An Interview with Marisol Vera by Vivian Lavín
“Chile, fertile province, renowned in the famed Antarctic region,” declares the opening line of the epic poem La Araucana (1569) by Alonso de Ercilla — a poem that speaks of a country which did not yet exist as such, yet left a profound poetic imprint on a nation that would later earn two Nobel Prizes in Literature and build a literary prestige it is now keen to showcase as Guest of Honour at the Frankfurt Book Fair 2027.
We spoke with Marisol Vera, publisher of Cuarto Propio and one of the key women in Chile’s publishing sector. Founded in 1984, Cuarto Propio’s catalogue is an essential reference for understanding Chilean and Latin American poetry, aesthetic criticism, and essays — particularly those addressing women’s voices and diversity from a contemporary perspective.
We invite you to learn more about her story and beyond.
You studied Economics at the University of Chile, but before that you lived with your family in the United States and Europe. In other words, your background isn’t that of a traditional Chilean economist; you lived in Europe during the 1960s, a time of great political and humanist ferment. Could you share the personal and family milestones that shaped your inner world?
In truth, I began studying Economics at the University of Chile in the sixties, at the age of sixteen. I continued my studies at the University of Maryland, where I completed my college degree. In those years, the issues in the US were peace, not war, protests against racism, and all forms of violence. I fervently embraced those causes, thrived on the revolutionary music of the times, went to the Woodstock Festival… the world was ours to change. Then I moved to Switzerland, where my world widened profoundly. It was there that I understood and made my own the belief that social injustice had deep roots in the entire system, and I would find a way to add my modest contribution to changing the status quo, though I did not yet know from which trench. In 1973, I returned to Chile and, for the first time, found myself faced with the devastating effects of the dictatorship. I went back to the University of Chile to complete my studies. Whatever I learned and developed later in life bears the mark of my early family life.
Which works and authors have left a mark on you, considering that the name Cuarto Propio itself alludes to an essential author like Virginia Woolf and her book A Room of One’s Own? How did the feminist reader develop within you?
Reading has been my principal occupation for as long as I can remember. I dearly recall the impact of discovering the literary universe brought to me by Alexandre Dumas, Charles Dickens, Manuel Rojas, Marcela Paz, María Luisa Bombal, James Oliver Curwood, Jane Austen, Louisa May Alcott, Oscar Wilde, among so many others — not to mention the fantastic stories in the “Treasure for the Youth” collection. After Simone de Beauvoir and A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf, my feminist readings were suspended until later in life.
By the time I returned to Chile, I had a significant encounter with Julieta Kirkwood and her firm conviction that a real democracy could only be achieved by obtaining equality at home and at work. Even if I was not completely convinced at the time, as the years went by it began to make more and more sense to me, as I understood that the basic premise on which inequality was based was that all human beings were not equal. Not only did men and women supposedly have different “natural” capacities by their mere sex — men being superior, of course — but that premise also encompassed all “differences” from the canon: social class, gender differences, neurological divergences, and so on. Then I became interested again in feminist critical and literary writers and artists, such as Beatriz Sarlo, Judith Butler, Raquel Olea, Angela Davis, Frida Kahlo, among others, and naturally in Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, Diamela Eltit, Nelly Richard, to mention only a few.
More than forty years have passed since the founding of Cuarto Propio publishing house, yet the need for spaces for art and critical thought remains scarce, especially when it comes to the voices of women and dissidents. Could you share an overview of the main milestones over these decades?
The first thought that comes immediately to my mind is the enormous difference between the eighties and today as far as women’s rights and the open recognition and social validation of gender and other differences are concerned. While it is true that we are still far from eradicating the patriarchal model — the goal of achieving democracy at home and at work, as Kirkwood put it — the evidence of change in the official discourse, not only at the academic level but also in the legal regulations and practices to protect women and dissidences from gender violence and discrimination, and the proliferation at the global level of independent publishing houses led by women and/or including gender in their catalogues, have all created a new conscience and a critical perspective on the old patriarchal system, as well as a very stimulating and different discussion on the meaning of equality. I would say that rather than a space of resistance, Cuarto Propio has been a space of proposals, as have the many other initiatives that have flourished during these years.
