INTRODUCTION

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Susan Smith Nash

This anthology of Paraguayan women writers is the culmination of more than two years of

focused research and investigation into the nature of Paraguayan history, culture, and art, with

special emphasis on literature. It has been a fascinating project because I have sought to gain a

view of the social, literary, historical, and cultural context in which the works have been produced.

This has required a great deal of reading, research, and study of literary texts, history, newspapers,

tracts, and all types of documents produced in Paraguay on Paraguayans. In addition, I have

learned the basics of Guaraní grammar, and have studied the type of Spanish used by Paraguayans

to better comprehend the regional and local expressions. Finally, in the 12 or so visits I have made

to Paraguay since November 1996, I have made a point to meet with the women authors (who have

become very close friends) to conduct interviews and to participate in as many of the workshops,

gatherings, book fairs, readings, and book presentations as possible.

The selections contained in this collection have been made after carefully reading the works of

the authors and choosing ones which represent their work, women's lives, Paraguayan cultural

issues, unusual genres, and certain techniques or literary trends. Of course, the selections also

reflect my personal taste and preferences, and my desire to select work that will give

English-speaking audiences an idea of the depth and quality of the literary output of Paraguayan

women.

In choosing how to translate, I opted for a "transparent" or "fluent" style (using terms coined

by Lawrence Venuti at Temple University). However, at times I deliberately preserved syntactical

idiosyncracies in order to maintain the "otherness" of the text and to refrain from domesticating it

completely. Although I believe that some texts, particularly the more surreal or postmodernist

texts of Renée Ferrer or Luisa Moreno de Gabaglio actually require a more non-representational

translation style, such as the styles used by Paul Blackburn in his translation of the French

troubadour poets, or Louis Zukofsky's jazz-influenced translation of Catullus, I decided not to run

the risk of offending those who may not be familiar with that type of translation, which in reality

constitutes as much a philosophy as a style.

In addition, I have chosen to absolutely ignore the "New Critics" stance to translation that bases

itself on examinations of the text and nothing more. I have even allowed the writers themselves to

analyze my draft translations and have listened carefully to their suggestions. Also, I have paid

great attention to extra-textual elements, such as individual biographies. By learning about the

folklore and indigenous myths, and by visiting many of the places referred to in the text, I have

been able to better understand how certain representations have been rendered. Thus, my word

choices and phrasings have evolved over the course of this project.

This is not the first literary translation project I have undertaken, but it has been by far the

most enjoyable. In my master's thesis (completed at The University of Oklahoma), I included a

section of translations from Spanish to English of the poetry of Mexican poet Sor Juana Inés de la

Cruz. In the critical introduction, I included a section discussing various theories about literary

translation, drawn from my graduate research and coursework. Later, I studied Bolivian literature

of mining, with special emphasis on the representation of women and social control. I partially

translated Antonio Díaz Villamil's La Niña de sus ojos in anticipation of my Ph.D. dissertation

research, until I changed my emphasis and decided to focus on apocalyptic narratives instead.

While the dissertation research did not have a direct bearing on translation, it prepared me to take

a "systems" approach to textual analysis, and to relate literary texts to historical and cultural

documents, and to supplement all work with personal interviews and correspondence. In 1998, my

translation of Susy Delgado's Close to the Fire was published in a trilingual edition (Guaraní,

Spanish, English). I was happy with it primarily because I felt my work honored the work in a way

that could only result after many interviews, in-depth research, and extended personal

correspondence.

My primary objective in preparing this document is to introduce English-speaking audiences to a

body of work that is largely unknown, and rarely included in anthologies. While the quality of

literary output is very high, and the dedication of the women unflagging, the country has been

largely overlooked by English-speaking literary critics or potential translators. Eventually it would

be good to see the work of the women translated in entirety, and a series of bilingual versions

published. For now, it is very gratifying to be able to present a comprehensive body of work that

provides an excellent overview of trends in contemporary Paraguayan women's writing.

