Because She Never Asked

by Enrique Vila-Matas, Valerie Miles (Translator)

Because She Never Asked is a story reminiscent of that reached by the travelers in Patricia Highsmith's Stranger on a Train. The author first writes a piece for the artist Sophie Calle to live out: a young, aspiring, French artist travels to Lisbon and the Azores in pursuit of an older artist whose work she’s in love with. The second part of the story tells what happens between the author and Calle. She eludes, him; he becomes blocked, and suffers physical collapse.

“Something strange happened along the way,” Vila-Matas wrote. “Normally, writers try to pass a work of fiction off as being real. But in Because She Never Asked, the opposite occurred: in order to give meaning to the story of my life, I found that I needed to present it as fiction.”

Genres: Fiction, Spain, Spanish Literature, Contemporary, Novella, Short Stories, Art

89 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2007

About the author

Enrique Vila-Matas is a Spanish author. He has written several award-winning books that mix genres and have been translated into more than thirty languages. He is a founding Knight of the Order of Finnegans, a group which meets in Dublin every year to honour James Joyce. He lives in Barcelona.

Reviews

[s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all] · Rating 4 out of 5]

Literature carries a considerable advantage over life: one can go back and correct it.

While art imitates life, life often imitates art. Media and culture, for example, form a paradoxical chicken-and-egg symbiosis as media is inspired by and representative of its culture while culture simultaneous mimics—and is inspired by—popular media. Recently translated into English by Valerie Miles¹, Enrique Vila-Matas’ Because She Never Asked investigates the cyclical relationship between an author reconfiguring reality into art while performing their art on the stage of reality. The author and subsequent author-characters at work in this particular novella are Enrique Vila-Matas himself addressing through fiction a clotted literary pursuit and the emotional and possibly somatoform damage wrought by the buildup. Because She Never Asked is an onion bulb of character in a kaleidoscopic downward spiral of writer and written as substories explosively blossom and vanish with each turn, continuously recycling the same parts into something eloquently new.

The blurred boundaries between the author and the author-character² are a field ripe for the picking in metafictional literature, and a confidently familiar territory for Vila-Matas. New Direction released Because She Never Asked on the heels of their previous publication of The Illogic of Kassel, a fictional account of Vila-Matas actual invitation to be a living work of art in the quinquennial art exhibit dOCUMENTA held in Kassel, Germany. ‘Art intensifies the feeling of being alive,’ he writes in Kassel, a feeling of which the Enrique Vila-Matas of Because She Never Asked attempts to get a finger on the pulse. Enrique is contracted by artist Sophie Calle for a bold piece of performance art. ‘In short, he is told, ‘you write a story, and I’ll bring it to life.’ Honored, as the request has been given to several authors such as Paul Auster³, Enrique accepts but when she evades starting the project he becomes stalled in his work. Art supersedes all aspects of life to Enrique, the desire to work outweighing even his mental and physical safety.

I knew her words were sensible, but I also knew that art isn’t, it has never been; in fact quite the contrary: it’s always been an attack on common sense, an effort to get beyond the beaten path.

It seems the creation of fiction is the lifeblood of an author, a spirit akin to those of mountain climber and explorers in any field always looking to prove humanity can achieve ever greater feats; Enrique seeks to push fiction into new depths of reality the way we pull fiction from reality. He invokes the efforts of Petronius , who set off to live out the lives of his characters and quits writing in the process. ‘The story of Petronius,’ writes Vila-Matas, ‘is that of a writer who dare to experience what he has written, and for that reason stops writing.’ Better to cease to write in the pinnacle blisses of life than stagnant and rotting.

I ended by invoking the pathetic case of Truman Capote in In Cold Blood: the writer who suffered unspeakably from not being able to finish the book without the execution scene.

While the novella is primarily a commentary on theory, Vila-Matas keeps the plot—as simple and sparse as it is—engaging as a thrill-ride through surprising twists and turns as if it were a plot-based thriller with layers of metaphysical realities as it’s labyrinth of trap doors. The reader is pulled into varying spectrums of fiction/in-novel-autobiography that continuously tease an assumption of fact on premises where fact and fiction are uncertain.

