When I started traveling I understood to what extent Buenos Aires It was different from other literary cities. Maybe we all think the same about our hometown, or maybe my revelation confirms the arrogant ways of the porteño —those who grew up in the port city of Buenos Aires—, with which the rest of Latin America usually associates us.
It is from this arrogance that our literature is born. Here we say that we are the city with the most bookstores per inhabitant, that even in the midst of the economic crisis there are almost 300 active independent publishers, and that the big problem we are dealing with is that we have more people who want to write than people who read.
We grew up cradled by the idea of a city founded and built by European immigrants, who lived for centuries longing for cultures from other continents.
“Everything here is a kind of replica of somewhere else,” he said. Graciela Speranza once. But the past of these lands, plundered and ignored for generations, bubbles up rebelliously everywhere.
This city may be navel-gazing all day long, but it’s not out of sheer arrogance. It’s just that Buenos Aires still trying to understand where it comes from, and what this whole business of having a past and a future is like: two fictions that we are still working on. Nervous and vital, that is how our literature shakes itself all the time, and how it likes to splash everything.
Reading during the trip
In the time it takes to read a novel, you can also read five short stories. If you want to get a general idea, my advice is to look through our classics, starting with the shorter texts.
As soon as the plane takes off, you have to start with El matadero, by Esteban Echeverriaprobably the founding text of Argentine literature. After the first nap, you have to go straight to The Alephof Jorge Luis Borges.
After lunch, House taken overof Julio Cortazarfollowed by White Gloryof Sara Gallardo. And 15 minutes before landing, Early today, Pedro Mairal. Thus the city plan is outlined in several voices and generations.
The optic nerve, of Maria Gainzacan be a good guide for those who want to walk through some neighborhoods and art museums crossing ideas and cultural references of all kinds.
If you want to delve into the different social strata, you can read The ghostsof Cesar Aira —possibly our most prolific writer, famous for his more than 100 publications—. Or take a tour of one of the city’s most traditional high schools, with the historical perspective of the 1980s in Moral sciencesof Martin Kohan.
The writers in vogue
The spectacular triad: Mariana Enríquez, Gabriela Cabezón Cámara and Selva Almada —followed by many others equally talented, but not yet as well translated—. Enríquez is our horror magician, Big head camera She is an admirable innovator of prose and language, and Almada has a slow and murky restraint that always fascinates me.
They have in common, besides belonging to my generation, the fury of historical revisionism, and the courage of those who rename what has been silenced.
The most interesting thing about new Argentine literature is moving in the margins. It is recovering lost lexicons, registering new forms of speech, moving in the most marginal social strata, thinking of new identities and new literary genres as well. The problem with this divine ebullition is that sometimes it takes decades to be translated.
What book could transport me to the interior? The chronicles of travel to the Argentine interior, in Chronic travelerof Hebe Uhart; they are little gems to be savored little by little.
You can take an imaginary trip to the rural areas of Córdoba with the magnificent stories of Federico Falco, from A Perfect Cemetery. Or stay in the provincial capital with The bad onesof Camila Sosa Villadawhich speaks openly about the transvestite world, as she herself calls it, which I knew very little about, and at the same time is an extremely literary text, a true poetic manifesto.
If what you want is to travel in time, the novel Zamaof Antonio di Benedettois ideal for getting into the Argentine north of the 18th century, in the midst of colonialism —and then, as the icing on the cake, you can see the film adaptation of the same name. Lucretia Martela true atmospheric spectacle filled with landscapes from the past.
By the way, Di Benedetto is also one of my favorite short story writers, and his collection Nest in the Bonestranslated by Martina Broneris an excellent starting point for English-speaking readers.
You can travel to the coast even a couple of centuries further back, with El entenado, by Juan Jose Saerprobably one of the great Argentine authors, and still little read outside our country.
Where to curl up with a book
Our botanical garden is small, but it is an oasis for quiet reading in the middle of the city. In Buenos Aires there is a strong café culture, where it is not frowned upon to order just “a cortado” and stay there reading for hours. And we must warn the unsuspecting visitor that the city is nocturnal, even in its literary aspect. On any given night, and even during the week, there are book presentations everywhere and various reading cycles—small spaces in houses, clubs, radios, bars, where authors read to small audiences what they are producing.
Just walk around any neighborhood and you’ll come across bookstores. El Ateneo is the one you’ll find in the tourist guide, often listed as one of the most beautiful in the world. Librería Ávila is the oldest in Buenos Aires, founded in 1785. Eterna Cadencia, in the Palermo neighborhood, is the type of bookstore that we Argentine readers like the most: personal spaces, individual curatorships, and shelves overcrowded with books.
And then there is the famous Avenida Corrientes, with its six or seven blocks of second-hand bookshops. They used to be open 24 hours a day, in case someone needed to buy a book of poetry after going to the theatre, followed by a long dinner with friends and a quick stop at the bar at around 4 a.m. Today, most of them are open even until midnight.
Which audiobook would be a good companion while walking around the city?
Nodded to and paid homage to in series and films such as Lost and Solaris, among others; if you are interested in the world of artificial creations, digital consciousness and immortality, you will be amazed by The Invention of Morel, by Adolfo Bioy CasaresAnd the most curious thing is that it was published more than 80 years ago. A key novel in Argentine literature, a classic representative of the genre here called “Rioplatense fantasy.”
And don’t miss the voice of Julio Cortazar From the album Cortázar reads Cortázar. Listening to it on my Walkman in the 80s, was how I myself began to discover my Buenos Aires in my adolescence.
Samanta Schweblin’s reading list in Buenos Aires
The slaughterhouse, Esteban Echeverria
The Aleph, Jorge Luis Borges
House taken, Julio Cortazar
White Glory, Sara Gallardo
Earlier today, Pedro Mairal
The optic nerve, Maria Gainza
The ghosts, Cesar Aira
Moral sciences, Martin Kohan
The dangers of smoking in bed, Mariana Enriquez
The Adventures of China Iron, Gabriela Cabezon Camera
The wind that sweeps away, Almada Forest
Chronic traveler, Hebe Uhart
A perfect cemetery, Federico Falco
The bad ones, Camila Sosa Villada
Zama and Nest in the Bones, Antonio di Benedetto
The stepson, Juan Jose Saer
The invention of Morel, Adolfo Bioy Casares
