Andrés Neuman - The Things We Don't Do

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Inspired by Borges and Cortazar, and echoing Vila Matas and Zarraluki, Neuman regards both life and literature's big subjects — identity, relationships, guilt and innocence, the survival of extreme circumstances, creativity — with a quizzical, philosophical eye. From US customs houses to disillusioned poets, from Borges to a man with a tricky identity-problem — shining from the page with both irony and mortal seriousness, these often tragicomic 'stories of ideas' vacillate between the touching and the absurd, in the best tradition of Spanish storytelling. This is the first ever English collection of Andres Neuman's short fiction, containing thirty-five short stories and four sets of 'Twelve Rules for a Storyteller'.

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That ought to have been the last sound, but he heard something more. To his amazement and confusion, things went on making noise. His eyes still shut, glued by panic, he heard the general shouting, “Sissy, weep, sissy!”, he heard the firing squad convulse with laughter, heard the birds singing, hesitantly sniffed the delicious morning air, savoured the dry saliva between his lips. “Weep, sissy, weep!” the general was still shouting when Moyano opened his eyes, as the squad was dispersing, their backs to him, chatting about the joke, leaving him sprawled there, kneeling in the mud, panting, all dead.

OUTSIDE NO BIRDS WERE SINGING

THE USUAL LIGHT was falling on the furniture in the study. The blinds shuffled the shadows like playing cards. Next to several scrupulously lined-up files, a water jug cast distortions and reflections. In the centre, Doctor Freidemberg’s neat, pale hand was scrawling on one of the sheets. The stark white of her coat was playing chess with the black leather armchair.

The telephone interrupted her writing.

Yes? Doctor Freidemberg, Doctor! Yes, what is it? Doctor, this is the end! I’m sorry, who’s calling? It’s me, Castillo! Ah, how are you, Castillo? what can I do for you? I’m calling to tell you I’m going to kill myself. What’s that, Castillo? I’m planning to kill myself the moment I put the phone down, I’m calling because I promised to tell you before I did it, apart from that, I haven’t got much else to say. But, Castillo, you must be aware that… Absolutely, doctor, absolutely. Let’s see, Castillo, why don’t you have a spot of lunch instead, then come to my consulting room this afternoon and explain everything to me in person. You’re forgetting that my appointments are on Thursdays, Doctor. But this is an emergency, Castillo, we can bring Thursday’s session forward to today. On the contrary, it’s extremely simple, all it involves is to thank you for your understanding all this time and to inform you I’m going to hang myself in my daughter’s bedroom, you’ve been a great help to me, Doctor, you can’t imagine how calm I feel now I know I have to die. Listen to me, Castillo, you’re to take a taxi this instant and come straight here, I’ll be expecting you in half an hour, and anyway, what are you thinking of, hanging yourself in your daughter’s bedroom? My daughter left home a fortnight ago, as you know very well. Caramba, I know that, but all the same! do you think it would be nice for your daughter to find out that her father hanged himself in the same room where she slept so often, how do you think that would make her feel? You’re right there, Doctor, it’s just that the only suitable light fitting is in my daughter’s room, I’m not trying to hurt her feelings, quite the opposite, I’ve just left her a long, long letter explaining everything in great detail. You’ve written a letter? Yes, Doctor, and I can assure you that it is sufficiently emotional for my daughter not to take my suicide as something personal. But Castillo, how long have you been thinking about this? Well, I couldn’t tell you exactly, in fact if you think about it carefully you come to the conclusion that you’ve been thinking about it more or less your whole life, this sort of thing isn’t done on an impulse, Doctor, don’t try to convince me, because it’s a matter of principle, we’ve talked about it often enough, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised. But this last month we haven’t so much as touched on the subject! Precisely, Doctor, precisely, my mind was already made up, so there was nothing more to say about it. There is always a great deal more to say, believe you me. Oh, yes? such as what, for example? Such as for example your wife’s unfaithfulness, until now we’ve been analysing your wife’s faults more than your own. I don’t need you to remind me of them, Doctor, I’m paying for my own faults myself, and I’m doing a good job of it, there’s the rope, just waiting for me. But aren’t you afraid of death, Castillo? Death is beautiful, Doctor. How do you know? I know, believe me, I know. I can’t believe you, because you and I are alive, thank heavens. It’s such a poor thing to be alive, Doctor. What are you saying? I’m saying that a corpse is a body that has known life, whereas we don’t know what it means to be dead, and so we are missing something. They are the ones missing something, they’re missing life, Castillo, life, which is what enables you to talk such nonsense to me on the telephone! The dead are wiser. Wisdom is memory, Castillo! Yes, but the most perfect memory is the one the dead leave behind. All right, listen, I’ll make a deal with you: from now on we’ll devote our sessions to discussing the idea of death, we can spend hours analysing books, films, our own and other people’s experiences related to death and then, after some time, we’ll be in a position to say we know as much or more about death as the dead do about living, except with one marvellous advantage: we’ll still be here to tell the story, whereas they won’t: what do you reckon?