[T]o carry a few episodes over into real life, or better said, relive them and correct them if need be. As if certain notes written in my diary up to now had merely been the rough draft of my own life.

Fiction is a form of escape, and both a reader and author can vicariously escape the confines of self through a character. To live out the character is further step into the blending of art and life, yet we see this all the time in our own societies: youths adopt the manner of dress that distinguishes their taste in music, people attempt the convictions of their idols and we are inspired to pursue the aesthetics recommended by our idol’s tastes (I myself am always eager to read a book when it is hailed by an author I respect). However, is there an impenetrable wall between art and life as, unlike rough drafts, we cannot revise our actual past, only mask them in fiction? Or is this divide still somehow permeable? ‘Literature is potent,’ writes the Vila-Matas through novella-Vila-Matas, ‘and life isn’t something just following in it’s wake.’

Because She Never Asked is a success of conceptual art that manages to mimic performance or installation art even through the static canvas of the printed word. The popularity of Vila-Matas is slowly gaining velocity and mass and hopefully further English translations of his deep bibliography will continue to be released. Can we bring art to life, or are the two like ships passing in the night: of the same ocean and rocked by each other’s wake but only able to send up gestures and signals to be interpreted from the opposite docks? Once again, Vila-Matas plunges into these blurry boundaries and extracts a wealth from their mines.

⅘

‘what were we really talking about when we talked about “life”’

¹ Along with her as a translator and journalist, Valerie Miles is the co-founder of Granta en Español. She is co-director of both Granta and the Spanish publication of The New York Review of Books and curator of the Roberto Bolaño Exhibit. Naturally, I’m quite in awe of her.

² A more in-depth and intimate discussion on the author/author-character can be found in the review of Sleepless Nights by Elizabeth Hardwick.

³ Double Game by Sophie Calle is a co-mingling of Calle’s fiction with that of Auster’s character Maria, a character based on Calle from his book Leviathan.

[Stephen P(who no longer can participate due to illness) · Rating 4 out of 5]

What did I think? I think there is nothing further I can add, nor could I have even said, about this book than is already covered in s.penkevich's polished and insightful review. I learned much from it. Also, how much I missed in my reading. Go see it now then return if you like.

All that I can add is my experience of reading this interesting book. While reading, one of my favorite Pre-GR authors, Paul Auster, kept popping into my mind. Another author slipping into a book uninvited is not usual for me. A little later, Vila-Matas mentioned him. There he was, Mr. Auster, looking totally innocent, in print, in the text. As though that were not enough he appeared a few other times. By the end a character in Auster’s book, Leviathan, was based on a character (Real person) in Vila-Matas’ book.

I realized that the style of writing was close enough to be Auster's own. The book written in part to mime him? Call up ghostly visitations? This being a book of sub-stories however, nested within sub-stories, we may very well find in the future that this was book was written by Auster and that the book I read by Vila-Matas being the last nested story within.

A bold theory. Well, it's time for me to take my medications. Enjoy the book and Spenk's review.

[jeremy · Rating 4 out of 5]

i remember how whenever i would finally feel optimistic, i'd end up suspecting that optimism was just another form of sickness.

one of the great joys of reading vila-matas, beyond his obvious erudition and literary playfulness, is the apparent fun he seems to have in composing his works (that his translations maintain this quality is itself remarkable). to speak much of because she never asked (porque ella no lo pidió)'s plot would do a disservice to any potential reader, as the spaniard's storytelling deftness is on full display in this slim novella of craft, intention, expectation, gamesmanship, and art v. life.

with over three dozen works to his name, hopefully further translations (of novels, short stories, and essays alike) will continue apace. enrique vila-matas is startlingly good and his fiction (with singular voice and distinctive style) consistently delights, provokes, and leaves one wanting for more.

