The Censors: A Bilingual Selection of Stories

by Luisa Valenzuela, Hortense Carpentier (Translator), J. Jorge Castillo (Translator)

The Censors is the only bilingual collection of fiction by Luisa Valenzuela, one of Latin America's best known and most widely translated authors. This selection of stories from Clara, Strange Things Happen Here, and Open Door, which delves into the personal and political realities under authoritarian rule, gives a rich representation of her literary talent.

Genres: Short Stories, Fiction, Latin American, Spanish Literature, School, Literature

255 pages, Paperback

First published July 1, 1992

About the author

Luisa Valenzuela is a post-'Boom' novelist and short story writer. Her writing is characterized by an experimental, avant-garde style which questions hierarchical social structures from a feminist perspective. She is best known for her work written in response to the dictatorship of the 1970s in Argentina. Works such as Como en la guerra (1977), Cambio de armas (1982) and Cola de lagartija (1983) combine a powerful critique of dictatorship with an examination of patriarchal forms of social organization and the power structures which inhere in human sexuality and gender relationships.

Reviews

[Glenn Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Having read and loved Luisa Valenzuela's Black Novel with Argentines some years ago, I was thrilled to come across this collection of short stories. I enjoyed every single piece but the title story particularly resonates with me and I wanted to give this story its own write-up as per below. Spoiler alert: my review covers the entire story, beginning to end.

THE CENSORS
Poor Juan: All he did was write an innocent letter, “the letter that now keeps his mind off his job during the day and won’t let him sleep at night.” In a police state the fifth horseman is fear, spinning unfortunate citizens down into pits of imagined excruciating future pains of torture chambers, cramped prison cells, interrogation rooms and work camps - paranoia as a diabolical spinning top wearing people down into obedience and total submission, to the point where they even begin to say 'thank you' to their persecutors.

No Stone Unturned: Juan realizes words themselves will not be the issue; rather, “he knows that they examine, sniff, feel, and read between the lines of each and every letter, and check its tiniest comma, and most accidental stain.” The ultimate totalitarian iron fist - condemning men and women not for what they say, but the way they say it; not for their action, but just thinking about acting (of course, the secret police and their ilk claim to know what their citizens are thinking); not only who they are, say an artist, musician, dancer or writer, but just the way they look or walk or sip their coffee.

State Justice: “He knows that all letters pass from hand to hand and go through all sorts of tests in the huge censorship offices and that in the end, very few continue on their way.” In so many words, guilty until proven innocent; or, even if innocent, not permitting the letter to be delivered since, who knows what will happen once the letter is received by the subversive (and all citizens by secret police standards are subversive on some level or in one way or another).

Community Torture: “Usually it takes months, even years, if there aren’t any snags all this time the freedom, maybe even the life, of both sender and receiver is in jeopardy.” Another evil trick totalitarian governments ruthlessly work to their own advantage: not punishing the perpetrator but the perpetrator’s friends and loved ones. A citizen might take chances to act against the state if only their own skin is at stake, but knowing the welfare of others would be in jeopardy really stops the would-be agitator like a very tall, very wide brick wall.

Team Player, One: “Well, you’ve got to beat them to the punch, do what everyone tries to do: sabotage the machinery, throw sand in its gears, get to the bottom of the problem so as to stop it.” Juan applies to become a censor and is hired on the spot. And for good reason: with all the letters citizens pen, more and more censors are always needed. The agency knows very well new employee are on the lookout for their own letter and will therefore work that much harder in snapping up the letters of others. As Nietzsche said, no one makes a harsher slave driver than a former slave.

Team Player, Two: Juan feels at peace working in a department where explosives can go off in your face at any moment. “It’s true that on the third day, a fellow worker had his right hand blown off by a letter, but the division chief claimed it was sheer negligence on the victim’s part. Juan and the other employees were allowed to go back to their work, though feeling less secure.” Ha! “Allowed to go back to work” as if working under such highly dangerous conditions is a privilege. And also so predictable: the injury was the victim’s own fault. The ironclad truth pronounced by any police state: the victim is always at fault; by definition, all state action is the right action, absolutely, at all times and in all places.