Unfortunately, I could not meet all women writing in Paraguay, and this collection, by necessity,

contains the work of women who made a special effort to participate in interviews and to correspond

with me. Of course, I would like to continue the work, and so I would like for all readers to

consider this an introduction and not a judgment call on my part.

Of all the women authors represented in this anthology, it is perhaps Renée Ferrer who most

directly addresses the issue of Alfredo Stroessner's 35-year dictatorship and its impact on the

psyche and collective consciousness of Paraguayan artists and writers. A prolific writer of essays,

novels, short stories, and poetry, Ferrer explores many themes in her work. These include identity

construction vis-a-vis the protective masqueraded selves used to manage oneself in a dangerous

world, the internalization of censorship, corruption (on both a governmental and personal level),

women's roles in society, and the love/hate relationship between the victimizer and the victimized.

In her stories, the characters take risks in order to discover themselves and their limits.

In a very revealing interview, Ferrer talked about her own need to take risks during the 80s,

when General Stroessner was going to extreme lengths to control all dissident literature and

reporting. As a writer, Ferrer explained that she had to deal with subject matter so controversial

that its publication could mean her arrest and even disappearance. She suffered panic attacks and a

general collapse from the stress, but still her determination continued to drive her to continue to

question the legitimacy of artistic repression. Her experience is described in the essay which came

from a hand-written letter sent to me in the summer of 1997, as well as being echoed in most of her

work, of which I have tried to select a representative few. Ferrer is widely acknowledged as an

important writer in her own community, and her works are widely praised. Outside Paraguay,

Ferrer's reputation has been growing over the last few years, with critical articles being published

the U.S. by such critics as José Delgado Costa, at Ohio University. Much of the attention has

focused on Ferrer as related to the literature of exile, as the recent The Short Story Technique of

Renée Ferrer: Continuity and Change in Our Expression by Gloria da Cunha-Giabbai, published in

1997.

Social protest and cultural critique also characterizes Angélica Delgado's work, but hers is from

an ecological perspective. Delgado, journalist and environmental activist, directly addresses the

need to preserve Paraguay's cultural and ecological heritage. Ironically, her strategies for

preserving the culture and lands of Paraguay at times echo the isolationism expressed in Paraguay

since the time of the 19th-century dictator, Dr. Francia, who closed the borders and kept Paraguay

sealed off from the rest of the world. The fluidity of her writing is unusual, and her bilingual verses

(Guaraní-Spanish) incorporate the rhythms and complex noun structures of Guaraní. Her work

affirms the orality of Guaraní, and preserves the intimacy of poetry which creates a private space

vis-a-vis the public space of more "commercial" discourses such as journalism or political

propaganda.

María Luisa Bosio received her education in Asunción, where she dedicated herself to the study

of languages, particularly English, French, and Portuguese. In addition, she studied literature and

history, and is a member of various writer's workshops. Her work investigates the secret or the

hidden in women's lives, and there is a great emphasis on the way that mystery is introduced into a

woman's life. Mystery, in the Catholic sense of the word, suggests the ineffable, unexplainable, and

is perhaps related to the rhetorical sublime. In this regard, Bosio's work corresponds to a definable

body of work in contemporary Paraguayan women's writing having to do with the representation of

the mind in a state of awe or heightened awareness.

Lita Pérez Cáceres, a highly-respected journalist in Asunción, specializes in short stories that

have the clarity of Hemingway's short stories or of Gertrude Stein's novels. She was born in