"i won't deny," i continued saying, "that i've been tempted to go beyond what i've written. but on second thought, i prefer to stay where i am." no, not another step further into the abyss, the void, and no moving from literature to life. i told her i no longer wanted to abandon my writing to the whim of that sinister hole we call life. i'd been researching, exploring the shadowy abyss i intuited in the uncertain beyond of my writing, and figured it was about time to ask ourselves, especially because of the moment we were living, what were we really talking about when we talked about "life?"

*translated from the spanish by valerie miles (granta en español co-founder, translation professor, and a thousand forests in one acorn editor)

[Tosh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Once every little while, I come upon a writer who has exactly the same concerns as yours truly. In fact, I at times, feel like I wrote his books. Enrique Vila-Matas is my favorite living author. If he died, he would be my favorite dead writer. I like him because he writes about writing. Most, if not all (I haven't yet read everything by him) deals with the literary world - sometimes the by-products of writing, but also the social life of a writer. This short novella "Because She Never Asked" deals with the author's relationship with the French conceptual artist Sophie Calle. Throughout the narrative he tries to start-up a project with her, where reality springs out of literature.

A writer pretty much works in their head, and then on the writing tool of their choice. Here he has a chance to write literature and have it come to life. This, becomes a major conflict in the narrator's life and work. The beauty of this book is his commentary on the nature of writing, and how that in turn, becomes a piece of work. For me, and with my writing, I fully understand Enrique Villa-Matas' concerns and worries. The fact that the book's second character of interest is Calle is an additional plus, and a tribute to her own work, which is often obsessive, secretive, and a touch of danger. A wonderful book.

[Vasileios · Rating 5 out of 5]

Πανέξυπνο κατασκεύασμα του Βίλα-Μάτας που παρουσιάζει την πραγματικόττα για μυθοπλασία και την μυθοπλασία για πραγματικότητα. Που θα έρθει η ισορροπία;

[Jim Elkins · Rating 1 out of 5]

Vertiginous Slide Into Literary Self-Regard

Vila-Matas's "Bartleby & Co." is a kind of masterpiece, and "Montano's Malady" its appendix. But Vila-Matas has a tendency to slide into self-regarding, unchallenging, self-fulfilling meditations on writing, the writer's life, writer's careers, and the life of books, where all that matters is a kind of pale poetry of authors and reputations. The slide is steep enough in "Dublinesque," which is a preposterously, inexcusably hermetically sealed version of literary Ireland consisting only of Vila-Matas's own personal pantheon of mostly older Irish authors. There's nothing of the current Irish literary scene in that book, and of course nothing at all of the texture and sounds of the country itself. Vila-Matas is as far sunken in his literary universe, as padded and cocooned by his world of writers, as Borges or Bellows became in later life. (I have longer and more annoyed reviews of Vila-Matas's books elsewhere on this site.)

The slide away from "real life" is a theme in this book. The author, who presents himself as the narrator, is fascinated with Sophie Calle's "wall novels," and in particular with her idea, proposed to Paul Auster, that he write a novel she would then act out. "For years," Vila-Matas says, he has been "speculating on the relationship between life and literature, rummaging around for a technique to go beyond them, especially beyond literature" (p. 73), and that would be believable, if it weren't for the fact that "beyond literature" doesn't mean anything more than pallid looks at possible real-world interruptions. Vila-Matas writes an aestheticized, safe, anemic sort of poetry in which literature and writers take the place of things, places, and people, and quotations and allusions speak placidly and soothingly among themselves. It's all very "elegant," as he says at the decisive moment at the end of this book (p. 88).

A sign of how deeply things are sunken here is that it would never occur to Vila-Matas that a reader might think his relentless recourse to writers is laughable. In section 3, the narrator is describing a woman who is posing as a private detective. A potential customer comes in and asks the woman to find her ex-husband. He was, she tells the detective, "a famous young writer" (p. 9). (A writer, of course, what else?) A few lines later, we learn the writer had published his "fifth novel... in which he had staged his own disappearance." I doubt I'd be wrong if I said that Vila-Matas would never expect a reader -- like me! -- might write in the margin: Oh, for God's sake!

