Interview with Jorge Remacha Pina

The nonconformist feeling instilled by the poems from Claveles de la calle repeats in the personal outlook of Jorge Remacha Pina (Zaragoza, 1996): the poet opens up in this revealing, gratifying conversation about social poetry, the new generation, the power of religion or the ideal society, among other topics.

SPANISH GAY FICTION: Claveles de la calle is your first published book. How did you make it possible?

JORGE REMACHA PINA: Well, I sent the manuscript to a round of publishers specialized in poetry. Just like sending resumes: you see options, you apply for the ones that seem OK for you, and then you wait until they get in touch. Eventually, the publishing house Libros Indie did: they took charge of layout, printing, and more — and here is the book.

SGF: What influences your writing style?

JRP: It depends on the poems. The ones in the book are a selection of those that I have been writing over the years. For instance, some may sound similar to the Beat Generation because I like Allen Ginsberg much. Then others occurred to me rather reading or listening to other social poets, such as Gioconda Belli, Pedro Lemebel, or Gata Cattana.[1] Other ideas came to my mind by reading science fiction. I think there is a little bit of everything.

SGF: Except for the rhyming poem “MENAs,”[2] no other classical feature can be found in your work. Why did you break away from tradition?

JRP: I think that this is the only rhyming poem because it rhymed while I was creating it, so I tried to keep it that way. The rest do not rhyme as it is not an issue that I care about when writing. For example, I care more about words symbolizing ideas, whether they exist or not. If in my mind I see the images of what I am writing, then even more ideas come … so I keep writing. In the middle of it all, I do not have a head for rhyming.

SGF: The acknowledgement section says that you were picked up “from the darkest alleys of the mind.” What did you mean?

JRP: On the one hand, some poems in the book exist because they helped bring out what is in my mind on a bad streak. On the other hand, I think it is not something that individual: I speak from the youth, working class, sexual diversity perspective. Of course I am talking about difficult psychological situations, because not only have they happened to me, but more people may see themselves in them. This was one of the reasons why I decided to publish the book. Everyone can have a bad time, but if my book — which I wrote to feel better — can help someone feel identified and gather inner strength, then its publication will make sense.

SGF: Your poems encourage to social nonconformity. Is this your own philosophy?

JRP: This is not my philosophy: there is a whole tradition of culture from below and the margins, self-affirming, and linked to ideas that speak in terms of emancipation. I have invented nothing. What lies behind the ideas expressed in this book is a mix of work, study, organization, second-hand books and my condition of being as queer as a three-dollar bill.

SGF: You are under 30. What is your idea of a dream society?

JRP: My dream society does not have social classes or endure oppression: a very old idea that seems to be a kind of trendy again among young people. You can see it in the demonstrations around the world that have erupted in this crisis, in which there are many people my age. My generation is leaving one crisis and entering another. However, I think that pessimism is the last thing that we need, as it is a burden. We are not victims all the time: we can hold on and fight, as it has usually been, so as to always move forward.

SGF: The dull, mediocre reality portrayed in your book is distinctly urban. Do you think that the situation is different in the countryside?

JRP: I speak of the urban world because it is the one I know: I cannot speak of the countryside as I have never lived in a village. I did not write a book like this to say that reality is dull and mediocre, or the world is all peaches and cream: it says that our strength comes from a grey world to paint it pink. The book is called Claveles de la calle because I live next to the backside of a flower shop where at night they throw away what remained unsold: my house has been filled with flowers many times. And all this looked like a symbol to me: they will throw you away if you are not profitable, but you are a flower anyway.

SGF: The book mentions several revolutionary movements throughout history. How inspiring are they to you?

JRP: The ones named in the book are the stories that I have known, and they show that there have been generations daring to try to take control of their own lives. But I like the extras more than the protagonists. I am much more interested in these people — who are nameless in the books — taking to the streets and changing their lives rather than those who lead the revolutions. And also all the tireless efforts before something breaks out, so that it can be a success. Thus, instead of thinking whether I would have liked to live this or that revolution in the past, I would rather know what I am doing if I see something like this happening in the present or future.

SGF: In terms of non-conformist spirit, do you feel that any past time was better?

JRP: I am 23: I do not want to be nostalgic for times past. If there is alienation, I also do not want to blame it to the people or society. This is something that I want the book to show, and I am not sure if I have succeeded: the idea that the vast majority of ordinary people who want a decent and peaceful life have the feeling that they are worth more than what they receive. In addition, you never know what might happen.

SGF: How important is the LGBT community in the fight for a better society?

JRP: Someone has to add glitter to this better society.

SGF: The first lines of the poem “Inapropiadas” come from Mecano’s song “Mujer contra mujer.”[3] What is your opinion about this song?

JRP: This is a song to sing the emotionally charged, flamboyantly camp way. And I think that this is very important, because true hymns are to bring out what is buried putting your hands up. In addition, the truth is that there has been a history of invisibility regarding women who love women. As if they were in not only the closet, but a box at the back of the closet — though a music box.

