Rupture and Rebellion: Reimagining the Older Woman in Two Short Stories by Angélica Gorodischer

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY RUPTURE AND REBELLION: REIMAGINING THE OLDER WOMAN IN TWO SHORT STORIES BY ANGÉLICA GORODISCHER CYNTHIA L. PALMER IN the collection of short stories titled Menta (published in 2000), Argentine author Angélica Gorodischer explores two taboo topics, old age and death. Throughout her writing career, Angélica Gorodischer has focused attention on gender oppression;1 her latest writings explore the intersection of sexism and ageism and feature older female protagonists who defy social expectations. Gorodischer’s improbable heroines (to borrow Ángela Dellepiane’s phrase)2 refuse to act their age, that is, to be controlled by the 1 Born in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1928, Angélica Gorodischer considers the city of Rosario as home. Since her first work, Cuentos con soldados, appeared in 1965, she has produced an impressive body of work, including the novels Floreros de alabastro, alfombras de Bokhara (Emecé, 1985); Jugo de mango (Emecé, 1988); Fábula de la virgen y el bombero (Ediciones de la Flor, 1993); and La noche del inocente (Emecé, 1996); the short story collections Mala noche y parir hembra (Ediciones la Campana, 1983); Cómo triunfar en la vida (Emecé, 1998); and Menta (Emecé, 2000); and the memoir Historia de mi madre (Emecé, 2004), as well as numerous essays. Gorodischer has received several literary awards, including Premio de la Orden (1984); Premio Poblet (1984-85); Premio Emecé (1985); Premio Gilgamesh of Spain (1986 and 1991-93), and Premio Xonex de Platino (1993). In 1996 she was the recipient of the Dignity Award granted by the Permanent Assembly of Human Rights for her work to promote women’s rights. A highly original voice, Gorodischer has been compared with writers as diverse as Silvina O’Campo and Patricia Highsmith. Gorodischer may be best known to English language readers for her classic work of fantastic fiction Kalpa Imperial: The Greatest Empire That Never Was (1983), which was translated into English in 2003 by Ursula K. Le Guin, with whom Gorodischer shares many aesthetic and thematic concerns. 2 Dellepiane describes the protagonist of Gorodischer’s 1985 espionage novel Floreros de alabastro, alfombras de Bokhara as an “heroína ‘improbable’ […] una mujer madura…capaz de ejercer su libre albedrío tal como siempre lo han hecho los hombres” (Dellepiane, 27), and classifies the protagonist of Gorodischer’s 1988 novel Jugo de manYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY 179 societal imperatives of dependence, self-sacrifice, and silence that relegate older women to the margins. Literary critic Zoe Brennan argues that alternative discourses of ageing have the potential to transform negative attitudes toward the elder woman. I situate Gorodischer’s recent work in the context of feminist contestatory narratives of aging, and analyze the representation of the mature woman in two stories from the collection, focusing on Gorodischer’s use of parodic and carnivalesque discourses to expand the repertoire of available “scripts” for older female characters. The ironically titled “Ars amandi” traces an older female protagonist’s quest for economic independence and happiness, a quest that ends in a murder committed for material gain. The protagonist’s radical transformation from grieving widow to unrepentant murderess is rooted in her refusal to accept patriarchal social expectations that relegate older women, particularly widows, to traditional grandmotherly roles within the domestic sphere. She kills in self-defense, that is, in defense of her autonomy. This story is a sly parody of the edifying models of elder female empowerment found in many late-life fictions by women writers, as well of female servant-male employer narratives. Several aspects of the text signal the author’s parodic intentions, including the ironic title and a false initiation plotline that is subverted by the story’s unexpected ending. The story opens with the recently widowed 51-year-old protagonist, Amalia, struggling with the question of how to support herself: “–¿Y ahora? –se dijo–, ¿ahora qué voy a hacer?” (68). While her friends suggest that she move in with her daughter to stretch her late husband’s modest pension, she categorically rejects that option because it would compromise her freedom. This is clear in the following quote, in which she rehearses all of the reasons for which she is reluctant to move in with her daughter: No quería...