Asunción, but moved to Argentina with her family. After returning to Paraguay in 1965, she

continued her education in literature and journalism. Her short fiction has won various

competitions, including "Veuve Clicquot" and "Challenger." In certain ways, her style is

reminiscent of Mexican short story writer Juan Rulfo, but her unwillingness to impose closure and

the cinematic quality of the descriptions evoke French New Wave writer Alain Robbe-Grillet. She is

much more intimate and ironic than Robbe-Grillet, however, and the reader immediately recognizes

that Pérez is skilled postmodernist who utilizes the absurd in order to call into question the values

of the dominant culture. Specifically, P_rez deals with women's dilemmas and marginalization. In

many of her stories, including the ones published here, the protagonists break free of dismal,

mind-numbing, identity-robbing lives. Their breaks for freedom are almost always grotesques that

celebrate the often weird path one takes in the construction of a new identity. Poignant, intense,

and very much an excursion into boundary areas where convention and limits are transgressed,

Pérez's stories ask the reader to consider the possibility of a short story with multiple potential

resolutions, and a narrative form that keeps moving forward even after the story itself has come to

an end.

The poetry of Raquel Chávez -- highly mystical, transcendent, contemplative -- is not overtly

political, nor is it a literature of protest or a critique of societal conditions. In this sense, it is quite

unusual in the context of contemporary Paraguayan women's writing. Her focus is on the moment

of transcendence, and on the process by which the mind obtains an awareness of self, and the

differences between external and internal realities. Sometimes evocative of the French symbolist

poets, particularly Rimbaud, in the need to examine the struggle to represent the soul, and to

investigate what constitutes, in a poetics, the notion of an individual soul. Her use of the first

person reinforces the heuristic, self-discovery process, and her motif of the journey is utilized in

exploring the various manners in which consciousness is uncovered. Although more Buddhist than

Catholic, Chávez's' poetry aligns itself within the discourse of transcendence that is practiced widely

in Paraguay, especially in relation to the prayers and devotions surrounding the saint day of the

Virgin of Caacupé and other religious holidays, such as Holy Week (Semana Santa). Her work is as

much a philosophy as a poetics, as is the work of many of the Paraguayan women writers, such as

María del Carmen Paiva and Gladys Carmagnola.

María del Carmen Paiva was born in Asunción, where she received her education and began to

write poetry and participate in various writing classes and workshops. Her work explores many

themes that are dominant in twentieth-century South American literature, particularly that of

solitude, and its counterpart, exile. Exile as a state of mind is a notion that is dissected with

philosophical rigor in her poetry, which can be categorized as minimalist. For her, the transition

state between conscious rationalism and a more unconscious intuition are important. She often

invokes the "siesta" as the place where that transition stage is explored, and it is in precisely that

carefully preserved Paraguayan tradition that many of the fascinating boundary states arise.

The siesta -- typified by a retreat and relief from oppressive heat, facilitated by the slightly

narcotic effects of terer_, an herbal beverage drunk through a metal straw from a cowhorn cup -- is

a living, breathing alternative to the use of night as the primary place where dreams and symbol

systems intrude themselves onto waking thought. Translating her work poses a number of

difficulties because the ambiguities expressed are not easily rendered in English, particularly if one

is trying to effect a "fluent" or relatively literal translation. For example, one stanza in her work

can be rendered two (or more) ways: "I invent a ship of stone / so it will never sail" or, "I invent a

ship of stone / so I will never navigate." A more Zukofskyesque translation style would honor the

ambiguities more fully, but it is difficult to justify such an approach since the decision was made to

follow a more conventional translation approach, one which privileges the denotative rather than

the connotative, and which tends to be more literalist than one that stresses the feeling, tone, or

"color" of the original.

Dirma Pardo Carugati writes screen plays as well as short fiction, and her writing has an

unmistakable cinematic quality. Teacher and journalist, Pardo was department head for the

Colegio Internacional and columnist for "La Tribuna" newspaper. A member of several writing

workshops, she writes short fiction which have been adapted for screenplays. One of her scripts

was used in a feature-length movie filmed in Paraguay. The recipient of numerous awards, she

lives in Asunción. Many of her short stories deal with extremely sensitive topics, especially as they

relate to the lives of Paraguayan women. For example, in "The Evening and the Day," the

protagonist is a rural Paraguayan who earns a meager living for herself and her family by making

and selling "chipa" -- a bread containing cheese, corn, oil, cumin, and other ingredients, which is

typically sold first thing in the morning to people on their way to work. With unflinching honesty,

