of eternal bliss without realizing he is looking for Sonie’s bliss, not his. Everyone enjoys a different source of utmost happiness. We cannot understand bliss. We can only rationalize why it occurs or what it might take to achieve it. But joy is an emotion; it can only be felt. In life, we just hope that what we predict will make us happy will end up doing so. As my novel points out, our path to bliss—regardless of the nature— is paved with our own personal growth. 

In Freud's work, he emphasizes the subconscious needs and drives that fuel human behavior. I found it interesting that you touch upon this idea in your novel. At one point, Julie hides from Daniel out of anger because he intended to cheat on her with another woman. Sonie later tells Daniel that, in the dream world, initial intentions are all that matter, whether they are conscious or subconscious. Can you talk about how you incorporated Freud into your work? and how he became such a large influence in this novel?

Freud becomes an important character in this novel. His presence allows Daniel to discuss his dreams and their interpretation. Daniel considers him his mentor, but his famous colleague ends up becoming his friend, someone he can discuss thoughts that he cannot share with his mother or his wife. Daniel’s interpretation of his own dreams often clashes with Freud’s.

As a protagonist, Freud enriches the novel because he touches every aspect of the fascinating world of dreams. In the end, Daniel and Freud disagree about the essential meaning of dreams.  But their sometimes heated arguments shed light on the nature of the human being—why we have become what we are. I incorporated Freud into my work, because I considered his book, Interpretation of Dreams the most important reference in the study of the dream world. 

If you would indulge me, your academic record is nothing short of impressive. Certified in neurology and neurophysiology as well as published over 70 papers, I must ask: how did you begin writing? Did you have a goal to be a published writer or did this come later on? What was the process like, switching from writing strictly academic papers to writing intricate fictional novels?

A series of paranormal events occurred in my practice that challenged the basic neurological concepts of life and death.  I wanted to tell the story in my own words so that the public could sense and experience what I had felt. Yet, I lacked the knowledge and ability to do so.  Writing literary work has little or nothing in common with writing scientific papers. So, fourteen years ago, I found myself reading and studying classic literature in detail. I enjoyed it so much that it became my passion.    

You've published two books now. So I'm wondering, do you have any projects for the future? Would you consider moving into poetry, or other forms of literature? Overall, can we expect to see another novel on the horizon?

I am a storyteller. My works have been a source of personal pride. In the future, I hope I will reach a larger audience because my stories always carry a message to the readers. I need to improve my prose and raise my writing to a higher level of sophistication.  My next novel is already written. It just needs editing prior to the publication. Two non-fiction works are in the pipeline. I am also writing a collection of short stories about immigrants from Latin America. 

Publishing as Community Building: an interview with Louis Villalba

Louis Villalba is the hardest working writer I know. I had the pleasure of meeting him in Chicago back around 2006. He learned of PALABRA PURA, the poetry series I used to curate, and would often show up to the readings. In the course of our conversations, and subsequent shared meals over the years, I learned that he wrote. In short, we became friends. When I first met him, he’d been trying his hand at writing for around six or so years. He showed me a sample of his work, and I asked if ever thought about joining a writing group or take a writing workshop. I soon learned that he’d enrolled in a creative writing course at Northwestern. Months later, he showed me another sampling of his prose. I was astounded. The improvements had come by leaps and bounds. Eventually, in 2012, Villalba, who was not particularly concerned with the “expected” modes of getting into print, published The Silver Teacup: Tales of Cádiz, a collection of stories and pieces about his native city—a city I know and love from my years-long residence in Spain.  He also translated the original English-language manuscript into his native Spanish and simultaneously published La Tacita de Plata. His collection was warmly received in Cádiz, where he made appearances on local radio and television, and he had string of events in the Chicago area, as well. In short, his book was a model for what I like to call an ethos of “publishing-as-community-building.” I was so taken by the manuscript that I happily wrote a preface. Letras Latinas Blog has long had in mind publishing an interview with him based on The Silver Teacup. Letras Latinas Associate Roberto Cruz (’17) conducted the following interview.

—FA

RC: Roberto Cruz
LV: Louis Villalba

RC: Some of the time periods in these short stories go back hundreds of years. I realize that the city itself has a lot of history, but how do you as the author manage to go back in time yourself and write about these places and experiences as if you had been truly present during some of the time periods you describe?

LV: You need to live there as a child, perceive the love of the natives for their land, breathe the history of the town, and feel that you belong to the same ancestral past. Extensive reading can give some clue about what hides under the surface of an ancient city—obviously you need to do so to write historical fiction—but you need much more than that. You must listen to your elders, catch their expressions, and sense their feelings.

RC: The first story, “The man in the Blue Tunic,” gives an interesting start to the presentation of the book as a whole, including descriptions that take us back in ancient Rome. Was there any particular reason why you started Silver Teacup with that story?

LV: I wanted to highlight the glorious beginnings of Cádiz. Although the city was founded a thousand years earlier, it reached its maximum splendor during the Roman Empire. Cádiz was an example of how Romans integrated their conquered territories into their system of government. Four Roman Emperors were born in Spain: Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and Theodosius.

