CARRIZO AL INGLÉS, PARTE II: Traducción de "Te lo digo por tu bien..."

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De cuando la honestidad mata...

por Delfina Morganti.-

                                                                                                                                                    

PRÓLOGO  

NOEMÍ CARRIZO: INGENIOSA Y SIN RESERVAS

Con tono asertivo y sin "pelos en la lengua", la prosa periodística de Noemí Carrizo se destaca por ser culta pero honestamente accesible: el lenguaje pulido pero contundente, su ritmo espontáneo y un tono que invita a la conversación casual hacen de sus textos un intercambio de ánimas, sabias confesiones que conducen a anécdotas que hacemos propias, que son también las nuestras, y con las que, por lo tanto, el interlocutor no puede dejar de sentirse señalado—y señalar al mismo tiempo.

En sus escritos los personajes son personas y viceversa, y si ella juzga necesario el ornamento de la cita textual a algún pariente, amigo o lector, se trata precisamente de que la cita no se constituye como mero ornamento en el todo que es su texto. Las referencias [sic.] a frases "demoledoras" dan un toque de veracidad e intimidad al descubierto a los minirelatos de la vida cotidiana que Carrizo de seguro selecciona con aguda prudencia, sensata perspicacia e indudable humor.

En su aventurado uso de la primera persona, los escritos de Carrizo lucen un tono a veces consejero, otras confesionario y siempre inteligible, siempre genuino e ingenioso. Este recurso, que parece surgir con la naturalidad de su pluma, logra entablar con el lector menos sagaz un vínculo de cercana empatía a distancia, de intimidad para nada forzada.

Es que los temas que encabezan sus notas son terriblemente inclusivos: si bien abarcan experiencias que se enuncian como propias, la escritora se encarga de darles un color universal con el que resulta casi imposible no identificarse.

Como si esto fuera poco, con las columnas de Noemí Carrizo el lector se instruye. Sus últimos párrafos suelen estar minados de referencias exofóricas y alusiones alentadoras a reconocidos personajes de la cultura nacional e internacional. En general, se trata referentes artísticos que o bien encantan por haber desafiado alguna premisa social de comportamiento ineludible o bien consuelan por haber sorteado alguna situación particular que parecía irresoluble:

Enrique Pinti, que estudió en el Conservatorio Nacional de Arte Dramático, afirmó en varias entrevistas que, por ser gordo, no conseguía que lo llamaran para ningún rol. Pero se destacó en monólogos de imaginación desopilante, sobre todo porque, a pesar de sus kilos de más, no aceptó la injuria: su temperamento avasallante y su lucidez incomparable detuvieron todo ultraje a su persona.*

¿El efecto? Ilustran en carne y hueso la temática escogida por la periodista. En fin, su heroísmo pasa por otro lugar:

Vincent Van Gogh tal vez el posimpresionista más reconocido de todos los tiempos, vendió un solo cuadro durante su vida y pereció en la pobreza total. No accedió jamás a pintar según la sugerencia de los maestros sincericidas de su época.*

DE LA PLURIVOCIDAD DE SUS TEXTOS

Los atractivos títulos de las columnas dominicales en Nueva llaman la atención del ojo y del ser por resultar el eco de retazos discursivos que todos, en algún momento de nuestras vidas, hemos pensado, dicho o escuchado. Por un lado está su primera persona del singular al comienzo del párrafo, lo cual deja entrever que ella es su propia materia; ella, y su experiencia de vida constituyen la materia de su escritura. Pero además no descontemos lo acertado de sus incrustaciones de estilo directo, indirecto libre y el auto-cuestionamiento au vivo que plasma en sus textos y hace de ellos la puesta en escena de una genuina y rica pluralidad de voces que desconocemos pero que nos suenan familiares:

He recopilado frases demoledoras en mi entorno: “¡Ojo, que tu marido le tira onda a mi hermana!”; “¡Qué bien quedabas con diez kilos menos!; “Desde que te separaste parecés una mujer de la calle”; “Las madres del colegio aseguran que te vestís con pésimo gusto”; “¿Te gastaste tanto dinero en unos pantalones que te quedan tan mal?”.*

La introducción de voces ajenas sumadas a la propia no es nunca casual y tampoco quedan dichas frases en estado vegetativo. Carrizo dialoga con ellas, las pone en jaque y al cuestionarlas se cuestiona y nos interpela; reflexiona a partir de aparentes nimiedades y, al exponer su punto de vista, se expone ella misma como sujeto y a nosotros:

Ya he afirmado en otras ocasiones que no me importa si alguien es malo porque tuvo una infancia infeliz, lo acosó una tragedia inesperada o tuvo una madre nociva (¡ay, existen insultos tan exactamente acordes!); por consiguiente, hay que descartarlo como a un virus invasor y destructivo.*

Mediante sus preguntas retóricas el lector escribe la lectura, como diría Roland Barthes, de modo que cada columna suya se transforma en una auténtica joya ensayística, un tesoro que el lector menos afanado querrá archivar, más no sea en su frágil memoria de siglo veintiuno.