I don't have a problem imagining a kind of reader for whom this book is a pleasure. Such a reader will be an art-world person, who knows and loves Sophie Calle and Duchamp, and who is also a fan of Spanish literary fiction including Jean Echenoz, Olivier Rolin, and others. (See tinyurl.com/ht24mub for more on this.) But surely the pleasures of recognizing art-world references should be regarded with suspicion. Surely if you read to find mentions of things you know, you're being too easy on yourself and on what you read.

Vila-Matas is so relaxed, so comfortable resting amongst his literary cushions, so pampered by his self-affirming inventories of friends and references, that he's become weak. His imagination can still wander toward what he still calls "real life," but it's the lack of obstacles of any kind, literary or "real," that make the newer work so anemic and distasteful, and so far from the earlier work.

[Andy Weston · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a three part story, with the first part entitled “The Journey of Rita Malú”, a creative story featuring a woman, the title character, who bears a strong resemblance to the French artist Sophie Calle, and has devoted much of her life to imitating her. Almost her double, Rita tries to be like an echo of Calle, discreetly imitating the artist who is also her role model.
Greatly influenced also by Sam Spade, upon receiving an inheritance, Rita sets up a private detective agency, modelled on Spade’s, but struggles to get any business. On a whim, she sets out for the Azores.

The second part explains that the first was written on commission, and provides the background to the project. It’s more philosophical and raises questions in the reader’s mind, which are mostly answered in the final section, as part of a clever twist.

In effect, it’s a really good short story, the first part, that is built on subsequently in typical Vila-Matas fashion.

[Flyingbroom · Rating 4 out of 5]

Too bad the parts written in Portuguese aren't really in Portuguese, more like a kind of Spanish with spelling mistakes. Needs some editing in that sense.
Otherwise interesting. It somehow reminded me of certain films of Pedro Almodovar and, to my surprise, I realised later there was actually a comment of his on the back cover of this edition.

[Alejandro · Rating 2 out of 5]

Los juegos metaficcionales no dejan de tener su encanto, pero cuando se abusa de la fórmula, empeñándose en convertir el relato en una matrioshka dentro de otra matrioshka, que a su vez está contenida en otra, y ésta en otra más, al final el juego se convierte en un sinsentido y uno se pregunta si, después de todo, el autor tenía la más mínima intención de contarnos una historia, tarea que por lo visto, en sí misma, debe parecerle insignificante y apenas digna de esfuerzo.

Respeto mucho a Vila-Matas (otras obras suyas, como 'Bartelby y compañía' o 'Dietario voluble' me han gustado), pero qué queréis que os diga, contar una historia, simplemente eso, limitarse a contar una historia, tampoco está tan mal: a algunos nos sigue gustando. Y es que, si nos pincháis, ¿acaso no sangramos? Si nos hacéis cosquillas, ¿acaso no reímos? Y si nos introducís en el sueño de la ficción y a cada rato nos despertáis, ¿acaso no nos cansaremos?

[Carolina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vila-Matas tiene esa capacidad de mezclar realidad, ficción y una profunda reflexión sobre qué es vivir la vida. Me pareció bellísimo este cruce de artistas que pone en cuestionamiento todo.
«Me doy cuenta de que todas esas frases con las que inauguré mi diario no son trasladables a la vida, son pura literatura»

[Richard · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Oihan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Menudas piruetas hace aquí Vila-Matas, no solo me ha engañado a lo largo del relato sino que, además, ahora —en el mundo real (si es que eso existe)— descubro que lo que parecía mentira, en realidad no lo era. ¿Significa entonces que ocurrió de verdad? Ni zorra. ¡Qué embaucador!

Las trampas literarias dinamitan las de la vida llevando el relato a un formato casi de paisaje en el que mataría por pasar un rato. ¿Quién quiere ir el sábado al centro comercial existiendo semejante escritor?

Un escritor al que, por cierto, Sophie Calle deja en el altar (sonda incluida) y cuya dignidad hace que opte por casarse con el cura (¡figúrate!).

Leedlo, en serio.