SGF: How autobiographical is the poem “No sé si queda claro”?

JRP: It may be an autobiographical poem, but not just mine. It is produced with words that you hear because of who you are: they are sometimes more hurtful, at other times more common sense. And I am not the only one who has heard them. I wrote this poem to cheer up even if they are discriminating against you: to get your claws out and regain your lust for life.

SGF: There are numerous symbols and expressions associated with Christianity throughout the book—

JRP: If you attend a convent school you become atheistic in the end, though an absurdly huge list of religious hymns remain in your head. In the book they symbolize the commands from my childhood and how hard it is getting rid of them, as well as a sense of fault, fault, the most grievous fault for things that you are not guilty of. I have studied more religions, and I believe they are something to keep away from all kinds of power over anyone.

SGF: The name “Rockland” appears a couple of times in the book. Why?

JRP: Yes, it is a nod to Ginsberg’s “Howl;” the name is there. Rockland is the asylum where he is sent for sexual deviation, and the way he uses it in his poems echoes inside you. That is why it is in my book: as a non-literal symbol, but a symbol of the places you leave behind when overcoming the danger of disappearing.

SGF: Can you tell about your upcoming projects?

JRP: Now I am promoting this book because, right after it was launched, a pandemic began: I could expect every kind of problems but this. I am also promoting a board game about the labor movement called ¡A la huelga! (“On Strike!”), which was already in stores — and the same thing happened. I picked the best time to launch everything … Meanwhile, I am looking for a job, as well as writing another book and creating another board game for next year: these two will be historical this time.

---

[1] Stage name of Ana Isabel García Llorente (1991-2017). Although she was popularly known as a hip hop singer — a discipline which she put her feminist, politically committed stamp on —, she also published in 2016 her only poetry book: La escala de Mohs (“The Mohs Scale”).

[2] MENAs = Menores Extranjeros No Acompañados (“Foreign Unaccompanied Minors”). With a significant presence in Spain — and mainly of African origin —, this is another social issue that Remacha Pina points to in his work: children and teens, all alone, at serious risk of social exclusion and neglect.

[3] Mecano has been one of the most successful Spanish pop bands of all time. The song “Mujer contra mujer” (“Woman Against Woman”), released in 1988, became a breakthrough at the time since it deals with lesbianism, rarely tackled in music up until then. Today, this hit remains as an iconic hymn for the Spanish LGBT community.

The Cannibal Dynamo

On Jorge Remacha Pina’s Claveles de la calle (“Street Carnations”)

In these critical times because of COVID-19 pandemic — so hard to control by now — we all have heard opposing voices to the measures that governments worldwide are imposing on their citizens so as to overcome the problem: mostly, they claim a drastic change in the state of affairs. It is truly coincidental that this very year has seen the publication of this book (before the pandemic declaration in Spain) consisting of 30 poems: verses free from classical forms, and openly contrary to the rules of the social system. Thus, unexpectedly topical.

We can easily see the first poem, “Juramento” (“Oath”), as a true statement of intent on the main theme of the book: the poet’s commitment to social issues, in favor of the most helpless: the poor, the fallen, the hard working class … Even this statement is extended in another poem, “Nadie está mirando” (“Nobody Is Watching”), focusing on the most disadvantaged: prostitutes, drug addicts, repressed homosexuals, minors undergoing psychological problems, etc.

The reality depicted by Remacha Pina lacks humanity: in “Te Deum,” God is technology: a divinity cruel to mankind who provides miserable working conditions for His servants. “Saben lo que haces” (“They Know What You’re Doing”) expresses the idea of society as a system where individuals are ominously controlled. In another poem, “La vida se abre camino” (“Life Paving the Way”), the poet suggests that today’s lifestyle only leads to making an army of zombies: exhausted workers whose whole bodies ache; in addition, the citizen is compared to a slave in “Yo robot” (“I Robot”): the poetic voice uses expressions related to computing to evince this dehumanization; love is a lost file in the system, and the poet wants to recover it.

The city is represented as a prison where happiness is impossible to pursue: “Sincronía” (“Synchrony”). The noise from the television in “Sosiego encofrado” (“Framed Quietness”) conceals the feelings of all the members of a family; in a block of buildings, each and every inhabitant suffers anguish in their small cubicles. Moreover, in “Pesada sentencia” (“Heavy Sentence”), the monotonous life that society entails could inevitably drive to despair and, in consequence, suicide.