Pardo describes a life that is brutally true-to-life among the Paraguayan working class -- a

one-bedroom "rancho" housing a woman, her companion, and her eight children; an abusive male

companion who contributes little or nothing to the household; the overwhelming responsibility of

merely feeding the children. In addition, she confronts a painful stereotype -- that of the rich,

white female outsider inevitably of European or North American descent who is barren of womb, but

rich of purse. With her wealth, the chronically depressed foreign woman seeks to acquire (buy or

"adopt") one of the Paraguayan women's children. Instead of being an act of benevolence, charity

or human understanding, the foreign woman's desire to adopt the child seems rapacious and

self-interested. This is certainly a reflection of one attitude held by Paraguayans who view with

deep misgiving the flood of Americans trying to adopt Paraguayan babies. In fact, stories are

frequently run in daily newspapers about women who are arrested for selling babies (their own or

those of desperate single mothers) or about the unscrupulous adoption market that is no more than

a veil for the harvesting of children's organs for transplants for rich Americans. The fact that

these accounts have all the earmarks of urban legend does not do anything to mitigate the

psychological realities which are reflected in Pardo's work.

Although María Eugenia Garay was born in Asunción, she lives in the U.S. Her work was

included because it deals with many of the themes that characterize other Paraguayan writing, such

as the role of women, women's choice, and the development of feminine autonomy of thought and

action. Garay was deeply marked by the civil war which resulted in Stroessner's rise to power and

the Colorado Party's domination of Paraguayan politics for more than 50 years. Her father's family

was a part of the "Opposition" during the 1947 civil war which resulted in the out-migration of a

large number of Paraguayans, primarily to Argentina, but also to the U.S., Brazil, and other

countries. To this day, a number of cities are considered to be "Opposition" cities. One is

Villarica, an agricultural center famous for its elegance and its traditional industries (farming,

textile production, artisanwork).

Luisa Moreno de Gabaglio studied to become a doctor in Veterinary Sciences, graduating in

Asunción in 1976. Her poems and short fiction (both in Guaraní and in Spanish) have been widely

published and she has been the recipient of numerous awards, for her writing for adults as well as

for young readers. She is a member of the Taller Cuento Breve writing workshop. Moreno is a

fascinating writer whose works are explorations into the limits of human endurance and psychic

pain. Often surrealistic, her stories concern themselves with the representation of madness as a

new way of knowing.

Through a set of perceptions reconfigured by horror, Moreno's short stories may be well

analyzed by means of 20th-century Russian critics, such as Todorov and Bakhtin, whose theories

about the generic forms of the "fantastic" or the "carnivalesque" demonstrate how the grotesque

serves to create a narrative form that allows for transformation. Moreno's characters are often

victims of themselves -- of their curiosity, their greed, or their hunger for violence. And yet,

without the catalyst of the Paraguayan unknown -- often the Chaco (where Moreno was raised) --

the characters maintain their equilibrium, and their behavior stays within the norms dictated to

them by their cultures. Moreno's characters exhibit the rapacity of interlopers seeking to plunder

what they consider a "brave new world." Without exception, they leave behind victims; usually the

innocent and defenseless (an indigenous woman's infant, newborn carpinchos in the Chaco). As an

interesting aside, Moreno's prose presents great difficulties to the translator, because there are

many ironies embedded in her word choices -- choices that are often difficult to render in English

and preserve the layers of meaning.

