The idea of a man in love who walks through the city that belongs to him, but where the city in which he walked with the woman he loved is lost. Because the city is a memory machine. Of course, that lost or absent city also includes other moments of life, not just those associated with a woman, This is how Joyce’s Dublin works …
in the novel, he tries to save her [his
wife], when she become terminally ill, by placing her memories in a machine …
the machine then outlives the man.
But it’s no use, if you leave, your
memories still go with you.
I do not have any photographs of her, only
my memories …
She … hid all the words she knew in her
memory.
Her memory was a breeze blowing in the
white curtains of a room in an empty house.
He hoped the sentences would enter his
daughter’s memory
Like
blocks of meaning.
She had drawn up a map in her memory and
was completing the diagram as they went along.
“It will be necessary to work on your
memory,” Arana said, “there are areas of condensation, white nodes, which can
be untied, opened up.”
They were getting closer to the truth, as
if they could follow the road of the memories of her life on a map.
This is a place without memories, she said.
Everybody pretends to be somebody else. The spies are trained to disown their
own identities and use somebody else’s.
… the white nodes were recorded in the body
like a collective memory …
He imagined the woman submerged in a false
reality, stuck in someone else’s memory ..
You see it there, on the edge of language,
like the meory of one’s house from childhood
He had discovered the existence of the
verbal nuclei that keep remembrances alive, words they had used that brought
back all the pain into his memory ..
He was thinking about the memories that
survive after the body has gone, about the white nodes that stay alive even
when the flesh disintegrates.
… if I try to remember, and the purity of
the memory does not blind me …
I pull events out of live memories …
Widely acclaimed throughout Latin America after its 1992 release in Argentina, The Absent City takes the form of a futuristic detective novel. In the end, however, it is a meditation on the nature of totalitarian regimes, on the transition to democracy after the end of such regimes, and on the power of language to create and define reality. Ricardo Piglia combines his trademark avant-garde aesthetics with astute cultural and political insights into Argentina’s history and contemporary condition in this conceptually daring and entertaining work.
The novel follows Junior, a reporter for a daily Buenos Aires newspaper, as he attempts to locate a secret machine that contains the mind and the memory of a woman named Elena. While Elena produces stories that reflect on actual events in Argentina, the police are seeking her destruction because of the revelations of atrocities that she—the machine—is disseminating through texts and taped recordings. The book thus portrays the race to recover the history and memory of a city and a country where history has largely been obliterated by political repression. Its narratives—all part of a detective story, all part of something more—multiply as they intersect with each other, like the streets and avenues of Buenos Aires itself.
The second of Piglia’s novels to be translated by Duke University Press—the first was Artifical Respiration—this book continues the author’s quest to portray the abuses and atrocities that characterize dictatorships as well as the difficulties associated with making the transition to democracy. Translated and with an introduction by Sergio Waisman, it includes a new afterword by the author.
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