El crimen paga (sometimes)

Pablo De Santis, escritor de inolvidables argumentos fantásticos, guionista de comics y lúcido ensayista de este arte, en pocas líneas consigue delatar su ADN: “Hija del siglo XX, hermana pobre del cine, la historieta se fue alejando de sus vínculos con la ilustración y aún con la literatura, para avanzar en sus lazos con las aventuras filmadas. Del cine recibió técnicas, modos de narrar; le cedió, a cambio, provincias enteras de su mitología”.

En “Deep City” reaparece este cruce, la visión de un mundo que se ha alimenta de una y otra expresión, construido en este caso de viñetas en blanco y negro. Publicada durante la década de los ochenta en revistas de España y Argentina, en formato de capítulos cerrados, fue creada por el dibujante Francisco Solano López – “El Eternauta”, “Ministerio”–  y el escritor y crítico de jazz Carlos Sampayo – “Alack Sinner”–. Esta edición, estadounidense, enteramente en inglés, se editó por los mismos años.

Es el comisario Evaristo –  rostro duro, ojos cortantes, figura gruesa, en definitiva, una presencia que intimida – y la ciudad de Buenos Aires los protagonistas de las siete historias del libro que se desarrollan entre finales de los ‘50 y principios de los ’60. Inspirado en la figura del mítico policía argentino Evaristo Meneses, éste es principalmente un hombre ético, de códigos entre los delincuentes, que prefiere dejar como último recurso la violencia. Utilizando diálogos cortos e imágenes que se suceden rápidamente, dibujadas con la pluma maestra de Solano López, las historias de Sampayo son un cross a la mandíbula que continúa su efecto en la memoria del lector por mucho tiempo. Son piezas que transitan el trecho negrísimo del policial duro norteamericano donde los personajes están derrotados de antemano sin ninguna afectación ya que simplemente son creíbles por ser humanos, demasiado humanos.

El libro abre con “Breaking the tie”, una historia en el que un deuda del pasado, esos resentimientos que se arrastran como viejas pesadillas pegadas al sueño,  logra por fin tomar revancha en el presente. En la siguiente, “The Famous Lubitsch Case”, lo que parece el secuestro de una adolescente da un giro sorpresivo que concluye con cierto sabor tragicómico. Es por eso que la ciudad de Buenos Aires retratada por Solano López, tan extrañamente europea como americana en sus arterias, se une perfectamente a esta atmósfera implacable de Deep City. 

Así, la dupla creativa refuerza el concepto de otros artistas a lo largo de la historia del comics, ya sea en la Chicago alucinada de “Dick Tracy” (Chester Gould) o las imaginadas Gotham City de Batman (Hill Finger y Bob Kane) o la Santa María de Perramus (Alberto Breccia y Juan Sasturain), que encontraron en la ciudad contemporánea el escenario adecuado para desarrollar la justicia y la miseria, en pocas palabras, nuestra predilecta obra colectiva.     

                                                                             

 

                                                                                                                              Vera

 

Review Deep City,Carlos Sampayo –  Francisco Solano López, (Hojasbravas)

 

Eduardo González Viaña: Bad Dreams in America

The appointment is in Books and Books, a well-known bookstore in Coral Gables, a peaceful residential neighborhood in Miami. That’s where Jaime Bayly lives, but he’s not around. In a small auditorium improvised in one of the rooms, however, about 20 readers listen to Eduardo González Viaña present the English-language edition of American Dreams, a work that has given him great satisfaction.

 The host is Beto Ortiz, a journalist and writer who, like Viaña and Bayly, is a Peruvian living in the United States. First published by Alfaguara, this book of 19 stories has become a small best-seller. Everyday Viaña receives e-mails from all over the United States from Latinos thanking him for this stories where with sharp insight and prose praised by Bryce Echenique they feel that someone has recorded their lives, dreams, and some of their nightmares in a foreign land.

There is something of travesty about the exodus across the thin line that is the border South of the Rio Bravo, that the author of “Frontier Woman” and “The Dead Fish” compares to “the biggest and most transcendent since the Jews walked toward the Promised Land.”

Can you tell us how you came up with the idea of recounting the voyage of Latin Americans to the United States?

— In the early 90s, when I was a professor at Berkeley, I received a visit in my office from an ancient Guatemalan woman. She wanted the university to lend her a “small atomic bomb” that could supposedly cure cancer. She had read about it somewhere and that’s why she came illegally to the United States. Her son, in his 50’s, had desahuciado in his own country, but she brought him here completely sure that they would be able to cure him. I was fascinated by this mother’s love and I thought that it was a symbol for the experience of all of us. I decided to write this story. After that, other stories, or the true story, came to me day after day. I will have to write many more books to tell them all.

In all 19 stories there is a lot of hope but also desperation. It seems like the American Dream is sometimes a nightmare.

— The majority of immigrants come here pushed by terrible problems in the land they have left behind. They don’t arrive; they flee. Under those circumstances, it’s more than likely that the dream will become a nightmare.

You have lived here a long time. How has the Latin community in the United States progressed and what challenges still lie ahead?

— I’ve lived in the United States for 15 years. In that time, I’ve seen many totally gringo communities transformed suddenly. A taquería truck replaces fast food with tacos that are cheaper and taste better – or at least have some taste. Spanish classes are offered in the public library. The economic power of our community is being felt. Banks and stores try to attract us. Advertising speaks our language. I’d like it if the community’s political presence would be expressed as well, if our people would vote. I’d like it too if ou people would by books – including, of course, American Dreams.

Why do you think more and more Latin writers decide to live in the United States rather than Europe, as they used to years ago?

— You’re right. I also did my “obligatory European service.” I lived in Paris and Madrid for six years, some of which were the best of my life, especially the years I spent in a tiny apartment on Galileo Street in Madrid. What happened? How did I end up here? I don’t know, but I don’t regret it. It’s peaceful enough for me to write what I have to write. Overall, I know what I have to write from here until I die.


How important was it for your career when you won the international Juan Rulfo prize? What does it mean to you that American Dreams is a bestseller in Spanish?

— It scared me when I heard the news in both cases. I said: Caramba, Eduardo, know you’re screwed. Now you’re really going to have to write morning, noon, and night. You don’t have an excuse for resting anymore. You’ve won a terrible responsibility.        

 

 

 

 

                                                                                              Vera

 

Interview Eduardo González Viaña (Meansheets)

 

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