Emi Kasamatsu was born in La Colmena, the first Japanese colony in Paraguay. La Colmena

was established after World War I, when Japan fell into a deep recession which was particularly

hard on farmers. This exodus of Japanese farmers to the relatively hostile regions of South

America (Paraguay, Bolivia, Brazil, Peru) resulted in an important stimulus to the agricultural

industry. However, the culture shock was profound, particularly for those who attempted to

preserve Japanese traditions in the new surroundings. Deeply influenced by the multicultural

atmosphere, she continued to explore the two cultures when she moved to Asunción to major in

Philosophy and Letters at the Universidad Nacional de Asunción. She later moved with her

husband, a diplomat, to Tokyo and Washington, DC, where she took classes in art, ikebana,

Japanese painting, Asian religions and philosophy. Her work has received awards, and she is a

member of several writing workshops.

Gladys Carmagnola's poetry has been characterized as domestic and prosaic, appearing in stark

contrast to the often florid lyric of her literary antecedents. The themes are of everyday life, of the

lofty dreams of Everyman. Carmagnola's poetics posit a space for the Paraguayan "Everywoman"

whose dreams sometimes seem to arise in inverse proportion to her actual ability to attain them.

In fact, this is a theme in Paraguayan women's writing -- the woman whose life is completely bound

by domestic ritual, societal constraints, and financial limitations, who finally escapes from her

personal penitentiary and explores the land of dreams and of the taboo. In fact, the subject of jails

-- primarily psychological -- recurs throughout Carmagnola's poetry. In the context of Paraguay,

particularly the Stroessner-era Paraguay (when many of her poems were written), it is difficult to

keep from drawing the conclusion that for the average woman, life was extremely limited, with few

options. Carmagnola's poetry is a poetics of transcendence and spiritual escape, but outside the

Romantic tradition. For Carmagnola, transcendence is achieved by means of domestic ritual and

the careful observation (and appreciation) of the elements of quotidian life.

Rosana Berino, an attorney in Asunción, writes poetry that reflects the socio-political realities of

post-1947 Paraguay. She writes of betrayal, avarice, power, ambition -- elements that are the

traditional elements of the classical tragedy, but which take on more resonance and immediacy

given the ongoing internecine bloodshed, including the assassination of Vice-President of the

Republic of Paraguay Luis Argaña in March 1999. In contrast to the work of other Paraguayan

women poets, Berino's poetic diction is elevated, and the ethos is one of a tribunal that, with

courage in the face of immediate danger of reprisal, denounces the most powerful and exposes him

(almost always male) for his betrayal of his office, his family, his wife, his people.

Maybell Lebron was born in Cordoba, Argentina, but raised in Paraguay. Her work has won

several awards, including First Prize in the competition, "Veuve Clicquot." She is also a member of

the Taller Cuento Breve writing workshop. A strong sense of justice can be found in her work, and

they have the impact of a medieval morality play, which functions to restore order to a troubled and

out-of-balance world. She explores with precision the relationship between the various members of

a family, and she recreates the dynamics that drive the strong and sadistic to prey upon the weak

and defenseless. Naturally, the psychological drama and tensions that one finds within such

situations are echoes of the culture at large, and relationship between society's strong and its

weak. While her work falls more into the realm of realism, her use of motifs and repetitions of

colors bring to mind the work of F. Scott Fitzgerald, particularly in The Great Gatsby or Tender is the

Night. Hers is a narrative of psychological extremes, and of personal triumph -- how a Nietzschean

self-overcoming leads to the ability of the small and weak to finally prevail, and to prevail with

dignity. Lebron's poetry also bases itself on highly effective metonymies which she can reiterate

and recast stanza to stanza, bringing a polyphonic complexity to the work, simultaneously talking

about society, relationships, states of being, and psychological realities.

Neida de Mendonça's short stories are often celebrations of the marginalized and overlooked

segments of the Paraguayan population, and they provide a rare opportunity to gain insight into the

daily lives of people who are often ignored or exploited. Her techniques are simultaneously

traditional and postmodern. In some of her stories, such as the one in this collection, her narrative

style is more or less based in realism. In others, the narrative style is surrealistic, almost fantastic,

and reality is always called into question. Realism limits the characters -- they are essentially

trapped in their destinies in a terrible, exploitive world that offers little hope of escape or

transcendence. In the surrealistic world, escape is achievable when the limits of the real are called

into question and the characters begin to shape their own destiny through the force of their own

imaginations. In both genres, Mendonça utilizes readily identifiable characters and places from

Paraguayan culture, which gives the work a unique sense of place.