The tale brings out the history and myth of this enchanting town, where anywhere you dig a hole, you find artifacts or human remains going back thousands of years. As a five-year-old child, I used to go to an old theater called “El Comico” every week. My cousin and I sat in the highest and cheapest area in the auditorium, which we called “El gallinero,”—the coop—because it was full of rowdy children. We used to watch Lone Ranger movies and cheered at the top our lungs when our hero pursued the outlaws on his horse at full gallop. With the passage of time, the building was demolished. Several feet underground lay the remains of a Phoenician man who had died jumping a fence—he rested on his side with one of his arms elevated—seven hundred years before Christ was born. Little did we children know that we were disturbing the sleep of one of our ancestors with our vociferous behavior.

RC: I find it really interesting how you can navigate through these different time periods in Cádiz’s history. How is it, though, that you decide to pick the specific perspectives from which you write? Are any of these perspectives relevant to some type of experience in your own life?

LV: Most of the tales are based on stories that I heard as a child, so most of the accounts go back to that period of my life. Some tales like the “The Old Man and the Dog” derive from true events that recently occurred. But I moved the plot to my childhood, and let it unfold right in my neighborhood where my memory could go back and pick someone who had made an impact on me and transformed this person into the main character. Some are based on events in my life. For example, “the Ruby Ring,” was based on a ring that I lost swimming on one of the beaches in my hometown.  When I came back to the US, I mentioned the unfortunate loss to one of my patients. The following month, she came back for an office visit and told me that during a dream she had seen my ring in the bottom of the ocean.

RC: Looking back on all these different stories, is there anything about Cádiz that has remained unchanged? What are some of the changes that you find most compelling?

LV: There have been drastic changes in the geography of Cádiz since the time of the Roman Empire. There are only a few things that have not changed: the blue color of its water, the azure of its sky, and the bright sunlight that bathes its cityscape almost every day. Antonio Machado wrote that Cádiz was made up of “salty luminosity.”

The most compelling change lies in its people’s philosophy of life. It seems as if Gaditanos —as the people from Cádiz are called—look at any event that affects the world through the prism of three thousand years of experience. Nothing from outside their hometown rocks their lives. They have a pragmatic view of what is important and what is not. An anecdote illustrates this philosophy. When the Gulf War was going on, scores of bombers took off from the US air base in Rota, Cádiz. The planes roared over the sky of Cádiz on their way to Iraq as the people in my hometown were enjoying Mardi Grass. A chirigota group composed a song with the following refrain:

“Ay que casualidad! ahora una guerra mundial...la gente no respeta ni que estamos en carnaval”

“Ugh! What a coincidence! Now, a world war … people don’t even respect that we are celebrating our Mardi Grass.”

RC: There are specific stories, like “The man in the Blue Tunic,” and “Carnaval,” that distort the sense of time, that is, that the past and present are meeting at one single moment. How do you feel this component functions in the book?

LV: It brings the past to life and establishes its continuity with the present, conveying that things are not only the way they are, but also the way they were. The writer can describe two contrasting yet connected views. It also improves the readers’ relationship to the story because they can pick up the thread of the plot in the present and trace it back to the past. This makes the tale enjoyable and engaging. At least, that is my hope.

RC: How has this city and its history influenced your writing? There is an obvious integration of its history in the book, but what is it about this history that compelled you to write these short stories?

LV: I wanted to remind the world, particularly the Anglo-Saxon world, of the great contributions that Cádiz has made to the history of humankind. It was the far west frontier of the ancient civilizations, a major outpost in the discovery of America, and the most important center of commerce between Europe and the American continent. I selected March 2012 for the publication of the book to honor the two-hundred-year anniversary of the first Hispanic Constitution that was held in Cádiz on March 19, 1812 and has served as a template for the fundamental laws of all Spanish-speaking democracies.

RC: All of these stories have their own perspective. There are some, however, that do not necessarily appeal to the history of this city, but rather specific experiences like in “The Accordion Man.” Is this another way of presenting the city, not through its large buildings and amazing history, but rather through the perspective of a specific man?

LV: I was inspired to write this story after I had seen a Romany man play the accordion on a street corner in Madrid. His expression was one of restrained sadness and fear of people’s rejection. I transplanted him to Cádiz because I wanted to describe my hometown through the eyes of a migrant troubadour who tries to survive amidst the beauty of its cityscape, his life’s harsh reality, and people’s indifference to his contribution to their happiness—through his music.

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Louis Villalba was born in Cádiz, Spain. He graduated with a degree in medicine and surgery at the University of Seville. He completed his training in neurology at Chicago Medical School, where he taught for over thirty years. Board certified in neurology and clinical neurophysiology, he has published seventy-three scientific papers and book chapters over the course of his career. The Silver Teacup is his first creative work, published in 2012. More recently, he has published, The Stranger’s Enigma, his second book of fiction. Visit his website at: http://www.louisvillalba.com