Luis Landero returns with La ultima funcio (Tusquets). A novel of unfulfilled dreams and second chances in which a man born with a prodigious voice, Tito Gil, apparently destined for success, returns to the village of his childhood. There they still remember his performance in the Miracle and apotheosis of the holy girl Rosalb a, the play that represented the whole town. And they propose that he revive it: they believe that it can attract tourism and save them from being an empty Spain. Life and theater intersect in a novel that for Landero (Alburquerque, 1948) “is like a tale from The Thousand and One Nights”.
Is life pure theater?
Each of us is a few, we have several selves, several masks. We take them off and put them on and that’s how we deal with people. Poor us if this wasn’t theater. The art of coexistence is somewhat the art of theater.
What roles have you played?
Right now what is here is not the writer. He is an envoy of his. The writer does not leave the house, he does not give interviews, he is rather curmudgeonly, silent. The one who comes here to talk to you is another, who talks about writing on behalf of the writer. If he could hear me, he wouldn’t like what I’m saying very much. I myself am a loner and even a bit of a misanthrope. But when I’m in public, I’m a kind, cordial, even funny person. This is me? It’s me too.
The novel talks about accepting the artist’s destiny. Did you accept it?
When an artistic vocation grabs you by the neck, you can’t let it go. I wrote my first poems when I was 14 or 15. I fell in love with words, such as taciturn, that I heard in a coffee shop. He wrote poems in which he was the guest star and the other words, comparsa. I knew then that I would be a writer, above all else. Even if I dedicated myself to something else.
Does the failure of those who wanted to be artists have another epic?
When there is a great attempt there is no failure. Great attempts are those of Don Quixote and we would never call him a failure. The problem is when dreams are betrayed and you don’t try. When you try, like Tito Gil, who is inspired by a friend, you don’t fail. There is glory in failure.
Does Tito Gil start from reality?
Yesterday I was with him, his name is Ernesto Gil and he is 85 years old. I met him in 1970 and he has a prodigious voice. He is a lawyer, he has an office. And he is an artist of extraordinary, elemental purity. He hasn’t succeeded what he could have, but it doesn’t matter to him. He dedicated himself to what he wanted. I accompanied him with the guitar. We toured the US…
Are you the teacher of the novel?
I’m in Galindo. I didn’t get into it because it seemed like I was getting into a mess.
A young man in his novel wants to be a writer and analyzes the style of Galdós, Baroja, Borges… Did you do it too?
Yes. At the age of 20, when I switched to prose, I wrote like Valle-Inclán, like Borges, Cortázar, Baroja, García Márquez, Rulfo… This teaches a lot. I would like to write with the speed of Shakespeare, the grace of Cervantes, the formal intuition of Valle, the stormy spirit of Unamuno, to unite the styles in one. It takes time to define a style. It is usually found when you find your world.
And what is your world?
My father is in the center. He died when I was 16. He wanted me to be a lawyer, not a farmer, like him. I hadn’t gone to school and wanted me to be someone in life. I was bad for him, I didn’t like studying, I was a bit of an excuse-maker. Then he died and I incurred a debt with him that I am still paying off. He was a man who considered himself a failure, because he had good qualities, but life did not give him the opportunity to develop them. And that bitterness, that awareness of failure, is a bit my theme. All my novels feature youthful dreams, failure, if there are second chances. And especially the desire to be something, to do things and not be able to, sometimes. Icarus trying to reach the sun, those in the tower of Babel, this ambition in man that on the one hand makes us great and, on the other, makes us miserable.
