Interview with Jose Latour

Known in Cuba for his crime novels and as the vice president of the Latin American division of the International Association of Crime Writers, José Latour makes his English-language, U.S.-published debut with "Outcast." Here José Latour blends cultural critique -- of both U.S. imperialism and Cuban socialism -- with a caustic, smart mystery that follows the experiences of a mixed Cuban-gringo schoolteacher with ties to the underworld. As Elliott Steil untangles the mystery that enshrouds his family's fortune -- and the attempts on his own life -- on both sides of the Florida straits, Latour explores how social context and the will to survive can shape and re-shape a man's identity. (In Cuba, Steil is an awkward, orthopedic-shoe-wearing English teacher, in Miami a clever demimonde operator.) He also takes a long hard look at the complex cultural terrain of the pre- and post-Castro Cuba and U.S.

"Outcast" was nominated for an Edgar Award, and is nearly sold out in the U.S., but will be reprinted next year in hardcover. Another Latour novel, "The Fool," will be published in the U.S. in 2002.

I caught up with José Latour via e-mail -- filtered through the Cuban state server -- to ask a few questions about "Outcast."

Frederick Luis Aldama: Despite the U.S. embargo, it would seem from the picture you paint in "Outcast" that there is a kind of cultural "island bridge" that connects Cuba and the U.S. Tell me how U.S. pop culture -- discarded Coke cans, Cuban air-wave piracy, "Just do me" T-shirts, Larry King and the Hollywood silver screen mentioned in "Outcast" -- influences your fiction writing.

José Latour: Maybe we should start with some historical references which are a lot more important than my writing.

Many people in Cuba and in your country ignore that since the early 19th century, trade and culture forged close links between the island and the U.S. In the 1850s, when Spain was still the colonial power, America became Cuba's main trading partner. During the first half of this century, this grew to over 80 percent of all trade. American literature, music, and movies notably influenced our culture in that period.

At present, the main influence comes from the exiled community. Remittances, presents, and frequent visits create a strong presence of U.S. products in Cuban households. The government imports American food, liquors, and cigarettes from neighboring countries -- Mexico, Panama, etc. -- which are intended for foreigners mainly, but a considerable percentage of the population has the dollars to buy them too, provided by relatives living abroad in most cases.

Three out of every four films that Cubans watch are made in the States (reason: no royalties are paid). American music is appreciated by the young and the not-so-young. Airwave piracy was a favorite distraction until the signals were codified.

As you may realize, all these factors must be taken into account when you write about the son of an American who visited Florida on numerous opportunities in his childhood and becomes an English teacher in adulthood.

F.L.A.: You seem to reference many historical events as the plot of "Outcast" unwinds. Is there something particular about the crime novel genre that leads to this type of historical excavation?

J.L.: Specifically in Latin American crime fiction, historical digging is frequent. In Argentina, for example, the right-wing dictatorship of the 1970s is a recurring theme. The same phenomena is present in Mexican crime literature. In Cuba, the Batista era produced a huge number of fictional books rooted in reality. This also happens, in lesser degree, in American crime literature.

It would seem that crime writers have a strong inclination toward sociological and historical issues.

F.L.A.: "Outcast" gravitates largely around Elliot Steil's quest to uncover his U.S. Anglo father's past -- a father whom he last saw when he was a boy, on Oct. 14, 1959.

Are the dates significant? How does the personal inform the political and historical, and vice-versa? For example, is there a larger significance to Elliot's separation from his father vis-à-vis the history of US/Cuba relations?

J.L.: No special significance was assigned to dates, but many years ago I found that chronological correspondence is unavoidable to achieve a ring of authenticity.

True-life stories are present in practically every novel. The questions should be: How much is personal and how much has been appropriated from others? In "Outcast" it's difficult to say. I am not a teacher but I have met a few during the infancy and puberty of my son and daughter. My father was Cuban. I love the sea that Elliot hates. I wasn't born and raised in a small town close to a sugar refinery. I have never been a womanizer or an alcoholic, but I know men who have been both. Nonetheless, I lived in the countryside in my infancy, sometimes the sea and its creatures scare the bejesus out of me, I have drunk liquor on numerous occasions and...beautiful women are so attractive!

Moving on, I would say that in the Cuban history of the last forty years, political events have influenced the lives of millions, and vice-versa. But the father-son separation was not intended to be considered a metaphor in which the U.S. is the father and Cuba the son.