Lourdes Espínola's feminist poetics have found expression in a number of her collections of

poetry, some of which have been translated into French. Deeply influenced by American feminist

criticism, Espínola lived for a number of years in Texas, where she studied literature and obtained

a degree in dentistry. While in Texas, she joined a number of writers groups where the newly

emerging feminist erotic writing was beginning to be discussed. After returning to Paraguay, she

continued to write erotic poetry in which she challenges traditional notions about the relation

between sexuality and art. Instead of using sexuality as a motif for union and transcendence,

Espínola uses it as a politics of the body, and of ownership. Espínola has given readings of her

works in Europe as well as in the U.S., where she completed a residency at the Iowa Writers

Workshop.

Nila López is an accomplished actress and writer whose essays seek to put into perspective the

changing roles that women have begun to assume in Paraguay. The situation in Paraguay for

women is different than in other countries due to the fact that many have considered Paraguay a

virtual matriarchy since the disastrous Triple Alliance War in the late 19th century, in which 90

percent of the Paraguayan male population was decimated in terrible encounters with Argentine

and Brazilian troops. When the Chaco War with Bolivia in the 1930s devastated yet another large

percentage of the male population, even more emphasis was placed on the need to repopulate the

nation. Many have commented on the sociological results, commenting that what began as an

exigency resulted in hard-to-eradicate patterns and values. For example, after the Triple Alliance

War, it was not uncommon for one man to father children with three or four women. Needless to

say, it was difficult for one man to support so many households. As a result, women tended to live

with their extended families, and the roles of the "Abuelita" (grandmother) and the "Tia" (aunt)

were pivotal in raising and supporting the children. Women had to be very inventive and motivated

in order to obtain the skills necessary to be able to provide for their family. As a result, many

women started small businesses and directed schools.

Paradoxically, even as financial independence was gained, emotional dependence was fostered.

Men were a scarce commodity, and thus prized. Irresponsible paternity, abuse, bullying, and an

obsession to control the woman's every move were all excused. Having a man meant everything. In

order to "have" a man, women became experts at coquetry, and even today place great importance

on their grooming and appearance (in contrast to the men). As a result, women often placed

themselves in compromising or humiliating positions in order to have the company of a man.

Perhaps this is changing, but attitudes die hard, and the situations reflected in the essays and

stories of Nila López (and many other Paraguayan women authors) have a base in reality.

Margot Ayala de Michelagnoli's poetry and prose are lyric quests for meaning. They posit

strategies for establishing contact between nature and the individual self. In addition, they suggest

that reality is a construct, no so much of individual self, but of the genre itself. Romantic

epistemologies are developed from the functioning of fancy or the imagination, and the moment

that words are unmoored from their denotative anchors, the art becomes plastic, the

consciousnesses filled with promise. Paraguayan, but born in France, Ayala writes poetry and

fiction, and has been a member of a number of writing workshops and groups.

Elly Mercado de Vera was born in Encarnación, Paraguay, on the Argentine border, and the

location of Jesuit missions of the 17th century. A prolific writer of prose, poetry, and historical

texts, her work investigates the collective consciousness vis-à-vis internalized historical realities.

Her collection of treasure tales in Paraguay is particularly fascinating, because it incorporates a

great deal of the tragic history of Paraguay. For example, the stories of treasure lost during the

Triple Alliance War bring to mind more than the battle statistics (where, who, when, how many

lost), but the human toll and the horror of battle, which are all made frighteningly immediate in the

supposed presence of ghosts and the story of why the treasure was lost in the first place.

Simultaneously folkloric and gothic, the tales of treasure bring together the past and the present.

