Chilean-Canadian bilingual writer Carmen Rodríguez (carmenrodriguez.ca) is the author of Guerra Prolongada/Protracted War (poetry); a body to remember with/De cuerpo entero (short stories); and Retribution (a novel). Rodríguez also has an extensive career as an educator and journalist, including work in adult literacy and popular education, particularly with Indigenous Peoples and other marginalized communities in the Americas.
1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
My first book was GUERRA PROLONGADA/PROTRACTED WAR, a bilingual (Spanish-English) volume of poetry (Toronto, Women’s Press, 1992). Until then, the professions and activities that had defined my place in the world were “educator,” “journalist” and “activist.” This book expanded that repertoire to include “poet and writer.” Also, its publication allowed me to become a member of The Writers’ Union of Canada. Since then, I have been an active member of the organization, serving twice on its National Council (an elected position), participating in its Governance and Membership Criteria Task Forces, and chairing or co-chairing its Minority Writers’ Committee and Social Justice Task Force.
My most recent book is the novel ATACAMA (Halifax/Winnipeg, Roseway/ Fernwood Publishing, 2021). My two previous books are RETRIBUTION, also a novel (Toronto, Women’s Press Literary, 2011), and the short story collection AND A BODY TO REMEMBER WITH (Vancouver, Arsenal Pulp Press, 1997).
AND A BODY TO REMEMBER WITH introduced me to bilingual writing. While GUERRA PROLONGADA/PROTRACTED WAR offered me the opportunity to collaborate with Heidi Neufeld-Raine in the translation of my poems from Spanish into English, the short stories in AND A BODY TO REMEMBER WITH triggered my interest in writing in both languages. This resulted in two books authored entirely by me: one in English and one in Spanish, which were published simultaneously in Canada and Chile.
RETRIBUTION was my first novel, which I wrote using what I now call “my teeter-totter methodology.” This involves going back and forth between English and Spanish, an approach I have continued to use until now. Unfortunately, EL DESQUITE, RETRIBUTION’s Spanish counterpart has yet to be published, but Juritzen Forlag translated the book into Norwegian and released it in Oslo as CHILES DǾTRE in 2013.
It took me fourteen years to complete this novel -- the story of the Martinez family, as told in the voices of Soledad and Sol, a mother and her daughter, with book-end interventions by third-generation Tania. At times I struggled with the scope of the narrative, which spans seven decades and unfolds in two countries, while exploring the intersection between catastrophic political events and the personal lives of the protagonists. Furthermore, the main theme of the novel did not become evident to me in the early stages of my writing it, which meant that once I decided on it, I had to reformulate the story and practically start all over again. While I am happy with RETRIBUTION, in hindsight I think that a slightly different structure would have yielded a better result.
I’m very satisfied with ATACAMA. With the invaluable help of Linda Little, my editor, I believe that I succeeded in telling an important story and telling it well. I studied literature for many years and taught it for many more, so I think I know how to recognize good fiction when I read it. Modesty apart, I believe that ATACAMA is a good piece of literary work: it tells the story of and delves deep into the psyches of two lovable, interesting characters, while examining the interplay between their personal lives and the crucial historical events that define their journeys in this world. Their voices are well defined and reflect their temperaments and interests. The plot is dynamic and entertaining. The structure works. The settings are compelling. All in all, I feel that the ten years I spent working on ATACAMA yielded a good result.
2 - How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
I did not come to poetry first. From an early age and along the years I wrote both poetry and short fiction. My first attempt at getting published professionally was in 1972, when I sent my short story “Acuarela” to the Paula Magazine literary contest (Paula was a very popular women’s magazine published in Santiago by a collective that included Isabel Allende). My short story won an honorary mention and appeared in the March-1973 issue of the magazine.
A United States-sponsored, Canada-supported military coup was executed by General Augusto Pinochet and the Chilean Armed Forces on September 11 of that same year. Democratically elected President Salvador Allende was assassinated, bringing his “Peaceful Road to Socialism” to an end and unleashing a brutal wave a terror throughout the country. The coup marked the beginning of a seventeen-year dictatorship.
