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Little Joy: Selected Stories (Semiotext
The best of contemporary Argentine author Cecilia Pavón's short stories.
Poet, writer and translator Cecilia Pavón emerged in the late 1990s as one of the most prolific and central figures of the young Argentine literary scene--the so-called "Generation of the 90s": artists and writers whose aesthetics and politics were an earnest response to the disastrous impact of American-exported neoliberal policies and the resulting economic crisis of 2001. Their publications were fragile--xeroxed, painted on cardboard--but their cultural impact, indelible.
A cofounder of Buenos Aires' independent art space and publishing press Belleza y Felicidad--where a whole generation of soon-to-be-famous Argentine artists showed for the first time--Pavón pioneered the use of "unpoetic" and intimate content, her verses often lifted from text messages or chatrooms, her tone often impish, yet brutally sincere. Fellow Argentine poet Marina Yuszczuk once wrote, "Pavón's writing is filled with minor illuminations and conjectures; her syntax is the syntax of commas, 'buts, ' and disjunctives, thoughts and impressions organized into a current that flows, branches off, and stands still."
In 2015, Pavón's first volume of collected poems, A Hotel With My Name, was published in English. Contemporary writers in the US, Australasia and Europe discovered a deep affinity with her work. Pavón's protagonists, Ariana Reines noted, "are absolute women, guileless dreamers, saints in sneakers, on sidewalks, in jail, in Zara, on buses, in nightclubs, in bed."
Translated by Pavón's own poetic protégé Jacob Steinberg, Little Joy collects the best of Pavón's short stories written between 1999-2020, originally published in three volumes in Spanish.
Poet, writer and translator Cecilia Pavón emerged in the late 1990s as one of the most prolific and central figures of the young Argentine literary scene--the so-called "Generation of the 90s": artists and writers whose aesthetics and politics were an earnest response to the disastrous impact of American-exported neoliberal policies and the resulting economic crisis of 2001. Their publications were fragile--xeroxed, painted on cardboard--but their cultural impact, indelible.
A cofounder of Buenos Aires' independent art space and publishing press Belleza y Felicidad--where a whole generation of soon-to-be-famous Argentine artists showed for the first time--Pavón pioneered the use of "unpoetic" and intimate content, her verses often lifted from text messages or chatrooms, her tone often impish, yet brutally sincere. Fellow Argentine poet Marina Yuszczuk once wrote, "Pavón's writing is filled with minor illuminations and conjectures; her syntax is the syntax of commas, 'buts, ' and disjunctives, thoughts and impressions organized into a current that flows, branches off, and stands still."
In 2015, Pavón's first volume of collected poems, A Hotel With My Name, was published in English. Contemporary writers in the US, Australasia and Europe discovered a deep affinity with her work. Pavón's protagonists, Ariana Reines noted, "are absolute women, guileless dreamers, saints in sneakers, on sidewalks, in jail, in Zara, on buses, in nightclubs, in bed."
Translated by Pavón's own poetic protégé Jacob Steinberg, Little Joy collects the best of Pavón's short stories written between 1999-2020, originally published in three volumes in Spanish.
- GenresShort Stories
224 pages, Paperback
Published April 20, 2021
8 people are currently reading
131 people want to read
About the author
Cecilia Pavón
51 books83 followersCecilia Pavón (Mendoza Argentina en 1973) es una escritora y artista argentina. Vive en Buenos Aires desde los 90, donde se licenció en Letras por la Universidad de Buenos Aires.
En 1999 fundó junto a Fernanda Laguna la galería de arte y editorial Belleza y Felicidad. Publicó los libros de prosa Nomadismo por mi país, Los sueños no tienen copyright, Once Sur, Pequeño recuento sobre mis faltas y Todos los cuadros que tiré; y los libros de poemas Diario de una persona inventada, 27 poemas con nombre de persona, Un hotel con mi nombre, Querido libro y La libertad de los bares, entre otros.
En 1999 fundó junto a Fernanda Laguna la galería de arte y editorial Belleza y Felicidad. Publicó los libros de prosa Nomadismo por mi país, Los sueños no tienen copyright, Once Sur, Pequeño recuento sobre mis faltas y Todos los cuadros que tiré; y los libros de poemas Diario de una persona inventada, 27 poemas con nombre de persona, Un hotel con mi nombre, Querido libro y La libertad de los bares, entre otros.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
May 13, 2021
Enjoyed this alot. Many lovely passages were highlighted. Like Charlotte of “SATC”, can start off hollow but then surprise you w poignancy. One essay was a love letter to her house - “I have a theory that those happy moments gradually build up, unseen, on the walls, forming a kind of sediment of love that transforms spaces and elevates them.” I’ll definitely return to some of these essays over the course of my life.
June 20, 2021
Two short passages from Little Joy:
*
If I always feel like what I write about doesn’t matter to anybody, that my writing is bad, that my style is bad, that it’s full of errors in syntax and grammar, that it’s a waste of energy that will never move anybody other than me and my own ghosts (even though I secretly hold out hope that it will affect the ghosts of others, too), then what am I meant to do in this space where everything is about showing off how well I write?
