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Juan Goytisolo, Prodigal Son

David T. Gies

Forbidden Territory: The Memoirs of Juan Goytisolo, 1931—1956. Translated by Peter Bush. North Point Press. $18.95.

Since Rousseau (or at least since Lillian Hellman) we have known that "autobiography" is the art of lying gracefully, an act of self re-creation mediated by memory, purpose, and language. As Jean Guehenno informs us in his work on Rousseau (1962), sincerity and truth are not necessarily synonymous, a statement equally applicable to Juan Goytisolo, one of Spain's best-known contemporary novelists. Forbidden Territory may be sincere, but its truthfulness has been questioned even by Goytisolo's novelist brother Luis. In Investigatiónes y conjeturas de Claudia Mendoza (1985) he contradicts Juan's "memories" of the house they grew up in in Barcelona and the experiences of their early childhood. He does not suggest that his recollections are more correct—that he is a "privileged reader" of their past—only different, but some of Juan's readings of his childhood experiences do not square with Luis's (Luis writes that the differences are so great that he would have to write a book as long as Forbidden Territory to put them straight). Among other things, Luis defends his grandfather against Juan's accusations of pederasty and his father against Juan's portrayal of him as a tyrant. Where does the "truth" reside? Impossible to tell, and probably irrelevant, since Forbidden Territory, the work of an exciting and provocative novelist, should be read as fiction rather than as fact.