Team Player, Three: So after hours one of the men in that department tried to organize a strike. Juan didn’t join in; rather, Juan reports the guy and receives a promotion. Juan feels a sense of pride as he climbs a rung on the ladder of success. Ah, success! This speak volumes to Juan’s shift of self-identity: Juan the Censor. Just what the state wants, another shinny, efficient cog for its sinister state machinery.

Team Player, Four: More promotions and Juan’s work as a censor becomes all consuming; he’s shocked at the way letter writers attempt to pass on subversive anti-government messages in ways most subtle and conniving. On some occasions Juan takes to peering through a magnifying glass and at other times an electric microscope to examine the letters’ microprint. His dear old mother urges Juan to go out for some fun entertainment but Juan always declines, judging such fun activities, so called, as frivolous distractions from his job.

Ultimate Dehumanization: Luis Valenzuela, imaginative artist that she is, puts yet another devastating spin on her dark, cautionary tale, ending with the lines, “He was about to congratulate himself for having finally discovered his true mission, when his letter to Mariana reached his hands. Naturally, he censored it without regret. And just as naturally, he couldn’t stop them from executing him the following morning, another victim of his devotion to his work.”


Reading the fiction of Argentina's Luisa Valenzuela is to take a walk on the dark side. A world-class author with such a penetrating understanding of human nature and culture.

I feel especially connected with the author’s finely rendered tale since I spent many years as a young man working in an insurance office. A world not exactly of government censors but, as the saying goes, close enough for government work. So close, I wrote my own cautionary tale I’d like to share:

OVERTIME
For many years Neal Merman commuted back and forth to his place of work like the others. It was to an insurance office, a room with blank walls, linoleum floor and forty desks under naked florescent lights. Coming in with regularity, Neal performed the job of an everyday clerk.

This mechanical routine shifted abruptly, however, when Neal became part of his desk. First, the desk absorbed only two fingers, but by the end of that afternoon, his entire left hand was sucked up by the metal. And the following morning Neal’s left leg from the knee down also became part of his desk. So it continued for a week until the only Neal to be seen was a right arm positioned beside a head and neck on the desk top.

When the other clerks arrived in the morning, all of them could see what was left of Neal, head down and pencil in hand, reviewing a file with utmost care. To aid his review, Neal would punch figures into his calculator fluently and with the dexterity of someone who knows he is total command of his skill. Such acumen brought a wry smile to Neal’s face.

One day, Big Bart, the department boss, came by to check on Neal’s files. “Your work, clerk, is better and better, although you are now more desk than flesh and bones.”

“What files do you want me to review today?” Neal asked, still scrutinizing some figures.

“Not too many files, clerk, but enough to keep you.” Big Bart withdrew and Neal followed him with his eyes until his boss could no longer be seen.

Later that same day Neal’s right arm faded into the metal. Then, like a periscope being lowered from the surface of the sea, his neck, jaw and nose sank down, leaving his eyes slightly above the gray slab. Neal looked forward and saw his pencil straight on – a long gleaming yellow cylinder with shiny eraser band at the end. Over the pencil, his telephone swelled like some giant mountain. Hearing the phone ring, Neal instinctively reached for the receiver, but this was only a mental gesture. Neal felt his forehead sinking and closed his eyes.

[Sentimental Surrealist · Rating 5 out of 5]

Of course I was gonna love this. Creepy, wry stories that slide in and out of time, which allows them to play with my conceptions of when a story should start and end, kinda political, nigh-mythical touches to keep things rolling along. Leaves me with a prickly feeling whose precise source I can't quite identify but very much appreciated. If only I could speak Spanish!

It's a shame this author has been buried so deep. These stories are wonderful. Shoutout to Aubrey and 500 Great Books By Women for making me aware of this!

