Gustavo Rodríguez (Lima, 54 years old), then a publicist and at times a political adviser, at the beginning of this century, when he did not yet have the courage to dream of the Alfaguara Novel Prize, obeyed a slogan of the writer Oswaldo Reynoso: publish. It hasn’t gone bad. One Hundred Guinea Pigs, the unpublished work that won out of 706 manuscripts, is his ninth novel, sixth under the Alfaguara label. From a duplex on the ninth floor, where you can see the tip of the Pacific Ocean between paintings by the Mexican Siqueiros, engravings by José Tola and sketches by Víctor Humareda, Rodríguez gives his perspective on Peru, which he defines as the country of adolescents in which he seeks Confirmation and opens the doors of his literature, the pool of water into which he plunged after thirty years.
Questions. Amid the death of the marches, of the strikes, your price was known. Internationally the only good news from Peru for a long time. How did you feel near that powder keg?
Answer. So far, it’s been difficult for me to answer this question because it’s multi-faceted. On an intimate level, I felt stunned because I was woken up at 4:20 am by the jury and couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Then I fell into a kind of reverie, which was absorbed by the protocol of the award and the presentation to the international press, and then came the barrage of affection and affection from friends. But there is one level that I didn’t expect and it has to do with the fact that we are a country that is going through very difficult times. We feel dejected and it’s natural that we try to recognize some achievements from compatriots to hold on to a sense of pride.
Q Nothing new for the country …
R That’s how it is. Twenty years ago, when Peru was rocked by the Vladivideos [videos que destaparon la corrupción durante el Gobierno de Alberto Fujimori] we also felt hopeless. Suddenly we started to be proud of some other things because neither politics nor football made us happy. We embrace gastronomy and its chefs like a flag, the tenor Juan Diego Flórez and his singing, Sofía Mulánovich and her stage, and this bubble was born that ended in the Peru brand. I hope that the same thing doesn’t happen, that we don’t cling to floating happiness, but that our pride and heroism has more to do with organized young people fighting the scourges that left us in this situation. I’d rather believe in a more anonymous and massive heroism than specific characters that give us shine.
Q Was it difficult to express your joy amidst this devastating news?
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R The first thing I said in the award announcement was that this was a strange day, happy personally but not happy at all in the context. That, after all, is the nourishment of literature. The confrontation of emotions, these contradictions that inhabit us as human beings.
Q One Hundred Guinea Pigs is a novel that will get into the hands of your readers in March and of course great expectations are attached to it.
R That scares me too. The main requirement for being disappointed is a very high expectation (laughs).
Q The protagonist of this story buys guinea pigs in hopes of changing her life. I kept thinking about the symbolism of the guinea pig.
R We are in a moment of dizziness. We are a republic that, having failed to solve its underlying problems — racism, inequality, little respect for institutions — tends to have pendulum histories. Sometimes we think we’re in a gold mine, we calm down, and from time to time we turn to these ancient monstrosities. We are in the circuit at this precise moment where we are out of control and looking for a way out. Peru is like a guinea pig that doesn’t know where to go.
Q Will another moment of temporary peace come?
R Yes, that’s how it will be if we don’t start discussing as heartily as possible what kind of country we want. Being a republic implies certain things that we don’t take into account because of the high-pitched voices I hear. Do we want democracy? Being one implies many aspects that many voices do not support.
Q In this polarization, are there more people for a hard hand and a scourge?
R Obviously we are a country with authoritarian roots. Most of our history has been lived without democracy. But I don’t know to what extent this feeling that we are an authoritarian country is also due to the fact that the media tends to give voice and microphone to the loudest voices. All this time they should have shown us more reasonable voices, but they have empowered many violent people who have created this climate that makes Peru a strange madhouse that the other neighbors look at with concern.
Q In The Fury of Achilles you addressed the absence of a father. In an interview you mentioned that Latinos are always looking for a father. Is this divided Peru also looking for him?
R Sometimes I think that symbolically we are chasing a Savior, a Messiah who will command us and tell us what to do. Consciously or unconsciously we are looking for a dictatorship. It has been proven that when seeing chaos, a large proportion of people prefer to lose their freedom in order to have order in their lives. And this is a very dangerous situation. We are unaware of the dire consequences that would entail.
Q Dina Boluarte is Peru’s first female president, but she still failed to inspire feminism.
