Inside the Mind of Borges: An Afternoon with a Literary Genius

Embark on a Journey into the Ideaverse of Jorge Luis Borges

What if a simple request to curate an anthology turned into a four-hour journey through the labyrinthine mind of one of the 20th century's greatest writers?

An Unexpected Afternoon

It was 1969, on an unremarkable afternoon in Buenos Aires, when a young editor knocked on Jorge Luis Borges' door. Ricardo Piglia—who would later become one of Argentina's celebrated authors and critics—was working for a publishing house called Tiempo Contemporáneo. That day he was dispatched on a literary mission: to ask the renowned author, Jorge Luis Borges, to select stories by Joseph Conrad for an anthology and perhaps pen a preface.

Despite his fame, Borges was known for his accessibility. As Piglia recounts, “If one called him and told him why one wanted to see him, and if what one wanted made sense... he would say ‘Come over.’” Borges had a soft spot for Conrad's stories and praised the idea: “What a good idea, no one had thought of it before.”

The Art of Digression: Borges' Mind at Work

The meeting began promisingly. Borges suggested Conrad's The Duel as the first story, describing its plot about two soldiers engaged in a private duel during the Napoleonic Wars. However, this focus on Conrad quickly began to shift. Piglia observed, “Then he immediately began to tell me about duels. And as the afternoon wore on... we forgot about Conrad.”

Borges began with an anecdote that transported them to ancient Rome. “Once, Julius Caesar was about to start a battle, and the enemy general said to him: well, instead of so many people dying, why don't we two fight a duel?” Caesar, ever the skilled orator, replied: “Yes, of course, but I'll send you a gladiator if you'd like.” (Borges showing his penchant for moments where wit trumps bravado.)

From there, Borges leaped forward to 19th-century France, recounting a duel between literary giants Sainte-Beuve and Victor Hugo. Borges explained that Hugo, though disapproving of duels, couldn't refuse the challenge due to societal norms of the time. So Hugo attended the duel carrying a yellow-painted umbrella, a silent protest against a practice he disapproved of but couldn't avoid. (Here, Borges' fascination with personal eccentricity shines through.)

Right after, Borges settled comfortably into his armchair and carried on with a tale that brought them closer to home: it was a local tale from a small town in the province of Buenos Aires. In this town, there was a guapo, one of those brawny, fearless men typical of Borges' stories. This guapo, named Soto, was known as the bravest man in the area, a figure who commanded respect and instilled fear in the townspeople.

One day, a shabby circus arrived in the town. It was one of those rustic, country circuses that traveled from village to village. Among the performers was a lion tamer, an audacious man who would place his head inside the jaws of a lion. This fearless act quickly earned him the title of the bravest man in town. Coincidentally, this lion tamer was also named Soto.

This coincidence amused Borges greatly: “This man had many problems because every time he went to the bar for a gin, the other Soto would appear and confront him, saying, ‘Acá sobra un Soto’ (‘There’s one Soto too many here’).” This constant challenge left the poor lion tamer with no choice but to flee through the back door, never to return.

Borges continued this pattern for nearly four hours, completely engrossed in the exploration of duels. Until, the setting sun brought the conversation to a halt, and the two gentlemen exchanged a rushed but cordial farewell. Too late. By then, the original purpose of their meeting had been entirely forgotten.

Connecting the Dots: Borges' Associative Thinking

Piglia left empty-handed on selected stories for the Conrad anthology, that’s right, but his afternoon host had given him something far more precious: a glimpse into the inner workings of his imagination, popularly known as Jorge Luis Borges' labyrinthine mind.

Borges' thoughts functioned like an intricate web, with a single idea at its center—in this case, “duels.” From there, connections radiated outward, each linking to another story, time, and place.

“It functions with a series united by an axis, even though the common material is incredibly varied,” Piglia explained. The concept of duels had catalyzed a chain reaction of associations, by which Borges carried his listener far from the initial topic and onto ancient Rome, 19th-century France, and rural Argentina.