Cuarto Propio dedicates its work to four literary genres: essays, poetry, narrative, and drama. How did these editorial lines come about and develop over time?
Creation and critical thinking are manifested in every existing discipline. Poetry, in Chile particularly, has been one of the genres where revolutionary exploration of words and meanings has developed with great literary achievements. The essay was, from the beginning, a fundamental part of our project: to contribute to the development of critical thinking not only from and about Chile, but about Latin American culture and society. Dramaturgy, cinema, documentary, and other artistic expressions were also crucial, at different times, to obtain a more complete understanding of our diverse sociocultural reality.
Which Chilean authors always come to mind when you look at your catalogue?
Immediately, the names that come to mind — authors published by us — are Stella Díaz-Varín, Diamela Eltit, Nelly Richard, Pedro Lemebel, Carmen Berenguer, Malú Urriola, Elvira Hernández, Lina Meruane, Nona Fernández, Raquel Olea, Soledad Fariña, Graciela Huinao… and so many others.
The author-editor relationship isn’t always easy… it starts like falling in love but can go through crises and breakups. What lessons have you learned that you can share with other editors on this path?
The first thing I have learned about relationships with authors is that whatever agreement is reached must be extensively talked through. When everything is clear, it should then be written down and formally signed. Most of the few difficulties I have encountered are related to the gap between their expectations and the reality of the book market, nationally and worldwide. Unfortunately, the idea of becoming a best-seller has permeated some of them. Fortunately, very few; understandably so, but it is far removed from the literary character of our publications.
How do you assess the current state of copyright law related to translation? It’s impossible to ignore new technologies and AI. How do you feel about them? Are they distant concepts, or do you fear them? What impact do you foresee on the publishing industry?
An interesting question. It leads me to the wider discussion about what differentiates the large transnational publishers from the independent ones. In the first segment, we find an industry that is more commercially oriented, where economic results are the determining factor. As such, in the still-existing void of clear legal regulations regarding authors’ rights on translations, the indiscriminate use of AI has become the norm, as it is considered an important cost that can thus be avoided. Of course, there must be exceptions, nothing is that black and white. In the independent publishing segment, on the contrary, the cultural value of the publications is the main concern; the translator is considered a creator, a co-author. His or her participation is not neutral, but fundamental.
I will share with you one experience we had with our translation of A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf. Our first intention was to buy the rights to the translation done by the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges. But when I read it, I could not find Woolf’s spirit as I had perceived it in the original English version. It was Borges’s interpretation of her work. So, I discarded it and decided to proceed with a translation of our own, as I wanted a version that, from my perspective, kept that spirit, that flow of her writing, the subtleties of her magnificent thought — that made sense to me. And I want to emphasize the subjectivity of that “made sense to me,” the editor. It was our perspective, which contributes to the bibliodiversity we seek. That, AI cannot replace. And I perceive a similar stance in independent publishing. I must say I am very critical of the indiscriminate use of AI in literary, social, and cultural studies in general. It not only impoverishes the final text but also ignores the accumulated intellectual work of translators that AI uses to produce the translation. Overall, I do not fear AI, but rather I fear the unethical use of it, and the fact that we are still far from understanding its real impact on our culture. Without proper regulation, I have no doubt about its negative impact.
You mentioned the word “bibliodiversity,” which was introduced by Chilean independent publishers in the late nineties and seeks cultural richness depending on genres, languages, and cultures. Tell us about your perspective on “bibliodiversity” in the current global panorama.
The current editorial panorama seems very promising to me; I feel so happy every time a new publisher enters the stage. The proliferation of independent publishers — unthinkable forty years ago, when Cuarto Propio was founded — has contributed enormously to the “bibliodiversity” that seemed so threatened by the power large transnational corporations had acquired in the Hispanic world at that time. And what that meant: cultural re-colonization, the invisibilization of regional cultures, and everything that comes with that. And last, but not least, the tendency in this segment has been towards association, showing a clear awareness in the sector that individual efforts are strongly multiplied when working in association with peers — that competition (which was the principle installed by the neoliberal system) works in the opposite direction.
Happily, the association and the proliferation of independent publishers that I see currently will protect and promote the “bibliodiversity” we all seek.