Answer me, Castillo, what do you reckon? You’re trying to persuade me, damn it, you’re always trying to persuade me of something, I’m sick and tired of your making me think I’ve got it wrong. Oh, it’s life itself doing the persuading. No, Doctor, life has persuaded me I should hang myself, you can’t understand it because things are going so well for you, but there is no reason why wretches like me have to go on suffering the humiliation of getting up every morning and avoiding mirrors so that we don’t weep with shame over the dreams we had when we were young. How would you know how many dreams I’ve had to give up on, Castillo? You’re right, I don’t know, but I do know that at this moment you’re in your consulting room, with a wall full of diplomas, a fulfilling vocation and a good income, a damned good income! as if I didn’t know how much you steal from your patients… Castillo! Of course, it must be comforting for you to spend your days listening to other people’s troubles, then arrive home and say to yourself: peace at last! and go out to dinner or to see a film with a pleasant companion, and afterwards go for a stroll in the centre, thinking: what a lovely night…! You’re making a mistake, Castillo. And then arriving home again and pouring yourself a nightcap, putting some music on… I tell you, you’re mistaken! And then you go into your bedroom, you let them slowly undress you… Now listen to me… And fuck like a bitch in heat until dawn… Castillo, how dare you!

Doctor Freidemberg lit a cigarette.

Doctor, forgive me for intruding into your sex life, I’m rather on edge, although let’s admit that you know all there is to know about mine, well anyway, a thousand pardons, I don’t want to die with a bad conscience. Listen very carefully: I’m glad you withdrew your comment, but that’s not the point, Castillo, you need to stop thinking about yourself so much and to open up to others, you think you know about life but you only ever focus on your own, it’s natural you think you’re unhappy because it never occurs to you to consider the problems other people have. The thing is, my problems are more serious than other people’s, Doctor. We all have conflicts, Castillo. You don’t say: what serious problems could a woman like you have, for example? Look, to start with, since you’re so curious, let me tell you that I’ve been divorced for seven years, and that ever since I have seldom had the opportunity to have a candlelit dinner, as you describe it. I didn’t say that, I simply said you had a drink and put some music on, you see, you see, at least you can enjoy the privilege of a romantic night from time to time, you have no right to complain. And what have you to say about enjoying the privilege of two further separations, as well as losing the lawsuit with my husband over the divorce settlement, does that sound romantic to you? I’m well aware of what it means to split up with someone, Doctor, and to be the one cheated on. Well, I haven’t had that pleasure, instead I had the honour of leaving the man who used to beat me up. What, your husband used to beat you? No, not my husband: the other one I used to enjoy candlelit dinners with. Goodness! So, Castillo, as you can see, you need to learn to think of other people. I’m not sure, Doctor, all I can think now is that we should commit suicide together. I’ve never thought of taking my own life, Castillo. That’s your business, in my case other people’s problems are no consolation for my own. But your problems aren’t that serious, Castillo, you’ve told me them all and I can assure you that I know a lot of patients in your situation, and some even worse off! So you think it’s interesting to compare other people’s misfortunes? From a strictly professional point of view, yes, I do. In other words, the more we patients suffer, the better for you. Don’t talk nonsense! The worse it is for us, the more money and experience you accumulate, is that it? I’ve just shown you that I know what personal pain is, Castillo. Fine, so why don’t you analyse yourself and let the rest of us hang ourselves in peace? Castillo, I’m starting to feel that I should give up and let you do something stupid… Oh, is that so? Yes, it is. Well, I’m not going to give you that pleasure, you cow! Please don’t insult me. All I’m doing is calling you by your name, you whore of deception, you witch of madness, will you shut up for once. Castillo! So I should hang myself, is that it, so that on the day of my funeral you can think: we did all that was professionally possible, but in the end he deserved it? How on earth could you imagine such a…! Too bad, I’m not going to hang myself after all, and that’s that, too bad for you! who do you think you are? and anyway, I’m going to screw you twice over: you won’t get to go to my funeral, and you won’t have a patient at six on Thursdays either, have a good life, witch!

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