A Samanta Schweblin short story can creep up on you and twist into the paranormal or turn through a series of routine events leading to a shockingly disturbing conclusion. Some stories are subtle; some are blatantly brutal. But all of the Argentine author's tales will invade your mind in the most unexpected ways and remain in your memory as they change hues or slide into completely different shapes and colors.
In this collection of twenty tales, you'll encounter a teenage girl whose diet consists exclusively of small birds; an elementary school where hundreds of butterflies fly out the door ahead of the boys and girls, leaving a parent stunned into contemplating life and death; a waiter at a country restaurant who must deal with his wife lying dead on the kitchen floor; and a human cannonball from the circus facing the fact that his body is quickly fading.
To share a strong taste of Schweblin's storytelling magic, I will make one stunning tale from this collection the focus of my review: The Heavy Suitcase of Benavides.
THE HEAVY SUITCASE OF BENAVIDES
The Deed - Benavides returns to his room with his large suitcase. "He doesn't regret his actions. He thinks that the stabbing of his wife had been fair, but he also knows that few people would understand his reasons." What! Does this man actually think he has sufficient reasons for stabbing his wife? And can such a brutal action in any way be deemed fair?
The Plan - Benavides opts for the following plan: "Wrap the body in garbage bags to keep the blood from seeping. Open the suitcase next to the bed and take every pain required to bend the body of a woman dead after twenty-nine years of marriage, and push it toward the floor so it falls into the suitcase. Unaffectionately cram the extra flesh into the free space, finally getting the body to fit." We learn Benavides is a very small man as well as an extremely organized man, and within a few hours he's on the street, pulling the suitcase toward Dr. Corrales's house.
The Maestro - When Benavides finally enters the doctor's house, he's not surprised to find Corrales playing a piano sonata with the consummate skill of a virtuoso. Once done, his young, beautiful admirers applaud and hand him a glass of champagne. As readers, we can only wonder how much time this medical doctor has devoted to playing the piano at the expense of dealing with his patients.
A Dream Possibly? - When Benavides insists he needs to show the doctor what's in his suitcase, Corrales tells him he's got five minutes and invites Benavides into his study. However, the study is at the top of two flights of stairs, and poor Benavides, struggling and sweating as he climbs each step, thinks his current predicament at 2:30 a.m. is so preposterous that it could all be a dream.
The Doctor Takes Charge - Benavides tells Corrales what he did but claims he's confused, it must be a mistake, even a dream. The doctor's reaction? He insists Benavides take two pills with a glass of water and rest in a spare bedroom down the hall while he himself attends to his wife. Can this be considered a responsible response for a man of medicine? Very odd. Anyway, Benavides does as Corrales asks and spends the remainder of the night asleep in the spare bed.
Flesh and Blood - Benavides wakes up the next morning and promptly races down the hall back to the room where he left his suitcase. It's no longer there. Benavides searches all the rooms and hallways—and finds nothing. He walks downstairs to the kitchen, looking for Corrales. The doctor appears and lets Benavides know he has stored his suitcase in the garage. A few moments later, prompted by the little husband, Corrales struggles to open the suitcase and asks for help. Benavides is finally able to open his suitcase and finds, "his wife is curled up like a fetus, her head bent inward, her knees and elbows forced into the rigid, leather-lined box, her fat filling up all the empty space . . . Threads of blood trickle toward him over the floor."
The Shock - Corrales approaches the suitcase without taking his eyes from its contents. The doctor's eyes are full of tears, and he finally turns to meet Benavides's gaze. "Benavides . . . This is drastic. It's . . . It's . . . wonderful." The doctor continues: "You are a genius. And to think that I underestimated you, Benavides. A genius. Let's see. Let me clear my head--it's not small thing you're proposing with this . . ." Corrales heads for the garage exit and keeps repeating in a low voice, "Genius, truly beautiful."
Philosophic Interlude - What is this medical doctor thinking? True, he's an accomplished classical pianist and obviously attuned to the finer things in life. But how can an act of uxoricide, the murder of one's wife, be judged as wonderful? Even beautiful? And Benavides himself as a genius, as if the little husband created a great work of art?
The Expert - Corrales invites Donorio, an art expert, to join him and Benavides on a walk to the garage to behold the masterwork. Once in the presence of Benavides's wife in the suitcase, Donorio muses on violence reproduced in its most primitive form. Savage. He could touch it, smell it. He informs Corrales, "This is going to go over well." Benavides tries to object, but he is quickly cut off. Donorio proclaims to the little man, "It's extraordinary! Horror and beauty! You're going to be rich, famous! There is zero competition with a work like this one. The public will fall at your feet."
The tale continues, and all of the absurdity of ignoring a clear case of murder in favor of art and the creative act, spectacle and stardom, escalates.
Samanta Schweblin is a keen observer of society and what is conventionally considered proper. With this short story, she asks readers to consider how easily we humans can shuffle our sense of values between aesthetics and ethics. Should we take the side of Benavides, who insists his wife remains his wife and not be turned into an art object? Or, on the other hand, should we give any weight at all to the views of an expert like Donorio?
Can we ever allow art to become an excuse or reason for putting others' health—or one's own health—in jeopardy? I'm thinking here not only of Schweblin's tale but also of that Italian film, The Great Beauty, where a young, attractive Italian female performance artist, completely naked with her head wrapped in gauze, sprints headfirst into a stone wall.
Again, The Heavy Suitcase of Benavides is one of twenty tales in this fine collection. Samanta Schweblin is worth any reader's time. Highly recommended.
Argentine author Samanta Schweblin, born 1978
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