Miro Villar Interviewed

Writer Stephen Cachia Interviews Miro Villar, Winner of the Tivoli Prize for Young European Poets in 1998

Miro Villar (Cee, 1965) is a poet, novelist and literary critic, who writes in the Galician language. Miro Villar will be in Malta during the last week of August to lead creative writing workshops and to present his latest work, including Gameleiros, a beautiful book of poetry and photography.

Miro Villar will be the main guest in Inizjamed’s artistic project “Bliet (u Miti)”: he will be reading his works during a presentation of original literary works and a forum on “Cities (and Myths)” to be held on Thursday 29 and during a literary performance on Friday 30 August. Both events start at 8.30pm and will be held at Couvre Porte in Birgu.

He has been invited to Malta by Inizjamed with the support of NSTS, Bay Street Hotel, the Parliamentary Secretariat in the Ministry of Education, the Birgu Local Council, St. James Cavalier and the world shop L-Arka. For more information about the workshops and about Miro Villar’s public engagements, write to inizjamed@maltaforum.org or phone 2137 6941 or 7946 7952. Inizjamed’s website is at http://inizjamed.cjb.net

1. You write poetry in the Galician language. Do you believe there can be a future for small European languages like Galician or Maltese?

This is quite a difficult question. It is true that another word for “poeta” in modern Spanish is “vate”, which originally meant “fortune-teller”… and it is also true that Galicia is a relatively small region where you can still find people who try to read their future in cards... But what is certain is that premonitions and futurology have never been my favourite subjects! However, to get back to your question, I will tell you that the futures of languages like Galician or Maltese depend very much on what will be decided by the Galician and Maltese people themselves.

There are actually several differences between the linguistic situations of both communities (the main one being that whereas Malta is a young but truly independent state, Galicia is an autonomous region within the Spanish state, with limited self rule). There are also similarities, the most important one being that both Maltese and Galician are “B” category languages in their own territory, and have to compete with “A” category languages which are much more important worldwide: English and Spanish.

In situations of linguistic conflict such as this one, the “B” category languages have to claim their linguistic value day by day. Recent studies carried out by the RGA (Galician Royal Academy) indicate that Galician is actually thriving as a language, but not among the younger generation (those under 25 years old). This means that the Galician language is running the risk of not passing to future generations. I will be explaining this in much more detail when I will be in Malta later on this summer as a guest of Inizjamed.

2. Do Galicians read contemporary Galician literature? What difficulties are there when promoting Galician literature and culture?

There are almost three million inhabitants in Galicia (which has always been a land of emigration and in fact several hundreds of thousands of Galicians live in other countries, mostly Argentina). However research has shown that about half of this population doesn’t read anything. Of the other half, some read only Spanish literature, while the others read in both languages.

In recent years about 1200 books in Galician have been published, all in very limited numbers. However some books of narrative have been very successful indeed, with over 50,000 copies sold. This is not the case for poetry, where the number of copies printed is rarely over 1000. I have proof (which I have often repeated in public) that in Galicia poets write for about 300 readers while the number of poets alive who have published at least one book of poetry, is greater than this! So I know of the paradox that there are more poets than readers of poetry.

Apart from this, Galician literature (like the other peripheral literatures of the Spanish state, Catalan and Basque), is hardly ever translated and the authors (almost always narrators) who are known outside our frontiers, are few indeed. Very little Galician poetry is translated, and this is almost always done for collective anthologies like A tribo das baleas / The tribe of whales (2001) which contains the work of 13 Galician poets from the 1990s in a tri-lingual (Galician/Spanish/English) edition.

But this was a Galician initiative. Foreign publishing houses see the publication of our poetry as too risky. So you can imagine how difficult it is to promote our poetry! I could go on for much longer to explain this, but I will only mention one thing to illustrate my point. In the Galician press (printed in Galicia but with almost all the pages in Castilian Spanish), an editorial in Spanish takes up more space than the news of the publication of a book in Galician. Thus Galician literature becomes invisible in its own country. Recently, on the 17 May, the day dedicated to Galician Art, a declaration denouncing this situation of unequality and disrespect for our language was prepared and signed by writers, editors and publishers from all over Galicia.