The situation for the youth is no better: “La hormiga más pequeña del mundo” (“The Smallest Ant in the World”) deals with this generation — Remacha Pina’s generation — regarded as the best prepared to success; however, they have precarious, less-paid works. Porn and video chat seem to be the uncomplicated oases in their colorless lives, but this actually shows an obvious lack of affection. In “El viaje del desarraigo” (“The Journey to Uprooting”), the poet portrays weekends for teenagers as chances for casual sex and fast relief, in opposition to schools, factories and juvenile detention centers undermining their desire for freedom: the system does tame. In other poems — “Cuento de sábado noche” (“Saturday Night Tale”), “De vuelta a casa” (“Way Back Home”), “Claveles de la calle II” (“Street Carnations II”) — we can still find other examples of confusion and listlessness in this lost generation: drugs, clubbing, prostitution, sordid sex as an appealing combination for a trip to ephemeral comfort … though no place to call home.

Of course, here in spanishgayfiction.blogspot.com we never miss our goal: there are two enchanting, committed poems dealing with the LGBT issue. First, “Inapropiadas” (“Unsuitable Women”), in which the poet tells about a couple of lesbians breaking social taboos by walking down the street holding hands and kissing. They decided not to follow the traditional rules imposed to women — marrying a man or becoming a nun — and eventually won the fight: the people that used to spit them out on the street in the past, they now step aside. Then, in “No sé si queda claro” (“Not Sure If I Make Myself Clear”), the poetic voice claims that he has been raised with a steady, staggering social objection to his natural way of being: the adult now refuses to keep afraid of not fitting in, or even suffer verbal or physical abuse. And this personal rebellion is precisely a key fact in these compositions: the poet’s indelibly positive attitude, regardless the hostile circumstances.

Remacha Pina, in “Siempre buscando una salida” (“Always Looking for an Exit”), speaks about the compelling need to raise a fist and wave a flag; stand up and light a torch. Fear has been silencing diverse voices for a long time, prompting to a general anger. (We can find a similar idea in “Neurosis:” this mental disorder means, after all, the anxiety caused by the awareness of the actual state of reality, which appeals to defiance). Those who do not conform to the pattern of this world endure contempt, or even aggressions: there is an urging demand to put an end to these social rules, which want to finish with the different ones, in order to seek true freedom. To this end, the author displays inspiring examples from the past. . .

There is a constant remembrance of revolutions throughout the book, but particularly in the poem “Ni cadenas ni corsés” (“Neither Chains Nor Corsets”): the French Revolution, the February Revolution, the Kurdish rebellions, the Paris Commune, the Stonewall riots, the Egyptian revolution of 2011, etc. (As a matter of fact, the poem is dedicated to the international socialist feminist organization Bread & Roses.)

However, the most ruthless skeptics may wonder: What will happen after the tables turn? Well, the last month of the year, “Diciembre” (“December”), implies a metaphor for the end of hard times and the beginning of a favorable adjustment with an excellent result: fruitfulness, like the arrival of spring.

Claveles de la calle is a heartening collection of disturbing, bewildering, awe-inspiring poems with a clear message to the reader: a better life is possible if you just fight for it. Like the panther from “La ley de la selva” (“The Law of the Jungle”) — who grew docile and became another piece of the social gear … but eventually regained her natural self-awareness and turned into a panther again — you are also cordially invited to the revolution.

Interview with David Cantero

Take it or leave it; that seems to be the chief maxim for erotic gay comic book author David Cantero (Cartagena, Murcia; 1972), regarding not only his work but also his life attitude in this unsettling world. Just find out by yourselves.

SPANISH GAY FICTION: As for your work as a whole, you seem to have specialized in erotic comic book. Thus, what led you to create Boxing Julián?

DAVID CANTERO: I have always been interested in sex. I think there is no story without sex. Sex moves the world more than we think! [Laughs.] With Boxing Julián, I wanted to show how difficult it is for some people in this society to live with themselves, with their sexuality.

SGF: How was the response to your comic book?

DC: I had a very nice feedback from readers; some of them recognized themselves in the character, and they shared with me their personal experiences. I felt touched by these testimonies.

SGF: How important is Boxing Julián to you?

DC: My stories are all special to me. Back then, I was very happy with the character design for this comic book. Today, twelve years after, I cannot even look at it! [Laughs.] I did it a long time ago, and now I just see errors everywhere! [Laughs.]

SGF: Have you ever been familiar with a similar situation in real life?

DC: Yes! Unfortunately, it is a pattern that repeats itself too many times in our society ― Maybe not so extreme, but in different degrees.

SGF: Do you think that there is always a tormented homosexual behind a homophobe?

DC: [Laughs.] Not always! But yes! It is usually true!

SGF: The world of fiction has always found boxing appealing as a theme. What is your opinion about this sport? Is there any previous work that has been inspiring for Boxing Julián?

DC: I chose boxing because it is a very manly sport with a lot of physical contact. It is brutal and direct. It fit very well with the character, and it was perfect for channeling his rage. The movie Rocky really helped me, actually!

SGF: Ben’s quiet attitude towards Julián’s aggressive behavior is really painful. Why did not he report Julián to the police?

