The streets of Paris at night are pathways coursing with light and shadow, channels along which identity may be formed and lost, where the grand inflow of history, art, language, and thought—and of love—can both inspire and enfeeble. For the narrator of Eduardo Lalo’s Uselessness, it is a world long desired. But as this young aspiring writer discovers upon leaving his home in San Juan to study—to live and be reborn—in the city of his dreams, Paris’s twinned influences can rip you apart.
Lalo’s first novel, Uselessness is something of a bildungsroman of his own student days in Paris. But more than this, it is a literary précis of his oeuvre—of themes that obsess him still. Told in two parts, Uselessness first follows our narrator through his romantic and intellectual awakenings in Paris, where he elevates his adopted home over the moribund one he has left behind. But as he falls in and out of love he comes to realize that as a Puerto Rican, he will always be apart. Ending the greatest romance of his life—that with the city of Paris itself—he returns to San Juan. And in this new era of his life, he is forced to confront choices made, ambitions lost or unmet—to look upon lives not lived.
A tale of the travails of youthful romance and adult acceptance, of foreignness and isolation both at home and abroad, and of the stultifying power of the desire to belong—and to be moved—Uselessness is here rendered into English by the masterful translator Suzanne Jill Levine. For anyone who has been touched by the disquieting passion of Paris, Uselessness is a stirring saga.
Eduardo Lalo is a writer, essayist, and artist from San Juan, Puerto Rico. His many books include the award-winning novel Simone, which we published in translation. Suzanne Jill Levine is a leading translator of Latin American literature who runs the translation doctoral program at UCSB. A tale of social, spiritual, and intellectual yearning, Uselessness follows the life of its narrator, a young Puerto Rican writer studying in Paris, the city of his dreams. There he finds an appreciation of the arts that he has always longed for, yet he remains alienated from it because of his uncertain identity. Meanwhile, he grapples with two long, tumultuous love affairs. He conveys these events in a dark yet witty tone, as if aware of the futility of his youthful follies. After some time he chooses to end perhaps his greatest love affair, that with the city of Paris itself, and return to San Juan. Upon his return, he finds himself just as estranged and alienated at home as he felt abroad. In his writing and academic careers he gains little notoriety, but he tries to help a student whose struggles in many ways reflect his own early days. As he observes this young mans mistakes, the narrator confronts a path he very nearly traveled down himself and, in doing so, accepts his small place in the narrative of countless generations.
