“During mom’s stay in prison, my father would appear around the house from time to time with toys found in the trash, drunk and singing Racing songs out loud. But it was worse when he showed up after school. That croto that smelled like red wine embarrassed me, and at the same time it caused me a certain mercy.” That is just a fragment of The resentful childthe last book of Cesar Gonzalez published at the end of 2023.
The poet and filmmaker turns to his own life to weave scenes from his own biography into short texts that crudely portray his childhood in the Carlos Gardel neighborhood, where continues living and writing, along with his first criminal forays. His first drugs, the first bullets he received and, at the same time, his first approach to reading or cinema. I would end up in jail But there his transformation would begin: art, as he commented on several occasions, would save him.
“I feel that many kids from the neighborhoods they can feel like it’s their own story. It is a book that represents the life of a very large portion of Argentine society,” he tells Clarín Culture shortly before presenting it on Tuesday with Dolores Reyes at the Buenos Aires International Book Fair. He spoke about this text, which already promises a second part, and about the present of current culture – “desolation, sadness, anger, disbelief,” he describes – in this talk.
–The resentful child received good reviews. What do you expect for the presentation at the fair and how did you decide to get together with Dolores Reyes?
–I think that since I presented my first book of poetry, The revenge of the tied lamb, Back in 2010, I have been to every edition of the Fair, presenting my other books or as someone else looking for copies. It is a beautiful event that we have every year and that I try not to get lost. On this particular occasion I am interested in listening to the public and seeing what dialogue emerges.. Sharing the talk with Dolores Reyes is charming to me because I admire her. We share a similar life experiencea way of seeing and interpreting that experience.
–The book, which is very much non-fiction, arose from a proposal from your editor, Ana Laura Pérez. How was this format of short pieces that forge a narrative as a whole defined?
–Yes, it has a lot of chronicle. I sought that the book could convey something of the adrenaline, the lack of perspective on the possibility of a distant future, the desperation and the absence of planning, which are so common in the life of popular neighborhoods. It has this short format because I didn’t have the time or concentration necessary to write something more robust. I live in a neighborhood with material conditions that do not allow me to do so. The noise is constant, the violence too, in that atmosphere it is very difficult to abstract and immerse yourself in a fever of freehand writing. Just because the book is short does not mean that it did not cost me long hours and months of writing, rewriting and thinking.
–In relation to the latter, there is a polishing work with the language. Is he indebted to your poetry?
–The brevity allowed me to be able to “polish” each word, phrase, and, above all, the memories much more. There may be a link with poetry, which also works with the brief. But I did not develop the poetic question as much in this book except in some chapters, and in one in particular, “Rochos misticos”, which could be understood as a long poem.
–In your essay The fetishism of marginality You mention the imaginary of the villero-monster constructed by the dominant hegemonic social sense and you talk about the possibility of the oppressed to tell their own story, forging their own symbols. Do you think that with this book you managed to materialize this?
–I want to believe that it is a contribution so that we villeros, those of us who were born without means of production, not even within a working class family, those of us who tend to be ridiculed in the artistic regime, can tell our story in a transparent way, without tutors and without guilty manipulations from people outside our reality. Although I tell many personal anecdotes, What I experienced was experienced by thousands or millions of people. I feel that many kids from the neighborhoods can read my book and feel more than identified; they can feel that it is their own story. It represents the life of a very large portion of Argentine society. What my body experienced for a sector of society, the upper-middle class, is extraordinary, exceptional, even miraculous. But for others, those who live in a village, It is just the story of the purest everyday life.
–It is interesting how you narrate a certain sentimental education linked to culture (your grandmother Genoveva and reading, your mother and cinema) at the same time that you narrate your foray into crime. How did both worlds coexist at that time and how do you remember the click that made you finally decide to pursue an artistic/creative endeavor?
–I talk about the “famous” click in the next book, a continuation of this one, where I tell about my five seasons in prison hell. The only thing I can say is that that click, which translates as redemption, is not a straight path. Many people believe that once I clicked, my life changed automatically, and what was hell was transformed into a sweet heaven, that the darkness evaporated and a sunny and refreshing plain appeared. And nothing was like that. Everyone knows that the click happened in prison. That did not stop the bars from producing confinement, quite the opposite. The fact of wanting to start being another subject in prison brought me more complications than benefits. The redemption could have been diluted into oblivion, because once I became a strict reader, I studied and participated in different workshops, that did not prevent me from having to continue fighting with other prisoners or suffer different tortures from the prison system or the henchmen. of the judicial power. The redemption, which many people complain about me for not having included in The Resentful Child, made me receive more violence than when I was a common prisoner, for doing something that broke with prison logic. The redemption, which so many people demand that I speak about to calm their consciences, could have involved my death itself.
–Finally, as a filmmaker and writer, what is your perception about the moment that culture is going through today in a context of adjustment by the current government?
–My perception is desolation, sadness, anger and disbelief. Of not being able to believe that one of the most interesting facets of Argentine society is being attacked like this. They are destroying something that has to do with the arts every day. My thesis is that there is some personal resentment among many of the officials in this government. Several are frustrated artists or those who could not learn from failure.. Then they attack out of personal revenge to destroy an entire collective construction. Also because it is the wet dream of neoliberalism; a society without poetry, with individuals with no other function or aspirations than to be innocuous merchandise, without thought, without creativity or contradictions. But luckily Argentine society has already shown that antibodies are alive. Milei is not eternal, although his messianic delirium surely convinces him otherwise.. This epochal wind is not eternal either. The winds always change, it is an absolute truth of nature and history. I am surprised by the degree of vulgarity of the president, his brutality disguised as intellectual in the act of carrying some folders in his hand. He is a bad plagiarist and someone who cannot even manifest a minimum degree of civility and kindness in his speech. If it weren’t for the fact that he is subjecting so many millions of his compatriots to such a degree of suffering, he would be enjoying the fact that the upper class has become emboldened and defends them. an individual who worships ugliness and violence, who is so spiritually broken and is such a liar. Why would you enjoy it? Because Milei belongs to a class that she always sees black people and the poor as brutes. And in this case they have a representative, white and light-eyed, who studied at a private university, pampered by all the corporations, but who rejoices in barbarism. Something that has always been associated with the lower classes.
César González presents his book The resentful child (Penguin Random House) this Tuesday the 30th at 7 p.m., in the Alfonsina Storni room. He will be accompanied by the writer Dolores Reyes.