DC: I did not want to delve into Ben’s nature that much; I just wanted to show a nice guy. We never know if he is gay. . .We never know why he did not sue Julián. . .I like this kind of endings, making the reader think!

SGF: Do you feel that the toxic couple relationship that Lola and Julián represent is still recurring nowadays?

DC: In my opinion, these situations will never end while education and religion still continue to create strong stereotypes for men and women.

SGF: Do you think that Julián will eventually do to Lola what his father did to his mother?

DC: Of course! Even worse! [Laughs.] I had an idea for a sequel to this story, where we would see Julián, Lola and their son twenty years later ― Maybe I will do it!

SGF: You have previously worked in collaboration with other scripters. Why did you create Boxing Julián alone?

DC: In general, I work alone. I have many stories and series. It is rare that I make collaborations. At present, I am (sometimes) collaborating only with Patrick Fillion for the series The Brigayde for Class Comics Inc.[1]

SGF: How would you define your style as illustrator?

DC: My style is a mix of European comic books (such as The Adventures of Asterix), Marvel comic books, and Japanese animation. I am in love with the line; inks are very representative of my style. A definition for my style? Well. . .I do not know. It is just the way I like to draw!

SGF: Julián is a dreaded character; however, his design is really alluring. Did you make this contradiction deliberately?

DC: Sure! There is nothing more disturbing than someone to hate and desire at the same time!

SGF: Are your characters physically based on actual people?

DC: The characters are not real persons; I created them according to their personality. . .I always think of details for the characters because they make them strong.

SGF: Apart from the fact that you were born in Cartagena,[2] I feel a Mediterranean air throughout the comic book. Did you want to depict a lifestyle that you know first-hand?

DC: I created this story when I was living in a village near Tarragona.[3] This place was full of Juliáns!!! [Laughs.] I thought that this background was perfect for the story!

SGF: Can you tell about your upcoming projects?

DC: Right now, I am drawing the episode 7 of the series The Brigayde, written by Patrick Fillion. You can see my working progress at Patreon. This year, I will be working on my series Exodus (Volume 5), and probably Dibearcity (Episode 2). I am also working on my children’s books for my other publisher, La Cantera Editorial: my next book, Sky and Heart, is just in process.

---

[1] Owned and operated by Patrick Fillion and Robert Fraser, this independent comic books publisher has specialized in gay erotic-themed comic books since the beginning of the 21^st century.

[2] This tourist Spanish destination is located in the autonomous community of Murcia, by the Mediterranean south-eastern coast; it is famous for its Roman Theatre, the naval base, and the Carthaginian and Roman parade, among other attractions.

[3] Port city located in northeast Spain on the Golden Coast by the Mediterranean Sea; the location contains significant remains from the Ancient Rome.

The Beast in the Beauty

On David Cantero’s Boxing Julián

This time in spanishgayfiction.blogspot.com we present quite a disturbing experience: a 2008 comic book dealing with the most ultra-violent homophobia.

In the first pages we find Julián, a promising small town boxer achieving an easy victory in a fight; when in the locker room, he is praised by Paco, his boxing trainer, and Lola, his sexy fiancée. When they leave Julián alone, he cannot help jacking off by looking his magnificent nakedness over closely; after this, Julián punches the wall furiously: it means the first indication for the reader that there is something about Julián.

Paco decides to hire the services of Benjamín, Ben; a hot, blond, angel-faced physical therapist. All of a sudden, Julián shows an unexpected rough-and-tumble towards the boy, trying to hide (or should I say making clear instead?) a powerful sexual attraction. From the very beginning Julián wants to leave proof of his discomfort: he likes neither queer nor sassy people who would ever dare to contradict him. Paco will need to mediate so that Ben does not quit promptly after an abrupt, vehement outburst from his protegé. . .resulting in Ben exhibiting his mouth-watering chest after Julián stretched the gorgeous therapist’s tank top.

Lola pays a visit to her man at the gym; the moment she lays her eyes on Ben she openly claims that the cutie is really stunning. Immediately afterwards, Julián calls her bitch and menaces her. After this, he pushes Lola to the restroom, and there he fiercely attempts anal sex ― vainly: Ben is in his mind, so Julián loses his erection. Lola meekly tries to give him a blowjob, but Julián’s reaction is hitting her hard.

After a massage session, Julián asks Ben whether he is a fag; Ben avoids the question. (As a matter of fact, Ben’s sexuality may be the biggest mystery of the comic book.) Later, Julián jokingly encourages Ben to give him a blowjob, but Ben leaves the room all annoyed ― has Ben got tempted to do it, at least for one second?

During a fight, our cocky boxer remembers how his father used to attack him physically and verbally when he was a weepy child; his father justified himself by saying that he hated pussies, and he told his harassed sonny to have big balls to face life. At the end, Julián gives his opponent a cruel beating, and Paco threatens to leave: Julián has to stop fighting that dirty in the ring, since he has been about to finish his rival off.