*
Furthermore, today we no longer consider ourselves at all similar to what in the past was called a subject. (Subject to what?) There is no longer anybody who feels isolated or stuck in their own head, as many people felt in centuries past. We are all connected by invisible links, because the second-most important thing after fashion is conversation.
*
If I always feel like what I write about doesn’t matter to anybody, that my writing is bad, that my style is bad, that it’s full of errors in syntax and grammar, that it’s a waste of energy that will never move anybody other than me and my own ghosts (even though I secretly hold out hope that it will affect the ghosts of others, too), then what am I meant to do in this space where everything is about showing off how well I write?
*
Furthermore, today we no longer consider ourselves at all similar to what in the past was called a subject. (Subject to what?) There is no longer anybody who feels isolated or stuck in their own head, as many people felt in centuries past. We are all connected by invisible links, because the second-most important thing after fashion is conversation.
August 26, 2024
i wish i could've read this in Spanish!
June 2, 2025
Følte nogle gange at jeg selv var forfatteren til den her bog. Må sende hende en mail.
August 31, 2023
A quote from the diary of a friend's grandmother's adulterous diary entry.
"When I walked into X's apartment. I knew that my afternoon was stopping in time. The cramped, cozy space, the view of the river, the silence—so distinct from my own—the simple borders on the wallpaper, the distant echoes, like the roar of a train, the pearl on the handle of those spoons we used to sweeten our coffee, the intoxicating scent of bath soap...I could continue with this list for an eternity or write it a thousand times over, because when I cross the threshold of his house, time becomes winding, softer, and those sensations are ingrained within me in such a particular way. I treasure his belongings; I treasure being able to possess the atmosphere of his belongings, albeit for mere hours. Minutes later, this sensation fades away, but it beats on, latent in some part of me and accompanying me at every moment, as if a second, parallel time had taken possession of my heart, as if I could unfold and be two María Luisas—the same and yet, different"
This excerpt comes from the section called "A Post-Marxist Theory of Unhappiness"
So much for the search that came up nil, the friend scouting her grandmother's diary from start to finish for any instantiation of who is meant by this mysterious "X", what his physical attributes or personality might be or how he composes his movements. The thing is, "X" is not the reason for her grandmother's extramarital affair and she soon comes to find this out. Grandma's purpose was to "possess the atmosphere" she'd meet her co-conspirators in. Love had little to do with it: Multiplying time did, Rearranging interiors did, Coating the resultant multiplicities with affect did; towards infinity; if the space outside time had landscaping done (the basis on which her project is furnished), she came close to putting her organized—married—life on the line for it. Each separate and distinct time its own separate and distinct valence. The civil code made it certain that the punishment for adultery was not lightly executed. She put her faith into seeing her extravagations through to the sceneries (object-oriented infidelity) they held possible.
This is just a short write-up on one of the stories contained in "Little Joy" but I loved them all and I will continue to return to them and, just like that, reaffirm my love for them.
"When I walked into X's apartment. I knew that my afternoon was stopping in time. The cramped, cozy space, the view of the river, the silence—so distinct from my own—the simple borders on the wallpaper, the distant echoes, like the roar of a train, the pearl on the handle of those spoons we used to sweeten our coffee, the intoxicating scent of bath soap...I could continue with this list for an eternity or write it a thousand times over, because when I cross the threshold of his house, time becomes winding, softer, and those sensations are ingrained within me in such a particular way. I treasure his belongings; I treasure being able to possess the atmosphere of his belongings, albeit for mere hours. Minutes later, this sensation fades away, but it beats on, latent in some part of me and accompanying me at every moment, as if a second, parallel time had taken possession of my heart, as if I could unfold and be two María Luisas—the same and yet, different"
This excerpt comes from the section called "A Post-Marxist Theory of Unhappiness"
So much for the search that came up nil, the friend scouting her grandmother's diary from start to finish for any instantiation of who is meant by this mysterious "X", what his physical attributes or personality might be or how he composes his movements. The thing is, "X" is not the reason for her grandmother's extramarital affair and she soon comes to find this out. Grandma's purpose was to "possess the atmosphere" she'd meet her co-conspirators in. Love had little to do with it: Multiplying time did, Rearranging interiors did, Coating the resultant multiplicities with affect did; towards infinity; if the space outside time had landscaping done (the basis on which her project is furnished), she came close to putting her organized—married—life on the line for it. Each separate and distinct time its own separate and distinct valence. The civil code made it certain that the punishment for adultery was not lightly executed. She put her faith into seeing her extravagations through to the sceneries (object-oriented infidelity) they held possible.
This is just a short write-up on one of the stories contained in "Little Joy" but I loved them all and I will continue to return to them and, just like that, reaffirm my love for them.
February 27, 2025
Started this book in the literary heaven of Buenos Aires, and finished it back home still longing to be in Argentina. These short stories are precocious reflections on living life as a writer, with some surreal, imaginative tales thrown in for good measure. You can feel the streets of BA and Santiago clacking beneath your feet, and taste the meriendas at the local cafe. Favorites included "Jeans", "Untitled" and "A Bottle of Vichy Makeup Remover I Stole From a Poet in Berlin".
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews