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His first short stories were autobiographical to some extent; two were published in anthologies of gay Latinos: “The Two Miracles of The Gringos’ Virgin” in Bésame Mucho ( NY: Painted Leaf Press, 1999), and “My Lessons with Felipe” in Virgins, Guerrillas, and Locas (San Francisco: Cleis Press, 1999). In 1999, he enrolled in the graduate program on creative writing at Columbia University, where he started working on his first novel, Tales from the Town of Widows & Chronicles from the Land of Men (New York: Harper Collins, 2007), which has been translated into seven languages and published in more than twenty countries. It was originally inspired on an article he had read in a Colombian newspaper about a mountain village where Communist guerrillas had taken most of the men away. “What happens to the women who are left behind?” he thought. “They would be virtual widows, made to fend for themselves for the first time in their lives.” Although he knew they could survive without men, what he wondered was how they would go about it, and how this process would transform them as individuals and as a society. His novel is his answer to that question. “Writing my first novel in my second language was not a choice,” he said. “I conceived the idea originally in Spanish., wrote a few pages, but it didn’t feel right. Then I wrote a chapter in English and, though it was clumsily worded, I felt good about it. I realized that English offered me an original, unbiased perspective on the Colombian conflict.”
Tales . . . is currently nominated to the 2008 Lamda Literary Award, as well as to the 2008 Edmund White Debut Fiction Award.
He lives in New York City where he is working on his second novel. “All I can tell you is that it will be about religion, tolerance, and displacement,” he says. “It will have a strong heroine who makes a perilous and life-changing journey. It will be poignant, funny, subversive, and unlike anything you’ve ever read before.”
―Miguel Falquez-Certain
Encyclopedia of Contemporary LGBTQ Literature of the United States, vol. 1, edited by Emmanuel S. Nelson (Santa Barbara, California: Greenwood Press, 2009).
FURTHER READING
Kirsch, Jonathan, “The Feminine Mystique,” The Washington Post, February 18, 2007
“Books Briefly Noted,” The New Yorker, March 19, 2007.
For further information, visit www.jamescanon.com
By MEL GUSSOW
Published: April 8, 1982
FROM his position as a Spanish exile living in Paris, Fernando Arrabal has raised world consciousness about the evils of autocracy, reserving his most invidious antipathy for Franco, as in his devastating play ''And They Put Handcuffs on the Flowers.'' Arrabal is both a satirist and a theater poet, and it is his playfully polemical side that is in evidence in his new work, ''The Extravagant Triumph of Jesus Christ, Karl Marx and William Shakespeare,'' which is in its American premiere engagement at the Intar. Any play by Arrabal is an event, but ''The Extravagant Triumph'' is less than a total success.
In this comedy, as translated by Miguel Falquez-Certain, the author's uncharacteristic target is left-wing totalitarianism. He correlates Castro with Franco (an equation that Castrophiles would certainly question), viewing them as pupil and mentor, dictatorial brothers who share more than a common language. Just as it was safe for Arrabal to return to Spain, he may be persona non grata in Cuba.
Arrabal is, first of all, an anarchist, believing that all government is bad government, and, in demonstration of his thesis, the administration under scrutiny is a ridiculous blend of the quixotic and the chaotic. As played by Ron Faber, Tallarin, the president of an unnamed but instantly identifiable banana republic, has Marxian attributes closer to Groucho's than to Karl's. In fatigues and usually a false beard, with a big cigar affixed in his face, he is a Castro lookalike.
The regime is repressive and self-aggrandizing. The leader's whims come first. Casually he stuffs the ballot box and reneges on campaign promises, while leaning back on his Barcalounger with two red hotline phones, one on each arm. As personal dalliance, he keeps a transvestite in his closet, Naseer El-Kadi, who slides out at the push of a button and poses as an odalisque. Sexually and otherwise, no one is exactly what he seems to be. Even Tallarin is eventually revealed as his own double.
As the story moves afield from its comic-book dictator into a romance between Mr. El-Kadi and a mannish lady spy, it becomes increasingly confused and sacrifices humor. Finally, when a visitor arrives from outer space, the evening ebbs. It is Mr. Faber's portrait of a dictator in disarray that is the comic focus. With his dot-like eyes and dizzy manner, the actor acts if he were drawn by a caricaturist's pen. Physically and verbally, he is an impish clown. However, in the supporting cast, only Thomas Kopache, as the president's double-dealing and masochistic minister of interior, operates on a comparable comic plateau.
http://www.nytimes.com/1982/04/08/theater/comedy-arrabal-view-of-left-wing-dictators.html