In the middle of the subsequent massage, Julián bitterly tells Ben to go away: he does not want Ben to see that he has cummed all over himself while Ben was squeezing him.

Through another journey to the past, we see that Julián was witness to his mother’s dying at his father’s hands. Young Julián took hold of his savage daddy’s gun ― he was a policeman ―and shot him. This memory heavily seizes Julián while having sex with Lola, to the point of almost choking her to death. When Lola gets over, Julián apologizes groaningly and tearfully; Lola, mad about her macho, forgives his bad manners.

The time of the final combat is coming, and the prize money will do Julián good for the upcoming wedding ceremony. He keeps teasing Ben with insults such as queer. Like Lola, Ben also forgives and keeps a submissive attitude towards the ferocious fighter.

Julián eventually wins the fight, and they all go out partying. In the disco, Lola asks the psyched-up victor to stop drinking, as it turns him aggressive. Julián tells her to leave with Paco, and Ben promises Lola that he will help Julián be back home safe and sound. At the wee hours of the night, on their way out, Julián gets audacious sneakily and lewdly: he beats and assaults Ben in a dark, lonely place.

The ending of this dreadful story is just terrible. Lola, oblivious to what is happening around her, is making the guest list for their wedding, and she suggests her betrothed to invite Ben. Julián flatly refuses, basing his resolution on Ben’s ultimately leaving him high and dry. The image of a bruised, wounded Ben walking down the street and exchanging glances from a distance with a sinister (and defiant) Julián puts a terrifying end to this troubling story.

No doubt this is a significant story about homophobia and violence, depicted by Cantero in a brutally visceral way. His illustrations are as attractive as disgusting, leading to a flawless portrait of Julián’s double identity: a bewitching object of desire on the outside / a frightening demon on the inside. We find particularly worthy of the most enthusiastic praise the pages concerning Julián’s recalls about his shady past (his monstrous father; his miserable, dummy-like mother); there, red, black and a blazing white are the cardinal, over-suggestive colors to show the ultimate horror.

The design of the main characters is also creditable; the contrast between the pair of hot men, the shiny Ben and the shadowy Julián, smoothly reveals the central conflict of the story. Regarding the details, the tattoo that Julián shows on his arm ― the name of his girl on a bleeding heart pierced by a sword ― is too meaningful about Julián’s darkest instinct, Lola’s cursed fate, and the comic book’s overwhelming lesson: Violence begets violence. In sum, a provocative work of art.

Once Upon a Honeymoon Suite

On Ana Diosdado’s 321, 322

Ana Diosdado
(Buenos Aires, 1938 - Madrid, 2015)

An interesting innovation was posed by playwright (and novelist and actress) Ana Diosdado when 321, 322 premiered in 1991. Unlike Noël Coward’s Suite in Three Keys (1966), or Neil Simon’s Plaza Suite (1968) and California Suite (1976), which showed different occupants of the same hotel suite in each act, Diosdado’s two-act play stages what is happening in both suite 321 and suite 322 at the same time. No, we are not meaning a scenic design split in half; the whole stage represents both suites, so their occupants share the same space (i.e., during performance, the actors playing characters from one suite take no notice of the presence of the others throughout the show).

Regarding what is the predominant interest for us here in spanishgayfiction.blogspot.com, we are going to respectfully ignore the events in suite 321, and focus on what is cooking in the other suite. Let’s take a sneak peek. . .

Jorge and Sara are newlyweds: both young and beautiful and shiny happy at first sight ― what could be wrong with them? They love playing charades envisioning what their marriage would become several years from then. . .and the audience can soon notice through these games an obvious underlying dialogue dripping unexpectedly disillusioned, disquieting thoughts for honeymooners.

Sara seems far from being the typical bride. In her opinion, the wedding has been ridiculous: both her mother and Jorge’s quickly took charge of the plans, preventing the bride and groom from making any single choice. Why the rush after only a three-month engagement? Jorge told his mother that Sara was pregnant; his family is a wealthy traditional family, so the wedding had to be celebrated. Concerning Sara, she does not care; just living with Jorge and remaining unmarried is OK with her, but ― given her working-class background, the in-laws presume that she has married Jorge so as to climb the social ladder. Is she really that ambitious?

The truth is that Sara is not expecting. How could she? They have never had sex with each other. Sara has been waiting for tonight to ask Jorge the reason of his unjustified respect for her all along, as Jorge has already been in the know that she is sexually experienced. Jorge is reluctant to answer but, after Sara’s strong insistence, he shyly admits his genuine virginity. His wife finds it peculiar, so she suggests whether Jorge may not like women at all; Jorge gets serious and claims that he does indeed. The wife gives in (for the time being) and blames his unspoiled status on his mother’s hidebound influence. This controlling lady even makes an urging call to her sonny that night: Thou shalt not covet thy own wife. . .until she gives birth!! On account of the official version stating that Sara is only at her second month of pregnancy ― Just do the math. Now that the bride and groom can enjoy the sweet advantages of marriage, Jorge wants it to happen pronto; as if it were about a surgical intervention the patient is hoping to end soon. . .