*Los fragmentos citados corresponden al texto original publicado por la revista Nueva (Diario La Capital), con fecha domingo 8 de julio de 2012.

TRADUCCIÓN 

I'm telling you for your own sake…

**By Noemí Carrizo***

“You’re a bad person. I’m saying it to your face so that you try to change.”

Collective thought has come up with a neologism, sincericide, to define the sort of truths that “kill”—though not completely—yet quite enough to bring us down. Those advocates of truthful judgement have labelled themselves as the gurus of authenticity, and even pay tribute to their own practices by boasting about their integrity. I have collected a number of demolishing statements from my circle: “Watch out, your husband's battering his eyes at my sister!”; “You looked so great when you weighed 20 pounds less”; “Ever since you split up you been looking like some street woman”; “Mothers at school keep claiming you have this awful dress sense”; “You spent this much on trousers that suit you this badly?”

Recently, a weekly magazine coined the word sincericide to refer to a statement made by the daughter of the well-known footballer, Dalma Maradona. “My dad is still in love with my mum,” she said. I reckon there has been a mistake in the description of her quote given that, immediately afterwards, the star of Daughter of God* warned the audience against her unhealthy filial jealousy.

The genuine sincericide won’t beat around the bush and is often driven by a variety of emotions, both devastating and health-detrimental, such as envy, competitiveness, revenge, perversion, nastiness and the very low esteem towards themselves. So compulsive is their impulse to disparage that they not only overlook the pain they can cause to others but also they don’t care if their attitude cost them to lose their peer.

I believe that, given this abominable creature, which is often spurred on by their own plea for affection, the one thing to do is cut off every possible bond of friendship, and, in case you have no choice but keep meeting them, then ignore their presence until they become invisible. I have already asserted in past circumstances that I don’t care if someone’s mean as a result of a cheerless childhood, an unexpected tragedy or a noxious mother (and one could find so many tags just as becoming!); therefore, one has to get rid of them like they are some sort of invasive and destructive virus.

All religions, generally speaking, though based on different premises, recommend practising forgiveness “seventy times seven or as many times as you should be offended.” Number seven, just as putative should, is boundless. But there is not even the slightest need, actually, to remain close to those who humiliate others, unless one should be as mentally ill as to take pleasure in being abused. Certain phrases start off with such alarmingly crushing beginnings that one can feel the stab making its way to one’s back: “Not that I mean to offend, but…”

A celebrated drama teacher, who was just as demanding as he was unflappable, pointed out once that every student willing to become an actor or actress should be slim without exception. One of our girl mates, who was kind of plump, began to take weight-loss pills. It all ended in an outburst of tears and a shocking fled: she had managed to look like a stick, but her mind just collapsed.

Famous actor Enrique Pinti, who studied at the National Conservatory of Dramatic Art, has claimed over several interviews that, because he was fat, he failed to get every part. And yet he shines when performing outstanding monologues because, above all and despite a couple of extra pounds, he’s never taken slander: his demolishing character and unique sense of wit have drawn away every possible outrage against his person.

Moreover, and getting a bit fussy about this issue, how many (of those anorexic or bulimic) girls are the result of a series of sincericides starting “Because I esteem you highly…”? Neither should one take the excuses coming after a “well-meaning” joke in order to put up with insults hurled at us from those who, with their best interests at heart (really?), rejoice in pointing out other people’s flaws—and in sheer blindness to their very own! People know when they are either overweight, heading towards emotional breakdown or failing to meet their own standards. It goes without saying that these very same people have enough moral courage to infer that changes will derive from their own decisions about it and they don’t need any Mr. or Ms. Blind-Leading-the-Blind to highlight their plight.

J. K. Rowling had to put up with the rejection of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone for twenty times in a row until the young daughter of an editor got hooked. When Beethoven’s vile competitors took pleasure in his deafness, the master laid his ear against the floor to compose his magnificent as well as immortal symphonies. Vincent Van Gogh, perhaps the most renowned postimpressionist artist of all times, sold but one single painting during the whole of his lifetime and perished in utter poverty. He never stooped to paint according to the recommended practices of the sincericidal masters of his day.

And by the way, let’s face it. There is no such someone who can look down on us with their derogatory remarks unless our tacit and perhaps “self-destructive” consent makes room for them. ◙ ◙ ◙

*Daughter of God (in Spanish La hija de Dios) stands for the name given to the contemporary theatrical play starring Dalma Maradona, the daughter of Argentine football legend Diego Maradona.

**University Professor in Letters, journalist and writer.

***Article written by Noemí Carrizo, published in Nueva magazine, UNO Medios, La Capital (Rosario, Argentina) on July 8^th, Sunday (2012).

Translated by Delfina Morganti.