Isabel Allende: "Old age does not make you wiser, it makes you more of what you already are; if you are a bitch you will be more so"

BarcelonaI head towards the Llotja de Mar thinking that if I could interview Isabel Allende (Lima, 1942) –because she hasn't granted us that honor at ARA– I would need three questions and sincerity. Why change publishers at 84 years old, after 45 years of million-selling books? Why revisit, precisely now, The House of the Spirits? And the million-dollar, or millions-dollar, question: how much has she been paid, aside from the Planeta Prize? The writer has so far avoided the controversy over the latest great flight in the publishing sector, but since this Thursday she had a great swordswoman in front of her, the journalist Júlia Otero, I thought she might unsheathe her foil. No such luck. But I admit that, seeing the stage, pompous and giant, with 500 people present in the flesh and those following globally via streaming, and with the top brass of Planeta in front –as Otero pointed out with intent–, perhaps it was not the time. In exchange, they gave us 45 minutes of fun, full of witty phrases, showing off the reputation for being a great conversationalist that precedes her.

Cheers, applause, and the entire audience on their feet, just as the Chilean-American writer entered, agile in body, mind, and tongue, who declares that she was a feminist before the word even existed: "[The agent] Carme Balcells told me that, because I am a woman, it would cost me twice as much as any man to get half the recognition and respect they get. It was exactly like that. But for every kick I receive, I give two back". Later on, she will explain where her character comes from: "Authority is given to you by your stature. When one is as short as I am, one must have a strong voice. I only reach people's navels, I only see nose hairs, shrimp peels fall on my head. In these conditions, you have to have personality". Allende assures that everything can be trained, and she has practiced being a good person: "Old age doesn't make you wiser, it makes you more of what you already are: if you are a bitch, you will be even more so".

The writer states that the daily epistolary relationship with her mother was key to maintaining memory and recording events – something that has allowed her to remember, for example, why she got divorced the last time, because it had slipped her mind–. "I have started from scratch so many times, leaving everything behind, that if I didn't want to keep the memory alive, I would have no roots anywhere," states the author, who has lived in California since 1988. "Since she died, it seems like all days are the same," she complains. "My mother died at 98 years old. The last 15 years of her life she only wished to be a widow; she had everything ready, the clothes and everything. But her husband died at 103 years old, she had to put up with him until the last day of her life".

An autumn love

In contrast, Allende got married at 74 for the third time to an American who was obsessed with her and wrote her messages morning and night. "I was alone and I didn't feel bad. If one has dogs or cats, one doesn't need husbands," she says. But she agreed to meet him in New York and asked him: "Who do you vote for? Do you like dogs? Those are two fundamental things." The next one was: "What are your intentions? I don't have time to waste." The next day he asked her to marry him and she told him that, to be lovers, he would have to move to California.

"Gluttony and lust are the only deadly sins that are worth it." However, with her conditions: "I don't get undressed even when dead, not even in front of the gynecologist. I only keep my face, decent. From there down is a collapse. But there is always the possibility of a nice nightgown, a candle, a little marijuana; one finds a way. Getting undressed never, not even when I was young." And she also gives erotic advice: "Men should learn that women are seduced by what you whisper in their ear, they don't need to look for the G-spot elsewhere." Definitely, she is enjoying the "delightful autumn" of life, of a love that protects her from the years. "At this age you let go of everything, what is material stops having importance and you cling to affections."

Family material

Allende's family anecdotes are rich and juicy. In fact, she says she doesn't need to invent anything: "With a family like mine, I have material forever." She admits she preferred to betray her family rather than literature, and many relatives didn't speak to her for years. "Until the fiction of the movie The House of the Spirits (1993) became the family history and Meryl Streep and Jeremy Irons [became] my grandparents," she recalls, laughing. She also asserts that to read the novel awarded the Planeta Prize, The Hour Before Dawn, which brings back the character of Alba, the granddaughter of the patriarch from the first novel, there's no need to have that thick book. "Watch the miniseries, it's wonderful; there's no need to read the book." Amazon Prime is happy, let's see how Penguin takes it.

The new story takes place in the same corner house, which is a symbol of a country that has gone through a dictatorship very similar to Pinochet's. From experience, Allende always takes a political stance: "Democracy is messy and confusing. It is easier to maintain an authoritarian regime because people who are afraid are paralyzed. But democracy gives the possibility of change –she says, referring to the American elections–. And when you lose it, you realize how hard it is to get it back." She believes that Trump's impunity and corruption were more decisive in the midterm elections than the price of vegetables: "In 2 years he has accumulated 2.2 million dollars, he and his family, and no one has stopped it."

Isabel Allende keeps a daily appointment with her computer when she is at home. She has her own private room and a "Do Not Disturb" sign. "When the father works at home, everyone walks on eggshells, and when the mother sits down to write, everything happens; you get interrupted a million times. To women who want to write, I tell them they must have a private room in their brain. If the child is bleeding out, let them bleed, someone will come along eventually." All great writers have a wife who organizes their lives. "I have a wife, and that is Roger," she says. After the planetary tour, she promises that this coming January 7th she will prepare her office again to start, as every year, promptly on the 8th, a new book. The minutes run out and the writer leaves quickly through the side, amidst applause, with fans wondering if she will sign books while the wonderful Gracias a la vida by Violeta Parra plays. She almost made me forget the three questions I would have asked her. Almost.