Another of Jorge’s singularities is that he usually interacts with an invisible St. Bernard called Buby. According to him, Buby sleeps every night at the foot of his bed, and tonight is no exception. Sara has always been understanding and gone along with Jorge, but she also wonders whether this delusion of his should last much longer ― It seems to be the night of disclosure, so Jorge reveals that Buby truly existed in real life; his late father gave it to him when he was a child, and some years later a truck ran over poor Buby and. . .Back then Mother explained that heaven is no place for canines, therefore Jorge determined that Buby would stick around, though unseen. Sara gets emotional, and you can see in her disposition that she will never try to change her husband’s mind again; Jorge sees her resolution as a bigger act of love.

Jorge’s life goal was becoming a professional musician, but his mother persuaded him to get a degree in business administration instead; furthermore, an occupation in the family business and a brand-new sumptuous flat are waiting for him after the honeymoon. As long as they stay together, Sara does not mind Jorge’s career decision. On the contrary, Jorge feels that his wife got captivated by the flawless property acquisition, exposing her feigned attitude of unselfish girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Straightforwardly, Sara questions her husband whether he believes that she is a gold digger. Jorge does not bother to deny; then Sara breaks out and asserts that his only aim is acting as a regular heterosexual guy in his mother’s eyes, since Jorge secretly loves his gay friend Chema ― What a bomb! Jorge gets incensed; he opts to take Buby for a walk, and the woeful wife shuts herself in the bedroom.

Later, Jorge comes back to the suite under the influence, seeking after Sara into the bedroom. After a while, Sara emerges furiously: she condemns Jorge’s disgusting macho behavior there in, as if he needed to prove his cojones. Jorge suggests that they would rather pretend nothing happened and give it another shot; Sara agrees. . .but this time she will leave the bedroom all disenchanted.

Subsequently, Sara remembers how gleeful Jorge looked the happy occasion when they two and Chema danced avidly all together; now it is about time that Jorge must choose only one dancing partner. Eventually, Jorge confesses that he has been in love with Chema; Sara reacts proposing a separation. He worries about scandal, and vows to be always faithful. But now Sara is positive that Jorge got married because this is a much comfier position for him than an openly gay relationship;[1] she recommends Jorge to quit the family job and go on tour with his band, of which Chema is also a member. Some months later, when Jorge will be back, they can discuss their future; right now he must leave Sara alone in the suite and book another one ― tomorrow he shall take Sara back to her family home.

All is over for this young couple. . .Or at least that is what it seemed; before tomorrow comes, Jorge enters back the suite determined to talk Sara into not throwing in the towel for now. Jorge agrees about the tour, but with a difference this time: one band member less ― yes, that one ― and for good. Sara is finally at ease now; so the reunited are ready for their first breakfast together as a married couple. . .and Buby can wait outside. THE END.

However ― what will become of these poor guys? Why should Sara trust that her husband will never break his vow? How can Jorge be sure that he will never fall for another man again? Are they really going to make each other happy, or devastatingly frustrated instead? Well, life is too complicated ― we all should agree about that. While we keep caught in this web of mingled yarn, Diosdado’s characters decide to put the ill aside. It might only take the time they are enjoying their breakfast, but no one can refuse to this pair their right to esteem that they have found Prince Charming in each other for a while ― the rest of their lives? Not our business.

We are not going to conceal that we have an annoying feeling with this play. Jorge’s homosexuality is more or less subtly related to an absent father and a possessive mother; thus, Jorge is depicted as quite naïve and confused. . .He even stays friends with an invisible dog from childhood now in his twenties! ― No problem so far: a positive picture of a gay man does not need to portray a kind of absolute superman. But we find rather controversial the idea that his sexual orientation is just a childish stage from which one could get over with the little help of a regular woman with a down-to-earth viewpoint that Sara (arguably) represents. We are dealing with a piece of literature from the last decade of the 20^th century here; not too distant from our times and customs ― that is why we expect a less therapeutic, more normalized treatment of the topic.[2]

Anyway, our reading might be much more serious than what Ana Diosdado could probably expect when she wrote the play: the stage directions suggest an unreal atmosphere, so let’s think that the author was, just like her creations, fooling around.

---

[1] Remember the fact that 321, 322 premiered in the early 1990s, when same-sex marriage was a still-to-be-legalized right to fight for.

[2] We can find a similar situation in Diosdado’s script for a popular Spanish TV series: Segunda enseñanza (“Secondary Education”), 1986. In episode 8, “Tabúes” (“Taboos”), a female student, Sisi (Aitana Sánchez-Gijón), expresses her feelings for her female teacher Rosa (Ana Marzoa); in response, Rosa hopes that Sisi’s homosexuality is just a teen phase that she is just going through ― if not, the girl will have a friend in her, in any case.

