Catherine Wray
In La tía Julia y el escribidor (1977) Vargas Llosa vividly depicts the transformative power of the artist-muse relationship, highlighting its usefulness in shaping an artist’s creative expression whilst warning of the potential of unchecked desires or emotions to catalyse an artist’s demise.
At the heart of the novel is the relationship between the titular Julia, the aunt-by-marriage of aspiring writer Varguitas, widely considered a younger, fictional model of Vargas Llosa himself. A romance between the unlikely pair begins to blossom, with Julia appreciating Varguitas’ artistic sensibilities and Varguitas being drawn to his aunt’s maturity, independence and worldly charms. Her status as a divorcee in the conservative society of 1950s Peru sets her apart from the rest of the family, and she quickly becomes Varguitas’ muse, stimulating his creative imagination and encouraging him to explore his artistic potential.
However, as their relationship develops, the artist-muse dynamic between Aunt Julia and Varguitas becomes increasingly intricate and conflicted. The age difference and familial ties complicate their connection, which defies societal expectations and undermines the expected boundaries of their relationship.
The blurred lines between fiction and reality further contribute to the complexity of their bond. Varguitas begins to fictionalise his experiences with Aunt Julia in his writing, rendering the distinction between his personal life and his creative work increasingly ambiguous. This intertwining of reality and imagination – though characteristic of Vargas Llosa’s work – raises doubts regarding the authenticity of their relationship and the ethical implications of using personal experience as material for artistic expression.
The moral ambiguity of their relationship is also interesting. Given his youth and naivety, a modern reading of La tía Juliamay conclude that the power imbalance is tipped in Julia’s favour, raising doubts as to whether her decision to engage in a romantic relationship with her nephew is an impulsive yet ultimately ethical choice or a somewhat exploitative one, with her taking advantage of Varguitas’ infatuation where she could and should have exercised restraint.
However, this perspective is challenged and ultimately undermined by the fact that the real-life Julia, upon whom Varguitas’ enigmatic muse is based, would later make a powerful counter-argument with her own memoir, published in 1983, Lo que Varguitas no dijo. In this riposte she asserts her own artistic voice and expression, rendering her role in the relationship uncertain. Whilst La tía Julia portrays her as a confident woman in command of her own desires, in her own account she expresses her disenchantment that she was used as artistic fodder in a way that did not do justice to nor to her experience of the relationship. In this way, the ethics of the semi-autobiograhical format of the novel are challenged and – in her view, at least – condemned.
The reference to an escribidor in the novel’s title is usually taken to be a reference to Pedro Camacho, the stunningly successful scriptwriter of radioteatros. His descent into obsession and insanity is marked by the increasingly nonsensical and illogical stories which feature in every other chapter of the book, with his artistic talents being squandered as a result of his deteriorating mental state. His relationship with his audience, though parasocial rather than romantic like that of Julia and Varguitas, can be said to go some way in bringing about his downfall.
Like Aunt Julia, Camacho is quickly identified by Vargas Llosa as differing greatly from the other characters around him. When he is first introduced to Varguitas, the owner of the radio Station described him as more machine than man, such is his productivity and skill. His melodramatic plotlines and ability to engage his audience account for his devoted following. This success initially distracts him from his inner demons and elevates his status in a way that provokes a degree of envy on the part of Varguitas.
Ultimately, however, the support of his audience is fickle and unsteady. He appeared to embody the rise of mass culture taking place at the time the novel was set. However, when his mental state deteriorates, his stories become increasingly incoherent, prompting a degree of bewilderment tinged with fascination from the audience who once listened enraptured to his tales. This duly catalyses his downfall. That Varguitas ends the novel as the successful writer, while Camacho’s career has collapsed, highlights the insouciance of the creative industry which both pedestalised and destroyed Camacho. The symbiotic nature of the writer-audience dynamic prompts the reader to question who is really in control, whose desires are really being immortalised in his work: the artist who is left jobless, meaningless and hopeless, or the audience, whose imaginations and perspectives are dominated by the images and narratives the artist chooses to convey.
In the same way, the muse and the artist become uncomfortably enmeshed, with their respective roles at times unclear. Julia, the muse of Varguitas, will later step out of the novel to reclaim her agency and tell her story on her terms in a way that is less than flattering to Vargas Llosa, whilst Camacho – though clearly a gifted writer of melodramatic radioteatros – is also the muse and inspiration of Varguitas, and at the mercy of his audience and superiors.
In this manner, the duplicitous nature of the artist-muse relationship is shown to be just as corrupting as it is compelling.
Bulletin of Advanced Spanish 