R In reality, the movements first seek to respect human rights and it cannot be said that your regime has respected human rights. When you fail at something so obvious, it’s difficult for you to set an example for feminists or any kind of social activist. I believe that Dina Boluarte’s regime is judged poorly in any country that claims to be civilized or democratic.
Q How were those political talks with Oswaldo Reynoso?
R He was an old-fashioned Marxist, but at least he was consistent. He wasn’t offensive. And we were able to make certain agreements. And when we realized that that wasn’t possible, we preferred to avoid certain topics. We had the party alone. And finally, the dialogue between Peruvians should be like this. This is taught from an early age at home and at school.
Q Before what happened, were you excited that a teacher would become President of Peru?
R It was enough to listen to a few interventions from Pedro Castillo to realize that he was someone with very limited boundaries. But I could understand that this Cinderella story made a lot of sense to many Peruvians. How sensible Alejandro Toledo was back then [expresidente de Perú].
Q Since you are talking about Toledo, he advised him in the early 2000 election campaign against Fujimori. What did he suspect?
R It was a challenge out of conviction. I wanted to advise anyone who might have a chance against Fujimori. Toledo triumphed in the end, but years later he ended up disappointing us and that’s one of the reasons I never took part in a political campaign again. I didn’t want to endure another disappointment like that.
Q Let’s imagine you were an advisor to Dina Boluarte one day, what would you advise?
R give up It is the only worthy way out for what may happen later.
Jaime Rodríguez at his home in Lima, Peru.CESAR CAMPOS
Q One Hundred Guinea Pigs touches on the themes of dignity, old age and death. Have you noticed signs of aging?
R More than age, from progressive deterioration. I wouldn’t have written this book 20 years ago, but when your hangover gets worse, when your knees hurt more than before, when your back starts struggling, you say, I’m on my way to what my elderly suffer. There’s one requirement for writing this novel, and it’s experiencing firsthand the physical maturity that lies ahead of the impending drop.
Q Is it true that you usually talk to your family about how you would like your death to be?
R Yes, we joke about that. I try to naturalize my death with my partner, with my daughters. My partner doesn’t like it when I talk about it, but we joke a lot with my daughters. They play with me and I like that. It’s a nice way to exorcise what we don’t usually talk about very often.
Q How do you want your funeral to go?
R I want it to be a celebration of life and not a cry for death. Let it be music, drinks, videos with memories of everything we lived together. I like an environment like this more than something heavy.
Q What traces of friends or close people fulfilled this task?
R The best wake, or the most emotional and comforting wake I’ve ever attended, has to do with the making of One Hundred Guinea Pigs. It belonged to my father-in-law. I watched him die surrounded by love, affection, affection. Easy with life, go prepared, make peace with everyone. That was the trigger for me to later write this novel like a man possessed.
Q You are the second Peruvian, after Santiago Roncagliolo, to win the Alfaguara Award.
R Yes, 17 years later. I find it a happy confirmation that I have done the right thing with the constant production work in this very long craft, literature. I’m thankful it’s at this point in my life. If I had been younger who knows if I would have been conceited or if I would have been paralyzed by the challenge of showing I was up to the prize.
Q What did Roncagliolo tell you?
R Santiago was at the proclamation dinner. No one there knows which face will come out. Only the winner and the people behind the prize know about it. He sat at a table with other Peruvians like Gabriela Wiener and Jorge Eduardo Benavides. They tell me they jumped off the table. There were friends who told me they screamed it like a fool. Which excites me a lot. Santiago was one of the first to put photos of my face on the screen and expressed his joy at its publication. He told me I owe him a whiskey for what he yelled at at the gala. We’ll take that (laughs).
Q You were born in Lima but went to school in Trujillo. When you returned to Lima, did you feel like a provincial?
R Complete. I kind of capture it in The Fury of Achilles when the boy lifts his head and looks at these tall buildings that he’s not used to, which are just steps when you compare them to cities more cosmopolitan than Lima.
Q Have you ever experienced racism?
R Yes, any Peruvian who is not entirely white, either genetically or by manners, is at risk of being hit by someone at some point up the ladder.
Q That’s why he appears in his novels from time to time.
R Yes, because you cannot escape the racism that occurs around you even if you are not a direct victim of racism. You can’t avoid your country’s big drama, at least if you want a believable fiction set in a country like this.
Q When he started literature, he received severe criticism, the writers found it very strange that a publicist would write. What was the most hurtful thing they said to you?
R I prefer to keep it to myself. I prefer to cut with what, I think, is no longer thought of me.
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