Interview with Antonio Heras

Fetishism, pornography, self-publishing, prejudices ― and sports! They are some of the issues that Antonio Heras (Jaén, 1979) talks about with regard to his gay erotic collection Un blanco fácil. Please be our nosy guest.

SPANISH GAY FICTION: You have opted for self-publishing. What advantages and disadvantages do you find in this way of publishing?

ANTONIO HERAS: I was very reluctant at first. I wanted to become a writer the conventional way: supported by a publishing company. And they did for some years; Armado de impaciencia (“Armed with Impatience”),[1] my first book, was published in 2014 by a traditional publishing company. And in 2016 a company specialized in e-books launched my novel Tus palabras sin sentido (“Your Meaningless Words”).[2] However, when these contracts were over, I decided to launch these two books on my own. On one side, to try my luck; on the other, to enjoy more control and information over the product contents, ways to reach the reader, etc. I liked the adventure, though in the last few months I am up to move my books from Amazon to Lektu,[3] a platform that seems to be friendlier to both users and authors. In short, my experiences in both self-publishing and traditional publishing do not differ much: the sales were way low on both occasions.

SGF: How was the creative process of Un blanco fácil?

AH: I uploaded the title story of the collection as an experiment. People bought and I got driven. “What if I add another story?” Thus, I recovered a couple of old stories, and people kept buying. Then I said to myself: “What if I add another story for every purchase?” And that is what I did ― though there was a moment when more than twenty stories had to be included, so I stopped. Anyway, it helped me assemble the current collection ― which finally consists of nine stories (some produced just for the book) ― and I really loved the experience. My idea was that the original purchasers could update their eBook, but I am afraid that it has been impossible for some people, and Amazon has not offered me the right solution. In any case, if these readers ask me, I will send the complete book. Besides, the printed book, that some friends of mine have been demanding, will be for sale in some weeks.

SGF: Nowadays accessing to visual material with pornographic content is easy and usual, and most users do it for the sole purpose of getting horny. Does erotic fiction just fulfill the same function?

AH: Generally speaking, I think it plays a different role. Or at least it has a different sense of timing. If someone wants to jerk off, they just need to search for videos or pictures online: there is a world of massive pornography at their disposal. Conversely, literature needs something else from the reader; it requires more attention, and it is not that straightforward. It can work for getting excited, of course, but in a different level, I guess; perhaps more up in your mind rather than down in your underwear. Quality in literature is hard to achieve, no matter the genre; as an author, I have learned not to cry with anger and impotence every time I read my writings again.

SGF: There is a common denominator in all the stories: gay eroticism. However, each story belongs to a distinctive genre, as a means to avoid reiteration at any cost.

AH: That is right; in my stories I wanted to avoid a succession of clichés and topical scenes: they meet, they fuck, the end / they meet, they fuck, the end. . .As an author, I had a wonderful time mixing genres on the common base of eroticism; I wish the same to the reader.

SGF: Is there any author or piece of erotic fiction that you esteem as an example in your writing?

AH: I do not usually like reading erotic literature; at least, not the mainstream. However, I remember Almudena Grandes’s The Ages of Lulu[4] ― a brilliant novel ― and also the works of Marguerite Duras, Henry Miller. . .I do not know whether they can be considered as erotic fiction writers, after all. Perhaps they can. Oh, wait! I almost forget the immense Marquis de Sade (whose painful depravation is beyond words), Dennis Cooper, my favorite (living) author, and Jean Genet, my favorite (dead) author.

SGF: Does gay erotic fiction have a wide audience?

AH: My works do not sell well. If I had to live off my book sales, I would have died from starvation years ago.

SGF: There is a common leitmotif throughout Un blanco fácil: the sportsman and his equipment. How important is fetishism in creating erotic fiction? What is your personal attitude towards fetishism?

AH: Fetishism can be a very useful tool for erotic fiction, indeed. Whatever it seems, I am not quite kinky; I choose the person rather than the object.

SGF: In the title story you pun on the real names of famous footballers. According to you, why has no elite footballer come out publicly at this stage in the game?

AH: It is a shame that no foremost male footballer has opened out about a sexual orientation different from heterosexuality in our days. The blame may fall on sponsors and football clubs mainly, but also some mossbacked supporters (at least, the prevalent voices on the media). Anyway, this is an individual choice; the courage to show your self should be stimulating enough. Elite sportsmen from many other disciplines came out DECADES ago, serving as big examples for generations of fans of all ages. In a society in which football is such an important and popular and profitable business, a top-level footballer daring to make the first move would be a turning point. I know no case in real life other than a famous event that happened years ago: there was a player ready to come out on the cover of Zero magazine,[5] but they said that his club eventually prevented him from doing it.

SGF: And the reason why you selected the names for your characters from the list of Real Madrid CF players is. . .

