Voices for Saer, the Fair's Reading Marathon paid tribute to the Santa Fe native

The Reading Marathon is an unmissable meeting point in the Buenos Aires International Book Fair. Coordinated and curated by Alejandra Rodríguez Ballester, actors, writers, journalists, critics, playwrights, film directors, editors, and readers —of both sexes, of course—are invited to read excerpts from the selected author's works, before an audience that always fills the hall designated for the cultural event.

This year, marking the 20th anniversary of the death of the writer from Santa Fe, Juan José Saer, in Paris (the date will be June 11), the city where he settled and from which he never returned to Argentina, except to present his subsequent books or visit friends, the marathon dedicated readings of several of his titles to him .

Perhaps the most notable, and well-known, are The Royal Lemon Tree and The Stepson . But pages from Shadows on a Frosted Glass, The Art of Storytelling, The Great One, Gloss, The Great One, and other titles were also read.

Among the voices that paid tribute to Saer were Gustavo Fontán, Gloria Peirano, Mauricio Kartun, Nurit Kasztelán, and Mariela Asensio. Ingrid Pellicori, Paulo Ricci, Martín Kohan, Agustina Bazterrica, Florencia Abbate, Franco Torchia, Patricia Kolesnicov, Ruben Szuchmacher, and Carlos Gamerro. The closing act was led by Cristina Banegas.

Among the attendees were writers, such as Selva Almada, who mingled with the public who , forty minutes before the scheduled time, had been patiently queuing at Zona Futuro, where the marathon took place this year.

What can we say about a cult author who created his own universe, who wrote at the leisurely pace of life in the Argentine provinces, and who left a way of seeing life and experiencing literature in his work ?

"I'm only going to give one definition of Saer out of many possible ones, one borrowed from Fabián Casas (poet): he was a writer whose plan was to renew genres through poetry . That's why his literature is complex and demanding, but at the same time, so sensorial, so musical, and beautiful to read," said Rodríguez Ballestar at the opening of the marathon, where artistic director Ezequiel Martínez introduced the cultural event.

If anything characterizes Saer's work, it's that it opens up like a challenge to the reader. It doesn't grab you from the first page, but something pulls you to keep reading, because there comes a moment when that something will touch a sensitive nerve. That's the essence of it.

Many of those who took the stage were “captured by her voice and those Saerian worlds, and that's why they came to the marathon , edited her texts, brought them to film and theater, and read them a thousand times,” the series' curator noted.

The reading had barely begun, with the room packed and some people standing, holding their thermoses and mate—a classic in recent editions of the Fair—the reading began with Fontán, Peirano, and Kartún . It was the playwright who received the first heartfelt applause. As a man of the theater, accustomed to creating worlds live on stage, Kartún not only read but also performed the pages of El limonero real that he had selected. And he created the magic of that celebrated intersection of literature and theater.

Other voices followed, also opting to interpret Saer's words , such as Ingrid Pellicori and Asensio, but the contributions of Bazterrica, Abbate, and Gamerro, to name a few, also added a poetic atmosphere. Of course, with Banegas's interpretive quality, the closing ceremony touched the hearts of those in attendance.

The music, beautiful and appropriate, was performed by Marcelo Katz , who, like a magician, read a fragment of The Art of Storytelling while playing on his keyboard.

As a closing, the one Cristina Banegas left when reading the pages relating to the eclipse, at the end of The Stepson.

This is what Saer wrote: Coming from the ports, where so many men depend on the sky, I knew what an eclipse was. But knowing is not enough. The only true knowledge is the knowledge that recognizes that we know only what condescends to reveal itself. Since that night, the cities have sheltered me. It is not out of fear. For that time, when the darkness reached its extreme, the moon, little by little, began to shine again. In silence, as they had been arriving, the Indians dispersed, disappeared among the villages, and, almost satisfied, went to sleep. I was left alone on the beach. What came after, I call years or my life…