The Paris Review
Subscribe Current Issue Back Issues Interviews Blog Books Print Series Audio Foundation Events Store About

The Art of Fiction No. 190
The Art of Fiction No. 190
Javier Marias
Issue 179, Winter 2006
Purchase this issue

INTERVIEWER
How do you avoid taking yourself too seriously?

MARÍAS
It’s not a matter of avoiding it. Either you have a feeling that you are important and that you are going to be remembered, or you do not. . . . There is a poem by Stevenson that I translated many years ago in which he calls writing “this childish task.” In the poem he addresses his ancestors, all of whom built lighthouses. He apologizes for not having followed the tradition and for staying at home and playing with paper like a child.
   To think of posterity nowadays is ludicrous because things do not last. Books seem to last more than films or records but even they do not last very long. Now more than ever, we depend on the mercy of the living. When writers and filmmakers die there are three or five days during which, with any luck, the newspapers and the TV devote pages and programs. There is a big fuss, but then you have to wait ten years until there is a commemoration. The moment you are not here to defend your work in interviews, you literally do not exist. There is a penalty.
   Of course, some people are lucky with posterity, or they deserve it. Elvis Presley has been lucky. He is on the minds of many people, including my own, very often. I think Elvis Presley deserves to be remembered very often. But for most, it is not like that. On Faulkner’s centenary, I made a small volume, an homage, to him with a few texts I had written, the poems I had translated, and a text by someone else. The booklet made people from the press take an interest in Faulkner. When they called and asked me about him, I had the feeling that a mediocre writer like myself was doing Faulkner the favor of talking about him. I am not trying to be falsely modest—you always have your heroes and you never will surpass them, never. So, from my point of view, thanks to a mediocre Spanish writer—me—and because of the accidental fact that I was alive and well known, people in Spain read Faulkner. But Faulkner should not need favors from anyone.


Purchase this issue
Read Listen Look



SEARCH     Full Search
E-mail this page | Print | View Cart | Check Out
Selections From the Current Issue
Summer 2010
INTERVIEW
R. Crumb, David Mitchell
FICTION
Katherine Dunn
DISPATCH
Julia Whitty
MEMOIR
Wenguang Huang, Victor LaValle
POETRY
Matthew Zapruder
PHOTOGRAPHS
Jeff Antebi
DNA logo
©2010, The Paris Review
Terms and Conditions Privacy Policy Contact Site Map