As supporters of the Allende government, my family and I were persecuted by the regime. We feared for our lives. Thanks to the help of generous friends and the hard work of Canadian churches, unions and human rights organizations, we were able to leave Chile and settle in Canada in 1974. I dedicated the next ten years of my life to support the resistance movement against the dictatorship. Then I became involved in educational work with First Nations communities across Canada.
In 1989, the Chilean military dictatorship was replaced by a lukewarm democracy. The neoliberal economic system and the 1980 Constitution imposed by Pinochet were left intact and the dictator himself remained as Head of the Armed Forces and Senator for life. It was a change, but not the one that I and many others had wanted. The socialist Chile we had fought for so fiercely had eluded us once again.
I turned to my writing. I collected the poems and stories I had written along the years and also began to write new material. In the early nineties I decided to take a stab at publishing my work. That’s how my poetry collection GUERRA PROLONGADA/ PROTRACTED WAR was launched into the world, followed by my book of short stories AND A BODY TO REMEMBER WITH and the novels RETRIBUTION and ATACAMA.
3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?
It depends on the genre. Poems and short stories tend to come quickly, but are often followed by days, weeks or months of rewrites. In the case of my novel RETRIBUTION, the concept came quickly, but the execution took many years and the final product had little resemblance to the early drafts. ATACAMA, my most recent novel, involved considerable field and archival research, which resulted in copious notes and attempts to incorporate such research into the story. The first draft and the final product ended up looking similar, but closer scrutiny reveals that I made important changes to the book, mainly regarding character development and some parts of the plot.
4 - Where does a poem or work of prose usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?
Again, it depends on the genre. A poem or a short story are discrete units that in time may become part of a book. A novel is a book from the very beginning.
5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
I love doing public readings and preparing for them – choosing the poems, story or novel excerpts I will read, practising by reading aloud and timing the presentation. Sometimes I add singing to my readings because I love music and I love to sing. Also, I believe that a bit of singing here and there helps to keep the audience engaged. Preparing for and doing a public reading helps my writing as the process forces me to stop and look at my work from a different vantage point.
6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?
To me, writing is a political act. I came to understand the connection between language and power early in life through both my work in basic literacy education with marginalized communities and through my readings. From Paulo Freire and the Popular Education movement I learned that language is not a neutral means of communication, but rather a powerful tool and at times, a loaded weapon. That the oppressors have used it since time immemorial to keep large sectors of the population subdued and to explain and justify their actions. That the oppressed can and do use it as a tool for liberation: to name the world, reflect upon it, exchange stories and ideas, and articulate the actions they can take towards building a better world for all.
From Eduardo Galeano, Pablo Neruda, Gabriela Mistral, Alfonsina Storni, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Luisa Valenzuela, Gabriel García Márquez and many others, I learned that meaningful and affecting stories (and poems) can also depict and denounce the realities of an unjust society, while presenting visions of a different, more equitable one.
7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
For me, to write is to protest. To write is to remember. To write is to bear witness. To write is to denounce. To write is to provoke and to propose. To write is to use the tool, the weapon called language in pursuit of justice; so that horror can turn into beauty, shame into dignity, and deceit into truth. This is particularly true in these times of unfettered neoliberal capitalism, when the one per cent continues to accumulate riches, while a good part of the world’s population lives in abject poverty; when half the world is on fire and the other half, under water; when exported and internal violence and wars, in addition to climate catastrophes, are pushing millions of people out of their territories and into unwelcoming, desperate situations.
This may sound like an enormous responsibility for a writer to bear. It is. It may also sound like a burden. In my case, it is not because I enjoy the challenge of translating-transposing the chaotic nature of Life and The World into the linear, orderly nature of language; of exploring the dialectical relationship between my characters and the places/circumstances they live in; of telling their stories in the context of the societies and realities in which they are inserted.
I come from a country and a continent where writers have been killed, imprisoned and tortured for what they write; where their books have ended up in a pyre; where their publications have been banned. For the last forty-seven years I have lived in a country where the stories and cultural practices of the original inhabitants of the land were banned for decades. I applaud their resistance to assimilation and their determination to keep their traditions alive; their skill at mastering the colonizers’ tools – their languages and their literary forms, to release their stories into the world.
Silence is also a language – the language of imposed or internalized oppression. In my opinion, the role of the writer in today’s world is to break that silence.
8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?
