The Peruvian Nobel Mario Vargas Llosa He died in Lima on Sunday, at 89. The prolific writer, author of universal works as The goat party, Conversation in the cathedral o The city and dogsdid not remain outside the advance of technology or its penetration in different areas of society, including art.
In an interview published in the newspaper Time from Colombia, the novelist said that “Technology prints a certain superficiality to literature. On the screen you write informally, it does not institute respect.” Instead, he said that paper “Infuse an almost religious respect to the writer”and declared stunned before “The grammatical destitution of the texts made for the Internet”. He added that the screen “I promote easy, frivolity, and rigor disappears”.
Vargas Llosa clarified on that occasion that he was not against the network, but warned that “If literature is done only for screens, it will be impoverished, because the screen makes it lose depth and risk.”
In your story The windswe also observe this criticism of the frivolous impact of technology on literature, cinema and arts in general:
“No young Madrid cares that the last cinemas of Madrid disappear; they never put their feet on them, they had become accustomed to seeing the movies they ordered – if you can call movies to those images that have fun to the new generations – on the screens of their computers, their electronic and mobile tablets.”
It also refers to artificial intelligence and the way in which produce —Because it is ridiculous to say that writes– Texts tailored to each user:
“Since the custom of reading novels in charge of the computer was generalized, I renounced to read those that occur – it would be ridiculous to say ‘write’ in our day. (…) Who was going to take seriously a novel manufactured by a computer according to the client’s instructions: ‘I want a story that occurs in the nineteenth century, with duels, tragic loves, quite sex, a dwarf, a dwarf, a dog Pederasta cure ‘.
The winds is, Of course, much more than a criticism of the digital world. It is a sincere outburst, a bitter confession, a cry of the Nobel against the contemporary world.