Sign language

Luis Gusmán’s literary work challenges the innocence of narrative, opposing the very act of storytelling itself. His writing carries a legacy of suspicion rooted in the works of Flaubert and Joyce, while engaging with the malicious speculation of Macedonio and Gombrowicz. The influence of Borges is evident, particularly in his exploration of polarity, which finds expression in two recently reissued novels: Dos extraños and Ni muerto has perdido tu nombre, both published by Edhasa. These texts introduce a language that writes and connects to the tremors of society, operating through different levels of engagement. This approach anticipates Gusmán's broader poetic vision, as exemplified in his story “Poses”, where he describes himself as “a thief of stamps, a profaner of sacred images.” His work suggests that every decision leads to gain on one side and loss on another, creating a disorder of possibilities and a commentary that pulls readers away from the dominant realism under this ruthless capitalism. Gusmán’s friendship with Ricardo Piglia, marked by their exchanges over email, reflects a deep intellectual bond shaped by shared experiences. Their conversations took place amid discussions of banned books, with Gusmán often shielding them from the realities of family, homeland, and property hidden behind the counter of the iconic bookstore Martín Fierro. Their camaraderie was also infused with humor, as they would take walks with Juan Salvador Gaviota, amusing passersby along Corrientes Street. Their relationship was built on calculated fiction that undermines conventional narratives. In one such exchange, Gusmán recalled how Borges fascinated him with his relationship to language, its proliferation, and chance occurrences. He recounted calling María, wife of singer Luis Cardei and inspiration for the protagonist of Dos extraños, who reminded him that Luisito had died on June 18. This led to a discussion about the origins of the phrase “50 primaveras and 50 abriles,” attributed to Quevedo and Góngora, though Gusmán questioned why April is considered the cruellest month in Western poetry, citing T.S. Eliot. He then posed the question: What is the cruellest month in Argentina? He answered, “In the heart of June.” Gusmán further elaborated on the significance of June, recalling historical events such as the bombing of Plaza Mayo on June 16, which killed 300 people, the execution of General Juan José Valle on June 12, and the surrender of Malvinas on June 10. He noted that Borges passed away on June 14, prompting him to travel to Geneva to visit his tomb. Before reaching the grave, he encountered a bronze sculpture modeled after Michel Butor, a writer associated with the Nouveau Roman movement. Though the statue stood outside the cemetery, Gusmán found it intriguing. His visit to Joyce’s tomb, too, became a lost experience, echoing Joyce’s own sense of disorientation. Returning home, he reflected on other notable deaths in June, including that of Gardel and the recent passing of Indio Solari. All these moments, he argued, point toward the role of signs and the questioning of representation, akin to the themes explored in detective fiction. The conversation continued with questions about the nature of signs versus symbols, and whether everything in Gusmán’s life was a sign pointing to deeper truths. He described his childhood home as filled with signs, where imagination ran freely. He spoke of sounds from the radio, stains on walls, and the possibility of spirits playing pranks. These were not mere symbols but signs that pointed beyond themselves, leading to new inquiries. His reflections drew parallels to Borges as a young boy and teenager, suggesting a continuity between past and present in his artistic vision.