[Alex · Rating 4 out of 5]

For fans of Kafka, Cortazar, Borges

I am a teacher. Here in Michigan, schools are closed for the next three weeks to slow the spread of coronavirus. The eerie feeling elicited in the following section of the final story resonated with me, though it goes without saying that avoiding illness through self-imposed social distancing is not at all the same as avoiding violence under a totalitarian regime.

Our life is quiet enough. Every once in awhile a friend disappears, or a neighbor is killed, or one of our children's schoolmates - or even our own children - falls into a trap, but that isn't as apocalyptic as it seems; on the contrary, it's rhythmic and organic. The escalation of violence - one dead every twenty-four hours, every twenty-one, every eighteen, every fifteen, every twelve - ought not to worry us. More people die in other parts of the world, as that deputy said moments before he was shot.

It would be insensitive to belabor the analogy. We are not suffering under a man-made atrocity (though perhaps the current catastrophe might have been better contained if not for ostrich-headed individuals and institutions). But the dread of being closed-in upon is visceral. And if certain administrations under certain orange-glow leadership have adopted the attitude appearing in the concluding sentence of the above excerpt, we can at least take solace in its final clause. Stay healthy, everyone.

[Jackson · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'll give something 5 stars if it's worth reading again, that's a pretty high bar to meet for me. These stories I probably have no choice but to read again because they were somewhat bamboozling, and yet they were very impressive and enjoyable to read, and I have a feeling they'll be worth some effort.

[Stephanie]

Excellent! Wonderful stories in a number of styles. I particularly enjoyed how Curbstone Press made the edition bilingual: every left page has the original Spanish and every right page has the English translation. I wasn't always on board with particular word choices, but this is the only way I would ever have been able to discover the subtle nuances they masked. A very handy way to improve your Spanish!

[Matt Miles · Rating 5 out of 5]

The stories that deal more obviously with The Dirty War are particularly hard to read now, especially since the atrocities recorded are not as far from most US readers (then or now) as we would like to think. For that, and also for the unmistakable touches of humanity Valenzuela spreads in every story, no matter how dark, I believe we need stories like hers now more than ever.

[Kenneth Benka · Rating 5 out of 5]

"The Censors" has got to be my favorite short story of all time. Short, and sweet with a dangerous message about the destructive power of conformity.

[Jamie Barringer (Ravenmount) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a great story collection. The stories reminded me a bit of Borges or Ray Bradbury, very well crafted and engaging, with some fun twists. I also had fun practicing my Spanish by reading the Spanish side of each page out loud to my cats while following along in the English. I'm not sure how much I learned, but my Spanish pronunciation is a bit better after so much practice. :)

[Rebecca Annie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've only read "The Cencors" but this is a vaugely creepy but mainly hilariously ironic story that left me laughing. Keep in mind I read this for school when I was bored out of my mind so my perception might be a bit screwed.

[Ang]

Argentina

[annaspratt · Rating 4 out of 5]

simple but symbolic. i really liked it. only complaint is how juvenile some of the language is, but apart from that it was a light easy read.

[G · Rating 5 out of 5]

Positively chilling.

[Alisha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Only read “The Censors”.

[Noelia Frappe · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lo leí para un taller de escritura creativa.
Lo cual, no le quita el mérito de ser interesante y atrapante. Es un relato que merece ser releído y pensado, leerlo entre líneas y leerlo al revés. Me encanta.

[Amytiger · Rating 3 out of 5]

This review is entirely dedicated to how much I love The Censors for it being the shortest homework assignment I had in tenth grade English.

[Elizabeth☮ · Rating 3 out of 5]

interesting and eclectic collection of short stories. valenzuela is argentinian and writes about a government that terrorizes the people. particularly relevant as i just spoke with someone from argentina prior to the '08 election and was briefed on the lack of choice in that particularly country. one of the reasons the family fled.

[Jules · Rating 4 out of 5]

leí 2/14/22