[Edward · Rating 3 out of 5]

Vila-Matas writes about his usual preoccupation, the fine line between literature and life with all of the questions it poses. Which is more real? Which is most worthwhile? Are these questions that make any sense even being asked? The reader begins reading what is titled "The Journey of Rita Malu" in some ways a seemingly familiar story by Vila-Matas about doppelgangers and a quest which ends with an enigmatic confrontation with the self. But which self?

Before this question can be answered, or at least explored further, the reader learns that there is no more. The story has ended, a fourth of the way through this slim volume of 90 pages. The writer has stopped writing, a situation that often occurs in the Vila-Matas' other works. He informs the reader that he wrote the story on request for Sophie Calle who appeared in the story. This real (?) person asked him to write a story, and she would live it out, bring it to life? Why this bizarre request? She suggests boredom with her life and would find it more interesting to live the life of a fictitious character.

She mentions several other writers to whom she has made this proposal but they turned her down, perhaps (we don't know for sure) fearing the responsibility of someone living out their fantasies. The American writer, Paul Auster, is named specifically. They agree to meet in person and discuss the project further, but e-mails bog down, Sophie is distracted by her mother's death, and the project seems on the verge of death itself.

It is revived though, by the revelation that this second part is also a fiction and never happened. So now negotiations resume again, this time for real. Why did the author go to the trouble of making up these pseudo - meetings which discussed agreements and disagreements? He writes, "Perhaps I made it up because she never asked." He has a disagreement with his wife about meeting Sophie. She sensibly points out that he is not in the best health and is walking around with a protruding catheter, and that there are more important things in life than discussing how to bring the fantasy of "The Journey of Rita Malu" alive.

His response? "I knew that her words were sensible, but I also knew that art isn't, it never has been: in fact quite the contrary, an effort to get beyond the beaten path. Besides the adventure of living out what I had written seemed entertaining . . ."

He does finally meet with Sophie and reverses himself, deciding that literature is always more interesting than life. "Literature is potent, and life isn't something just following in its wake." Sophie seems to be enigmatically smirking at him as he reiterates that he no longer wants to "abandon my writing to the whim of that sinister hole we call life."

Back to the original questions which finally go unanswered. Truman Capote, the book mentions, was unable to finish his "non-fiction novel" without experiencing the real-life execution of the murderer he wrote about. But he is one writer, and his needs are not those of every writer. In this book, there are multiple characters whose views on fantasy and reality differ, and it's left up to the reader to sort them out.

[Kaleidograph · Rating 5 out of 5]

Let's say I wrote this review and then I found a book to bring it to life.
Let's say the book would be about a review and I would get the author to write it for my review.
Let's say the author wouldn't and so my review would become the book instead.

If all of that sounds needlessly intricate and pretentious, it is because I am not Enrique Vila-Matas. It takes a special kind of writer to write about their own life, their own writing, make up their own life and their own writing in fact and drape it around the actual and imagined persona of Sophie Calle without giving the appearance of ever so carefully climbing into their own ass. Enrique Vila-Matas is that writer. This is a light book, a playful book, an unapologetically simple book - but on top of that it's also meta meta even better!

[Marie-Therese · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yes, this is absurdly self-referential; yes, it's lighter than air, and about as deep as a dewdrop lingering on the bottom of a shaded leaf at midday. But, it's also fun and quirky and just the sort of thing most of us like to read very late at night, on a holiday weekend when we have an extra day off, a bit of an alcohol-induced headache, a stomach roiled by over-indulgence in too rich food and can't quite get to sleep at a reasonable hour. In other words, this is compulsively readable and really quite funny, and the world might be a very slightly sadder place without it (and I certainly would have slept less well).

[freckledbibliophile · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've finished reading Because She never Asked. With the diversity in writing styles mentioned of real life authors and the going back and forth with Sophie, I can only ask myself was this a game played at what's most interesting, real life or creative writing? Is there a difference between the two? Was he trying to say, when referencing Truman Capote that a book cannot be written whether fiction or otherwise, if some merciless truth is not thrown in? The book was different and an introduction read to Vila-Matas, but I do plan on reading more of his work. 3.5/5

[Ainhoa Rebolledo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ojo, una sorpresa muy grata: la misma mierda de Vila-Matas de siempre (que tanto nos gusta) pero con un matiz femenino pues que la hace deliciosa. Se nota que las ilustraciones están puestas para justificar el precio y la tapa dura, que en Random House son tal que así, pero no pasa nada.

