Featured Author: Fogwill
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In December 1978, I made love with a punk girl. To say “I made love” is just an expression, because love was made long before my arrival in London, and what she and I made, that multitude of things sh... -
ZERO Now, aboard an airplane returning from Buenos Aires to Barcelona, Rodríguez peers—like someone spying at a door left ajar—between the two seats in front of him, and catches a glimpse of what the... -
Rodolfo Enrique Fogwill was able to get people to call him Fogwill, just like that. His last name was also his first name and a brand. By speaking, and speaking in a certain time and place (the early...
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I’m a writer who tries to avoid being written about, Rodrigo Enrique Fogwill—whose second middle name was Samuel—once said, or wrote. But time passes, gradually relaxing its imperative to forget, and...
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I met Fogwill when I had my first bookstore in Buenos Aires, in the year 2005. He was living close by, in a hotel. He had just separated from one of his partners, and, because my bookstore was nearby,... -
Fogwill was always there, intimately linked to my life. He’s still there, too: in part from the wound his absence has left in my memory, and in part because his voice, his awareness, his expression re... -
It was in December 2010 that I first set foot in the writer Rodolfo Fogwill’s house. This was in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires, four blocks from where Jorge Luis Borges once lived. Fogwill’... -
I’m here, he’s not. Therefore, everything I write about him will be a betrayal. “Betrayal!” Fogwill would say, with that naive use of exclamation points he relished and employed to amuse himself. How... -
Most of the essays that make up this dossier refer to the name of Rodolfo Enrique Fogwill, one of Argentina’s most important authors of his generation, who passed away ten years ago. His friends used...