Why not? (They say that Galicians always reply to a question with another question.) As Boileau said: “Un sonnet sans defaut vaut seul un longe poeme”. For me, (and I don’t write sonnets only), this is the form of verse which has the most perfect poetic architecture and which is the most lively in the case of all modern languages and literatures. However the purpose of my sonnets (I don’t know how successful I have been in my endeavour) is always to make poetic language as relevant as possible and to talk about our own time. Of course you can’t write sonnets in Petrarch’s manner anymore today!

4. What is the role of the poet (if there is one!) in today’s society, especially after September 11?

Earlier on I said that Galicia is a country with 300 readers of poetry. And I believe that those who read poetry in the world are a minority (wonderful and clever, but still a minority). In such a situation, talking about the “role” of the poet is almost sarcastic. The German poet Arnfried Astel used to say: “The man for whom I write/ reads not”. And I completely agree with him. However this does not mean that the poet should abstain from taking part in the formation of critical thought. Poets who like Narcissus walk about without taking a look around them eventually disappear in their own self-reflection.

These are universal themes, the same as in the case of meta-poetic reflection, “engaged” poetry or the unrecoverable flight of time (‘tempus fugit’), which probably is the most apparent theme in my poetry. And who hasn’t written a poem of love? In fact it’s quite difficult to say something new about a theme that has been universal since the very moment poetic language was born. It is difficult to write about love, which is the world’s great driving force, without using stereotypes, without repeating once or more what others have already written before. Moreover even in the case of a vile person who has loved at least once, speaking of love gives that person the chance to share this sentiment with the rest of the world. And today’s world needs love more than ever.

6. I was greatly struck by your poem “The First Lines”. In this poem you write about creating poetic verses and end by saying that “a fragment of me is born different”. What does this mean?

This verse ends one of the poems from the Abecedario da desolacion (Alphabet of desolation) which was a book written as a catharsis, a result of a personal experience that was quite traumatic for me. The verse tries to show that beyond total destruction, it is possible to start building one’s life once again, starting from each of the fragments that had been left after the destruction. If a bombed city can be built anew, why can’t a person also build up their life again? I think this is always possible. I believe that the suicide of the Argentinian poetess Alfonsina Storni (or any other suicide) means that desperation has won over everything. So the verse is really one of hope in a book full of desolation.

7. In another poem you talk about the Lobeiras Islands. What memories do you have of these islands?

The Lobeiras Islands are tiny, uninhabited islands, located very close to the Finisterrae lighthouse. I was born near this place, which in Medieval times was known as the End of the World, when America had not yet been discovered. All this area, called “The Coast of Death” because of the number of shipwrecks which have occurred here, is symbolically referred to throughout my verses. I was born and raised there. I carry the salt inside me.

8. Another poem of yours is called “My Shoes”. In this poem you say “my shoes…discovered the most intense things”. This reminded me of Lorca who once said that “I am dead! Dead!” and that shoes on the ground showed that death is always very close…is it the same in your poem?

This question delights me and shows that you are a great reader of poetry! That poem comes from the book “Equinoccio de primavera” (Spring Equinox) and of course the reference to Lorca is not a conscious one. In the same book there are other Lorcan references: the title of the poem “O poeta fala por telefono con amor” (The poet talks on the phone with love) (I and II) is actually a verse by the Andalucian poet. And the poem “Chove en Compostela” (It’s raining in Compostela) is very reminescent of one of the six poems written by Federico Garcia Lorca in Galician, entitled “Chove en Santiago”. In this case both my poem and Lorca’s arise from the sense of wonder that the city of Santiago de Compostela had cast upon us.

9. In 1998 you won the first edition of the Tivoli Prize for Young European Poets. What has this prize meant for you?

I always publicly state that all prizes are injust, including when luck is generous with me and offers me one!

The Tivoli prize has meant an important recognition for me after so many years of writing poetry. Above all it has given me the possibility of having my texts translated into nine different European languages. So in addition to a personal recognition, the prize has made it possible for my poetry (originally written in Galician) to be known in many European countries.

I have two immediate plans. First the publication of Gameleiros, a book of photographs by Manuel Alvarez, including poems which I wrote for 27 pictures of coastal fishermen (who work in ‘gamelas’, small boats). Secondly I will soon publish the second in a series of books for children about Carlota, La Marmota (2000).

And of course, in the last week of August I will be in Malta to take part in Inizjamed artistic project inspired by “Cities (and Myths)”.

The interview with Mr. Villar was conducted in Spanish and then translated into English by Stephen Cachia (www.oocities.org/stephencachia)

The full text of the interview appeared in The Sunday Times on 18 August, 2002