AH: The reason was truly banal: they were just the ones that I felt physically attracted to the most; at least, the late 90s/early 00s squads. Besides, I found funny the double meaning in blanco fácil.[6] The story was originally written for a website in which users romanticized about the hottest footballers of the hour, and they even produced (mostly pornographic) stories about meetings in locker rooms, showers, etc.; to sum up, jerk-off material. A couple of years ago, while searching for other stuff on my computer, I accidentally found the file and occurred to upload it online.

I do not like laughing at anyone by branding them as gay; for me, that is a homophobic, counter-productive attitude. The theory that homophobes are repressed homos underlies too latent homophobia, and it really does not help the LGBT cause at all.

SGF: The story “Homo Sci-Fi,” in which the female character is flicking the bean while peeping into two guys having sex, reminds me of a trend in American erotic fiction: women writing M/M fiction for other women mainly. Why has not this movement repeated in our country?

AH: I honestly have no idea. I think that it is an interesting kind of fiction; it reminds me of the yaoi and bishōnen concepts: erotic and romantic Japanese comics featuring gay boys whose main audience is young girls.

SGF: Regarding the story “El cuarto de la plancha,” imagination helps break the barrier between the labels homo and hetero. Do you believe that human beings are actually bisexual?

AH: I feel that personality and closeness are key facts in sexual attraction; in that sense, there may be a moment when that presumably self-imposed barrier dividing your likes and dislikes might fade away.

SGF: In “Con-tacto” you depict a common place in erotic fiction: getting fondled by a stranger at the subway. Have you ever experienced it by yourself?

AH: Yes, it happened to me once, but I spare you my reaction.

SGF: Concerning the story “Hermanos,” have you ever known of any case of brother-brother incest personally?

AH: No. If I knew, I would not see it disgusting; I would try to get to know them ― though I would feel a kind of awkward, or curious about their living through it, no doubt. I think that this issue is still quite taboo, at least in our society.

SGF: In “El colgante,” when the male protagonist has sex with his friend, you say: “It is his pureness what he likes the most; there is nothing artificial around him. Nothing surrounding him, squeezing his body; there are no watches or necklaces, no earrings or makeups” ― Can it be considered the very author’s declaration of principles?

AH: No, there is usually no declaration of principles in my writings; not that clear, at least ― there must be principles, for sure, though accidentally ―. Anyway, it is the character’s thoughts what is shown in that quote. He seems to have a too narrow view of the circumstances around him; it may be a sexist, or at least patriarchal, view. Connecting falseness to the image of a woman is something absurd and old-fashioned: from ancient times, almost from original sin.

SGF: You work as a member of the protection staff in a museum. If any given day you had to face a situation like the one narrated in “Artistas terroristas,” what would be your reaction?

AH: People who must handle visitors daily in their workplace know from experience that surrealist situations are commonplace, and you meet people who could inspire a short story or a short film, at least. In “Artistas terroristas” I tried to invoke a recurring fear: visitors trying to damage the exhibited works in a fit of madness ― though they do it in such a strange way in my story. In that case, my reaction would be like anyone else’s, I guess: I would get scared and use my walkie talkie to call the security guards.

SGF: The portrait of a sexy man with a small penis in a non-negative, non-problematic way seems to be a taboo in erotic fiction.

AH: Hot men with small penises, with no six-packs, of a certain age. . .There are so many taboos and prejudices, and we must break them all down; not only in erotic fiction (not only in general literature, in fact) but also in real life, in the way we interact with the others.

SGF: Tell us about your upcoming projects.

AH: I have finished a vampire novel full of blood and glitter, now being tested by beta readers. If everything goes as planned, it will be launched after summer. If published by a company or myself (in that case, it would be on Lektu), that remains to be determined. Besides, during this quarantine period I am back to another unfinished novel; it deals with criminal investigation and investigative journalism on serial murders in a small town where corruption is king. I hope that the draft will be completed this month or the next one. Also during this confinement I have finalized the script for a web series, and the filming could start this year. I keep managing my two blogs as well: Armado de impaciencia and Gayumbos Ezine. And I will continue to upload unpublished material on Lektu.

---

[1] This short story collection won publishing company Luhu’s 1^st queer literature contest award.

[2] Romance novel set in the 19^th century London.

[3] New online marketplace for selling digital (mainly e-books) and physical products with the aim of becoming a meeting point for the rights of authors, publishers, and readers.

[4] Original title: Las edades de Lulú, 1989. Grandes’s first published novel, astonishingly successful back then, is a highly-praised erotic narration about a woman’s sexual awakening. A homonymous film based on the book was released the next year.

[5] Spanish LGBT-themed monthly publication, extremely popular during the first decade of 2000s, which served as a suitable platform for coming out nationwide. The cover boys? From show business celebrities to priests and soldiers; quite a stink in certain circles.

[6] The pun has already been explained in the post reviewing the book (footnote 1).