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THE EYES
Emetic Fables from the Andalusian de SadeBy Jesus Ignacio AldapuertaTranslated by Lucia Teodora
 
INTRODUCTION
 Jesus Ignacio Aldapuerta was born in the southern Spanish city of Seville circa 1950 anddied by suicide in Madrid in 1987, burning himself to death in a small room on whoserent he was nearly three months in arrears. He is known to have spent much of his lifeoutside Spain, in Central and South American and the Philippines; what precisely he didthere remains uncertain, and confirmation or refutation of the many rumours, variouslyunsavoury and contradictory, that circulated during his lifetime will have to wait for thecomplete decipherment of his coded diaries. The following ‘confessions’ were found inletters and previous interviews.In his homeland, his chief income seems to have been that of a petty criminal, and servedseveral prison sentences of theft and drug offences, the longest and most harrowing underFranco. What money he generated from his activities was generally spent on books,almost invariably pornographic, and prostitutes. His appetite for scatological literaturebegan in his early teens, inspired by frequent visits to a bookshop in Madrid where hewas introduced to pornographic pamphlets and the works of de Sade. The proprietorrealized the strength of his interest and soon suggested trading volumes for sexualfavours. Aldapuerta was perfectly satisfied with the arrangement and would “have the oldman’s cock jabbing in my arse even when ready cash was available”, and even when theshelves contained nothing of worth he “sucked that foul Costilla de carno for abundantmonetary reward”.Later, Aldapuerta spent two years at medical school where he learned the geography of the human body and something of its almost infinite capacity for suffering anddegradation. He took especial delight in tending to the physically incapacitated and wasthankful for the loose coats that “prevented the matrona from spotting the engorged cock that I would occasionally press against the bedridden patient”. On one occasion he found,wrapped in a wad of medical gauze ready for disposal, “a tiny circlet of white flesh”.Instantly fascinated, he washed the circumcised foreskin and took it home. He boasted tohaving stretched it over his own penis and “ejaculating in an instant and without manualstimulation”. But Aldapuerta’s stories are notable for embellishment and invention, andhis catalogue of medical anecdotes may be nothing more then outrageous exaggeration.Needless to say, he failed to complete his term at medical school.Aldapuerta’s mother probably encourage him to write: she wrote as a hobby and hadsome success in contributing poems to women’s magazines. However, these efforts tendtowards the romantic and sickly-sweet and hold no indication of the fervid nastiness of Aldapuerta’s writings. (Unless, of course, one were to read Aldapuerta’s writing as overtanti-influence.) It wasn’t until after his death that his family became aware of the moreextreme work, but even by that time they had virtually disowned him.Like most of the later years of his life, Aldapuerta’s death is shrouded in rumour andspeculation. During his final year, 1987, associates remarked a sudden unhealthyappearance and palpable air of apathy. Some said these were related to an overdue mentalbreakdown brought on by failure to achieve the literary fame he so much desired. Othersclaimed he was infected with AIDS and dread of the disease’s full onset prompted hisunexpected suicide. Suicide, of course, was the official cause of his death. But there wasother contradictory gossip about his being the victim of a murderous vendetta carried outby right-wing religious vigilantes outraged by his blasphemous writings and life-style.
 
This is, no doubt, sensational speculation, as is the story that Aldapuerta was tortured andmurdered by unpaid drug traffickers. Nonetheless, he would indubitably have been pleaseby the confusion and scandal surrounding his death.In March, 987, his partly cremated body was removed from his apartment, the buildingitself saved from conflagration by the unusually rapid arrival of the emergency services.The authorities took away various unburned books, documents – including whatremained of his coded diaries, and finished and unfinished manuscripts – a small quantityof drugs, and the petrol canister that the police said was sufficient proof of self-immolation. One other curious item found in his apartment, and photographed in thehands of a smiling policia, was an intricately carved dildo fashioned from the femur of achild. Aldapuerta had told several people about this device, his hueso, and how it wasideal for perineo stimulation during intercourse or masturbation. Prior to his death,however, most believe the story to be yet another example of Aldapuerta’s deliberatelyaudacious mendacity. No foul play was suspected and the dildo was officially accepted tobe a grotesque memento picked up during one of his sojourns in South America wheresimilar human remnants are widely available. Perhaps this is an example of Aldapuerta’scunning: his allegations were so outrageous that no one believed him, facts were so hardto distinguish from fiction that many believed all his stories to be invented.What of his fiction? Was he confessing appalling sins in his writings? Again, like hisdrunken anecdotes, there was probably a fusion, or confusion, of fact and fiction, orperhaps mere embellishment and exaggeration of lesser events perhaps only experiencedat secondhand. For instance, the theme of ‘Armful’ concerns paedophilia and cannibalismtaken to a shocking extreme. Whether Aldapuerta indulged in such practices is not know,but he allegedly confided to a friend concerning the circumcised foreskin he stole fromthe hospital ‘The corona soon lost its flexibility and became tough and dry. It had nofurther practical use so I ate it.”There is no doubt that Aldapuerta had a fascination with human remains. Further to theincidents above, in 1976, he is said to have been detained at Spanish Customs whenreturning from a trip to Central America. He had $4000 cash in a hold-all, which heinsisted was payment for mercenary activities. What alarmed Customers Officers morewas the contents of a small package Aldapuerta carried under his arm. Inside were twodried human hands, which Aldapuerta said he had purchased form a trading post dealingin war trophies. The body parts were seized and Aldapuerta detained for several hours.His only regret, other then losing his trophies, was that “they didn’t poke around in myarse for contrabando, as I had contracted a dreadful stomach illness and would havegladly showered them all in the excrement they deserved.”Such was his life, or at least the stories told about it. What of his work? In the Spanish-speaking world it remains little known, and his precarious European reputation restschiefly on translations into French. This would undoubtedly have pleased him, for hisliterary idol par excellence was the Marquis de Sade, whose work indeed forms the onlysuitable comparison for much of Aldapuerta’s “vile, blasphemous and more then emetic”cannon. In English, the only work of his available to date had been a single short storycollection, Los Ojos/The Eyes, translated by Aldapuerta himself and published at his ownexpense in the year before his death: he expressed a wish that by placed some of his work in the “international idiom” he might achieve some of the success that had continuallyeluded him in Spanish. Copies of this version of The Eyes are extremely rare, and likely
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