I don’t find the process of working with an outside editor difficult, but I do find it essential. In my experience, respectful, skilled and sensitive editors have helped me to identify aspects of my manuscripts in need of attention and have also guided me through revisions.
9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?
The best piece of advice I give myself and offer to my creative writing students is a lesson I learned through my own experience: if you feel like what you just finished writing is a masterpiece, set it aside for a few days and read it again. Most likely, you will find out that it is not a masterpiece and that it will need to be revised over and over and over and over again… and again…
10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to short stories to journalism to the novel)? What do you see as the appeal?
Most often, I am engaged in several kinds of writing at the same time. Poems and short stories may “happen” impromptu, even when I’m in the middle of another project. Most often, I put those initial drafts aside until I get around to deciding whether it is worth my while to work on them or not.
As not all content fits the same form, it has not been hard for me to move between genres. Elsewhere I have said that my poetry is mainly inspired by elements such as memories and/or sensory stimuli which, in my experience, befit poetic language. Similarly, depending on the scope and depth of a narrative, my prose will become a short story or a novel. In general terms, journalistic reporting and analysis deal with socio-political or cultural affairs, while essay writing explores the world of ideas; and so on and so forth. This means that if I’m working with different content, I must move between genres. This is a challenge that I enjoy as it keeps me alert.
11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?
When I’m working on a long-term project, I go through periods of uninterrupted writing (if I have been fortunate enough to get a grant or a residency). During those periods I write every day for about six hours, take a break and then do revisions for about two more hours. If I’m not in the financial position to write uninterruptedly, I adapt my routine and work around my other jobs (most often teaching and journalism).
12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?
If I’m working in English and my writing gets stalled, I begin to transpose what I have written into Spanish; or the other way around. Inevitably, this switch in languages opens my brain and body to new sensitivities, ideas and forms of expression.
13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?
The aroma of burning firewood. I was born in Valdivia, a city that Pedro de Valdivia, the Spanish conqueror, founded in 1552 on the banks of a wide, blue river in the south of Chile. I grew up surrounded by ancient forests and in the company of patient rain. Just like everyone else in Valdivia, my mother cooked on a woodburning stove, which also provided heat to the rest of the house. So, to me, from an early age the scent of burning firewood became synonymous with “home.”
14 – David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?
My inspiration for writing poetry comes mainly from images, smells, flavours, textures, memories, words, feelings and thoughts. Personal stories and their interplay with socio-historical issues and events inform most of my prose. I love certain types of music, dance and visual art, all of which have found their way into my writing.
15 – What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?
I love reading literary fiction and poetry. Once in a while, I also read memoirs and literary non-fiction. I particularly admire and enjoy the work of the following writers and poets (in no particular order): Arundhati Roy, Eduardo Galeano, Gabriela Mistral, Julio Cortazar, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Alfonsina Storni, Pablo Neruda, Cristina Peri Rossi, J. M. Coetzee, Elizabeth Hay, Jumpha Lahiri, Richard Wagamese, Rita Wong, Monteiro Lobato, Jorge Amado, Luisa Valenzuela, Miguel Hernandez, Alice Munro, Nancy Richler, Wayson Choy, Margaret Atwood (except for her science fiction), Margaret Laurence, Rohinton Mistry, Sandra Cisneros, Joy Kogawa, Michael Crummey, Canisia Lubrin, Oscar Hahn, Clarice Lispector, Omar Lara, Miguel de Cervantes, Virginia Woolf, Jorge Luis Borges (particularly his poetry and realist short stories), Doris Lessing, Nicolas Guillen, Gillian Slovo, and too many others to list.
16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Write and choreograph a ballet based on music and dance from an array of cultural traditions.
17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?
I have done many things in my life. I have been a teacher, a professor, a popular educator, a basic literacy instructor, a workshop facilitator, a journalist, a radio host, a secretary, a social and political activist, a janitor, a cleaning lady, a cook, a musician, the script writer, narrator and director of a video on basic literacy instruction, a writer of educational materials, a dancer, a theatre actor… and a writer. I am also a mother and a grandmother. To me, one occupation or activity does not exclude the others.
18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Please read my responses to questions 2 and 17.
19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Book: Medicine Walk by Richard Wagamese.
Film: Carlos Saura’s Tango.
20 - What are you currently working on?
A bilingual collection of poetry.
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