Gas, death and the “pichula” of Vargas Llosa: three keys to the last story of the Nobel Prize for Literature

“I have already forgotten the name of that woman for whom I left Carmencita; He will come back to my memory, no doubt, although if he didn’t, I wouldn’t care either. I never wanted her. It was a violent and passing infatuation, one of those madnesses which destroy a life. For doing what I did, my life exploded and now I was never happy again”writes the Peruvian Mario Vargas Llosa in his last story, The winds.

Written in late 2020 and now published exclusively by Readone could say that this story of just over 50 pages anticipated the recent and highly commented separation of the Nobel Prize in Literature Peruvian from Isabelle Preyslerwith whom he had been in a relationship since 2015. In “Losvientos”, which can be downloaded for free In Bajalibros, the narrator is an old man who travels through a dystopian and futuristic Madrid remembering – or at least trying to remember – a past that eludes him.

And it is that this man, who lives in the same central district of Madrid where Vargas Llosa moved to in June (months before the official announcement of the break with Preysler), the body fails: from memory to gut. It’s a “human ruina living relic from another time, refusing to accept the direction the world is taking. “I’ve lived too long to care if they call me a fossil, Luddite or ‘conservative irredentist‘. I am and will continue to be as long as the body lasts (I don’t think, by the way, that long)“, writing.

The narrator, more than a century old, gets lost in this dystopian Madrid after going to a demonstration to protest against the closure of one of the last cinemas in the city: “I felt something strange in my head, something that later spread throughout my body, like a chill. It was a strange feeling. I touched myself in secret and I had the impression that nothing had happened to me, neither in my head nor in my body. What was it then? And for the first time, and with growing angst, I understood exactly what had happened to me: I didn’t know how to get home. I forgot the address”.

In “Losvientos”, Vargas Llosa breaks down, with humour, irony and a severe critical eye, the vicissitudes of old age in a world which, at the antipodes of the one that the narrator knew, is changing by leaps and bounds. How much of the author’s real life is in this fiction? What clues have you given, at the time of writing, about your relationship with Preysler? What is the explanation – between humorous and scatological – of the title of the story?

“I went to the demonstration for the closing of the Ideal cinemas, in the Plaza de Jacinto Benavente and, as soon as it started, one of these high winds who now attack me frequently. But nobody around me noticedwrites Vargas Llosa at the start of his latest story.

From the first pages, the narrator begins to give clues to these “untimely winds” which, as the reader will soon understand, are only gases, flatulence who attack the main character in stressful situations:In the old man’s bookstore, I had a wind that I couldn’t hide. No one paid attention, except Osorio, of course, who smiled one of his Luciferian smiles and twitched his nostrils for a moment in disgust.”.

As the plot progresses, subtlety is pushed aside as the “winds” become “mud” and, not without a dose of humour, Vargas Llosa reflects on his character’s loss of control over his body: “When I discovered that my panties were full of poop, I was overcome with great sadness. I had felt the winds, of course, but not that I was blowing shit. It had overflowed the underpants and stained the legs. I was turned into a poo-manfrom ass down. I felt very disgusted with myself”.

In 1965, the author of The city and the dogs married with Patricia Vargas Llosa, the mother of his three children, with whom he was in a relationship for half a century until their separation in 2015, when the writer began his relationship with Preysler. after some media scandals, The winds could give a clue to Vargas Llosa’s feelings after his divorce.

“It was heartbreaking for la pichula, not from the heart. Of this pichula which now serves me nothing, except to pee. (…) The abandonment of Carmencita is an episode that still torments me. I never saw him again (…). I could never remember the name of the woman I left Carmencita for“, writes. If one gets carried away by the similarities of the story with the real life of the author, Carmencita would be Patricia and Preysler, the woman whose name she does not remember.

“Every night it seems unbelievable, since I committed the folly of abandoning her, I think of her and remorse assails me. I think there’s only one thing I’m wrong made in life: giving up Carmencita for a woman who was not worth. She never forgave me, of course, I could never befriend her (…). It is the only episode of my distant past that my memory has not forgotten and which still torments me. Every night, before going to sleep, I think of Carmencita and ask her forgiveness.

Beyond the humor and love scandals with which it could be associated, the common thread of The winds is the dilapidated of the body, the loss – in particular that of the memorywhich he defines as “that rowdy swamp” – and, ultimately, the death.

While the narrator loses his last points of contact with a world which, due to its dizzying changes, is already foreign and unknown to him (he complains of the closing of cinemas, bookstores and libraries, as well as the addiction to screens, the imposition of vegetarianism and the asepsis of the new generations before sexual intercourse), he also loses control of his own body.

“Did he come this way? Probably, although I don’t remember. Was it the first time you had one? memory loss so serious? Probably. I didn’t even remember that either“, writes. At any effort or sign of nervousness, your body takes its toll: “I felt my heart beating in my chest and immediately thought of him. heart attack. But after a few minutes I calmed down: it was a false alarm”.

Thus, as the story progresses, the narrator heads towards an inevitable death that he does not seem to fear in any case. You could even say it’s a relief. Without faith in the course of the world, the old man manages to return to his small and humble room – his only refuge – and, more than regretting, a feeling of curiosity of deathas if the only secret which, after so many years, remains to be discovered was finally revealed to him.

“My heart rate increased. To breathe, he had to keep his mouth open all the time. In the darkness of the small bedroom, I thought, frightened: ‘I will die?‘. I had thought about it many times, especially lately, whenever I had a bad feeling.“, writes. You have to read the story to the end to know the answer.

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