The reader's consciousness becomes the meeting place of the disparate times and vocabularies;

theoretically, it is in the reader's consciousness where all these tales, with their alternative

archetypes become recorded.

Margarita Prieto Yegros was born in Asunción and received her training in education, and also a

doctorate in history. Deeply devoted to literature, she has been published in several newspapers

and journals and has won several awards. Her short stories are often ironic, often based true

events. However, her treatment of journalistically represented events places a human face on facts

and figures and it also shows the toll in human emotion. In addition, the stories focus on the

dynamics in marriages often formed out of convenience in which the woman is no longer capable of

enduring the harsh realities of life without autonomy or freedom. Human dignity is at issue. From

a post-Marxist literary perspective, Prieto examines a politics of erasure -- how silence and

invisibility are enforced and reinforced by attempt to eradicate the beingness of any subversive or

questioning voice. Ironically, repression only makes the protest grow stronger.

Elinor Puschkarevich's poetry can be characterized by its careful renderings of how the mind

perceives external reality, and the consequent existential condition of solitude. She explores the

ephemeral nature of perception, and locates it with the shifting colors and types of flowers

blossoming throughout the Paraguayan seasons. Lyric in the best sense, her poetry allows for the

development of a mechanism of union where two consciousnesses merge in order to come to new

ways to view the world. Motifs of penetration, union, and merging occur often in her poetry.

Similarly, many of the occasions have to do with opening, blooming, emerging. Thus, personal

growth and transformation are implied in the work, always as fresh and colorful as the objective

correlatives -- blooming trees, clay jars, wild weather. In addition, the notion of the impossibility of

self-knowledge by means of mimesis, or mirror representation, is reinforced as the mirrors in her

poetry distort, bend, and flicker, never revealing to the onlooker the self he or she had anticipated.

Susana Riquelme de Bisso's powerful short stories and poetry bring to mind the notion of the

poet as seer or divinely inspired prophet who brings an uncomfortable, even chilling vision of reality

into existence. Born in Asunción, where she currently lives, Riquelme has participated in a number

of writing workshops. Her work has received a great deal of attention, and has garnered praise and

literary awards. With a clear, yet penetrating style, she represents the internalization of power

relationships and oppression. The representation of various emotional states is of particular

interest as Riquelme constructs a space in which nostalgia, solitude, loss, rage, and indignation are

associated with archetypes lodged in the unconscious. In addition, she explore the pain of existence,

and of persistent melancholy in a world where utopias are constructed from the lacerated psyches of

the survivors of the 20th century.

Yula Riquelme was born in Asunción. She obtained her college education in history. A director

of an advertising firm, she often works in advertising and publicity. Her poems and short stories

have been widely published. Her book of poems, The Inhabitants of the Whirlpool is utterly rivetting

to those seeking to understand the situation for artists during the dictatorship. Riquelme's poems

are a scathing indictment of moral and psychological depravity, and the notion that they reflect

some of the players during the dictatorship is more or less irresistible. Although the English

translation does not reflect the gender of the persons being profiled with the same precision as the

Spanish original, the maleness is clear. The male -- not simply as a specific man, but as a state of

being -- is represented as predatory, penetrating, corrupting, and death-dealing. A fascinating text

for the gender and "masculinist" studies, Riquelme's texts intrude the psyche of the torturer and

dissect the mechanisms housed there.

Elsa Wiezell's lyric poetry spans many decades, placing her almost the contemporary of Josefina

Pla, the Spanish-born literary lioness of Paraguay whose works were revered within the country and

outside as well. Wiezell's work contains a number of repeating motifs -- one of journey, and

another of flowers. In her work, nature becomes the screen upon which the self becomes

discoverable. Truly a pioneer and courageous explorer of new forms and modes of expression

during a very difficult time, Wiezell paved the way for other women writers, particularly those

interested in aesthetics and connections between visual (or plastic) art and poetry.