Piglia likened this method of thinking to “Pascal's sphere.” Just as every point on a sphere's surface can be its center, every idea in Borges' mind could become the epicenter of a new universe of thought. “Suddenly he takes a metaphor and follows it,” Piglia noted. It was a process of continuous expansion, starting from a single point (in this case, Conrad's The Duel) and building outward to encompass an entire web of interconnected ideas.

In Borges' mind, Caesar's wit, Hugo's yellow umbrella, and the tale of two Sotos weren't separate anecdotes, but interconnected nodes in a vast network of human experience, each thread vibrating with the possibility of new adventures in thought.

Choice and Consequence: “The Garden of Forking Paths”

Luckily, Borges' associative thinking wasn't confined to conversations—it was the very foundation of his literary creations. In The Garden of Forking Paths, we see his labyrinthine mind crystallized into narrative form.

The story presents a labyrinth of time, where every decision spawns multiple realities. Yu Tsun, a Chinese spy in World War I England, stumbles upon a perplexing novel written by his ancestor, Ts'ui Pên. This novel-within-a-story is a temporal maze where “all possible outcomes occur; each one is the point of departure for other forkings.”

Just as Borges jumped from Caesar to Hugo to rural Argentina, The Garden of Forking Paths carries us through a labyrinthine tale spanning World War I espionage, ancient Chinese literature, and philosophical musings on the nature of time and reality. Each element is distinct, yet in Borges' masterful hands, they form a cohesive whole, united by the exploration of how our choices shape the very fabric of our realities.

Like the concept of “duels” that spawned a four-hour conversational odyssey, one choice and its consequence can branch into countless narrative possibilities in The Garden of Forking Paths.

Borges' Interpretation of Identity: All is One

Piglia's encounter with Borges revealed a crucial aspect of the author's worldview: “Borges only sees identity, never difference.” This perspective turns the world into a hall of mirrors where, paradoxically, opposition often reflects an underlying sameness and unity.

According to Piglia, Borges possessed a unique virtue—or perhaps an extra eye—that allowed him to capture the “Equal to...” in everything. Everywhere he looked, Borges saw equality, connections, and similarities where others might only perceive differences.

This perspective is vividly illustrated in Borges' fiction. In his stories, those who confront each other often turn out to be the same. Take The Theologians, for instance. Two rival scholars, so different in life, seek to assert their doctrinal superiority. However, in the afterlife—“in the heaven of heavens”—they discover they are one and the same person. The lines between opposition and sameness blur, suggesting that in the grand scheme of things, these theologians were always parts of a whole.

Piglia noted, “There's always a place where opposites end up identifying with each other.” This logic of identity duplication is a powerful element of Borges' imagination, manifesting not just in his writing but in how he perceived the world around him.

Consider the tale of the two Sotos that so amused Borges. A local tough and a lion tamer, sharing only a name, become entangled in a battle for their identity. This anecdote perfectly encapsulates Borges' fascination with the arbitrary nature of identity and how easily it can be disrupted or questioned.

In Borges' world, a duel between 19th-century French writers is not so different from a confrontation in rural Argentina. Both are expressions of human pride, of the need for recognition, of the universal dance between life and death. This ability to see the cosmic in the mundane, to recognize the common threads that bind us all—be we ancient Romans, French writers, or Argentine guapos—is what makes Borges' writing so powerful and enduring.

Reflections on Borges' Legacy

Borges’ remarkable literary work, associative thinking, and the enlightening conversation with Ricardo Piglia, all testify to a mind that saw connections where others saw only disparate elements.

Borges' legacy isn't just about literary technique; it's about a way of engaging with the world. It's about cultivating curiosity and being open to the unexpected connections that life presents us. It's about recognizing that every story, idea, and moment is a potential center of a new universe of thought.

In our age of information overload and increasing specialization, Borges' approach is more relevant than ever. While we are often nudged to narrow our interests and delve deeper into smaller fields, Borges champions the value of breadth. He encourages us to let our minds wander, to revel in making unexpected connections.

As we carry on our intellectual journeys, Borges’ legacy serves as a poignant reminder that every point can be the center, that every idea contains multitudes, and that the journey of discovery never truly ends. By embracing this mindset, we too might discover new pathways of thought in the most ordinary of afternoons.