[Madhuri · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had a whole lot of fun reading this cunning little book. You read a story, and then read the next one explaining why the first one came about. You are then immersed in the second story, and are hanging about with it’s turns and twists, and the third one comes along - explaining what was going on in the second. By this third story, you are suspicious, as is the narrator. What is really happening and what is a fiction, even though you know that all of the book is a fiction, but the hidden layers still play a havoc in your mind. You want to arrive at the truth, even though it’s going to be a fictional truth.

It seems Matas is writing a story where reality and art build on each other. You imagine a what-if, and try to see how living the what-if will turn out to be, and then you recycle that living into another fiction. What you get is a very complex narrative which appeals to the problem solver. There are some obvious clues for the reader, to keep them hooked. A red house, a ghost, Paul Auster in a story that reads like his work, a writer writing about a woman looking for a lost writer, who also tells people how to find him in his own books.

I read this in a fever dream - on a day when I barely left my couch and alternated between reading this, watching crime series and researching the million colors of fountain pen inks in the blogosphere. Each of the stories became a cyan, a magenta and a yellow and they are still mixing in my mind in different proportions to create a violent palette.

[Marco Sán Sán]

Pinceladas.

El relato que abre la novela es Vila-Matas puro, la ya conocida calidad de entablar en tres o cuatro párrafos complicidad para una narración fluida. Pero los siguientes dos capítulos son de mucha autocomplacencia, delirio estético, sin duda es grato leer páginas bien escritas, pero cuando se vuelve redundante o vano, simplemente es aburrido, bien pudo ahorrarse unas 50 páginas. Aún así el libro se pasa como agua, lectura ociosa, que viniendo de Vila-Matas siempre te deja para reflexión, esta vez poca, pero la hubo.

[Hernán M. Sanabria · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Y yo, por mi parte, decidí concluir, rematar lo que había expuesto y le dije simplemente que para mí la literatura siempre sería más interesante que la famosa vida. Primero porque era una actividad mucho más elegante, y segundo porque me había parecido siempre una experiencia más intensa".

Todos los libros de Vila-Matas son elegantes e intensos. Siempre dará gusto encontrar en su obra un elemento de desacomodo arriesgadamente familiar.

[Tomás Lopera · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es un genio, Vila-Matas, el pretexto para escribir la novela es genial. Lo disfruté mucho.

Pero no sería mi primer libro del autor, primero hay que entrear en su mundo, digamos con el mal de Montano, o Bartleby, asombrarse con lo que puede este animal de la lucidez, después venir a sus universos más pequeños.

[Phinehas · Rating 4 out of 5]

This guy is the best. I want to read everything available in English.

[Jason · Rating 4 out of 5]

A profound and fun gem that overlaps and mixes real life with fiction; a great introduction to Vila-Matas

[Adelaida Metz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vila Matas esta vez vuelve sobre la literatura misma para ponernos entre lo real , la ficción y lo onírico... La pregunta nunca es por qué ni para que escribimos , sino un abismo!

[Ben Bieser · Rating 4 out of 5]

Life is a genre of narrative and narrative is a genre of life. Vila-Matas stages the undecidability of the chiasmus 🔌

[this is not tasneem · Rating 5 out of 5]

took it off a shelf by chance because of its catchy name, and i can say this is one of the most clever books of all time. spectacular.

[Javi · Rating 2 out of 5]

Enrique, siempre anteponiendo la forma al fondo, crea una historia que se va descubriendo en su totalidad de forma no lineal; y que pretende transgredir los límites del papel.

[Edzia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Przeciekawa rzecz!

[Henry · Rating 3 out of 5]

Historia corta y entretenida. Es una lástima que leer la reseña del propio libro te anticipe información importante del libro.

[Nancy Yohana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es un libro sorprendente, que desvela el gran narrador que es Vila-Matas.