Milia Gayoso was born in Villa Hayes, in the Chaco region of Paraguay, but left shortly to live in

Buenos Aires with her relatives. Her academic training included rigorous studies in communication

and philosophy. Her short stories deal with girls and women coming of age, and the often difficult

realities of a woman's life. Her stories demonstrate enormous sympathy for those without privilege

or special access to professions or services, and they incorporate Paraguayan traditions and cultural

realities. These may not be understandable to a North American reader who does not comprehend

the full implications of some of the events, but with a simple briefing, the universality of the stories

can be seen. For example, the story of a girl's modest "quinceaños" is not particularly poignant

until one understands that in Latin America a girl's 15th birthday is her debut into society, and

great sacrifices are made to insure it is as spectacular as possible. Similarly, the story of a woman's

misgivings in an abortion clinic may be universal, but it is made all the more compelling when one

realizes that in Paraguay, irresponsible paternity and the need to repopulate the country after the

Triple Alliance and Chaco wars have resulted in women raising their children alone, a very difficult

task in a world which reserves the high-paying, prestigious jobs for men.

Susy Delgado is a unique voice in South American literature, whose writing in Guaraní and

Spanish has been awarded many important literary honors. Her poetry is minimalist, the diction

unaffected, and the situations are celebrations of the individual's need to establish communication

with each other, and to share in rituals, however modest, that forge bonds and facilitate mutual

comprehension. Her preservation of the Guaraní language and of Guaraní traditions -- preparing

yerba mate, boiling water for cocido in the morning, cooking and gathering around the fire -- are

testimonies to the power of the language, which is spoken as a primary language by almost all of

the rural inhabitants of bilingual Paraguay. Her poetry is often delightfully ironic, particularly as

she addresses the man in her life, whose power she adroitly usurps by exposing the vulnerability

behind the tough-guy facade.

Delgado´s latest book, Paper Rebellion, marks the emergence of an altered, more nostalgic voice

which looks upon the changing face of the world with sadness and a quiet plea for human dignity in

the midst of rampant consumerism. Her poem dealing with the death of Princess Di is particularly

moving. I first heard it read two days after Princess Di's death. I was in Paraguay and was

attending a book fair set up in the Shopping del Sol mall. In addition, I had been exploring the

possibility of living in Paraguay for a year or so, when the news broke of Princess Di's death. It was

a shock for everyone, and the sense of loss was palpable. In a gathering at the home of Dirma

Pardo Carugati, women authors sat together and read each other works in progress. With

heartfelt, almost painful syllables, Susy read the poem. Its tribute to the basic humanity of a

woman who had been converted into a mass-marketed product until she rebelled was intensely

moving. Perhaps it was the portrayal of the struggle against overwhelming forces that was so

moving. That is a woman's life, isn't it? We package ourselves, or are packaged -- the roles seem

quite predetermined for almost all of us. But what if the selection of predetermined roles is not

adequate? What does that leave for the individual? The universality of that message is, in fact,

heartrending, because it suggests that there is a fundamentally self-alienating component in a

woman's life that only the brightest and most glorious type of courage can overcome. Perhaps this

bright, glorious courage is what I most admire in Susy Delgado and in all the Paraguayan women

writers, whose talent, dedication, and literary output did not come without a price.

I would like to thank all of the women represented in this collection for their generosity and

time. In addition, I would like to acknowledge those who have helped me practice a theory or at

least, philosophy, of translation. These include Rochelle Owens, George Economou, Nick Howe,

Robert Murray Davis, Rod Smith and Cydney Chadwick. George Economou, whose lectures on the

practice of literary translation, recommended texts, and the exercises done in his writing workshop

gave me a new focus and interest in the realm of possibilities. Finally, I would like to thank my

Paraguayan friends who have encouraged me each step of the way. Peter Jones, Martha çlvarez,

Beatriz Fusillo, and many others have all played a very important role, as has the American

Embassy team, particularly James Dickmeyer, USIS cultural officer and Ambassador Maura Harty.