A brief glance at history reveals that a Nobel prize often marked by nonsense, by the grossest stupidity and manipulation. In a pointed article Oscar Collazos showed that the list of great writers who died without having received it, is of dignity that accompanies the winners.
" I will not talk about Marcel Proust and Nabokov, Joyce and Ezra Pound. I promise to say nothing of Graham Greene or Robert Musil. None of Virginia Wolf and Herman Broch, Marguerite Yourcenar and Robert Graves, who died in Deia, Mallorca, bearing the stigma of being the greatest living poet "important" in English. Each separately, and we in amorphous mass of fans, we know that is easier to endure injustice overcome the ambiguity of success, especially when it is unanimously by the dubious legitimacy of a great prize.
would be preferable to speak of Joao Guimaraes Rosa, Juan Rulfo, Alejo Carpentier, José Lezama Lima and Juan Carlos Onetti, because it is virtually impossible to think that before 1959 the Swedes were aware of the immense work of Alfonso Reyes, as it is likely that , incidentally, had read translations of César Vallejo and Vicente Huidobro . "
would be preferable to speak of Joao Guimaraes Rosa, Juan Rulfo, Alejo Carpentier, José Lezama Lima and Juan Carlos Onetti, because it is virtually impossible to think that before 1959 the Swedes were aware of the immense work of Alfonso Reyes, as it is likely that , incidentally, had read translations of César Vallejo and Vicente Huidobro . "
So Collazos evaluated at the beginning of his article" The importance of not to wait "the bittersweet theme of Nobel, and we could add more details . For example, it has to do with the fact that the Swedish Academy resists to recognize the young genius, daring and transgressive, however, prefers to capo whose work is universally recognized, the undisputed guru of boom, but at the bottom and does nothing but take off the vest and repeat fleas in high-sounding ditty her recipe, which recognizes the claque and eagerly awaited the latest reincarnation of "female reader." Swedes also distinguishes his inveterate tendency to reward political correctness, descent and most visceral right opportunism, in other words, he emphasizes his predilection for those who know how to live without breaking a plate, those who join prestigious clubs enjoy the advantages of belonging to the International Pen.
Yesterday the Swedish Academy acted consistently with its parameters, their likes and phobias, to reward a Vargas Llosa in full intellectual decline, a writer whose last three novels are far from the brilliance achieved with The green house , City and dogs or Conversation in the Cathedral. The author to reward, in fact, no longer recognized, it is impossible to identify with these works whose common sign is the sharp denunciation of the vices of an atrocious through bold narrative, the structure of communicating vessels was perfect vehicle to question the reality of Latin America individualized characters such as Jaguar, the Poet, Lituma, Wildflower, Zavalita, Ambrose or Key Shit. And if we look at their essays, the reality is even more sad, because despite the insistence of Vargas Llosa to vindicate an alleged democratic affiliation, the fund is unable to hide his fascist vocation, it is impossible to hide when you read her unfortunate "reflections" praising the merciless bombing and the invasion of Iraq, or their stuttering sometimes cloying praise for Bush and Thatcher, who is revealed as a senile object of desire for this miraflorino with airs of a gentleman.
But the issue does not end here, because it is accompanied with a fickle trend, which had already been noticed in the personal history of boom , Jose Donoso, whose page 175 we read: "Mario Super Star", the public exposure and political action. I do not know if it is attracted to power itself. It seems more likely to be a sporting attitude, almost aesthetic dimensions ...". And the public exposure found its natural expression, but also his nemesis in 1990.
But before proceeding it is necessary to return to the year 1967, when Vargas Llosa published one of his most intimate friends: Puppies. Scholars agree saying that in this nouvelle realistic and symbolic elements coexist, immersed in a simple story, almost a collective bildungsroman whose argument runs "through adolescence and youth adjustment problems, fierce society punishes those who do not follow their rules or meet its requirements ...). The novel shows the lack of adaptation brought about by something insurmountable physical castration. This castration may symbolize the lack of machismo in the character (Pichula Cuéllar), a feature that characterizes this society portrayed. Cuellar, however, never rejects this machismo, but it tries to adapt to it, even knowing he can not. "
And its star, Pichula Cuellar has been enmasculado by a dog, Judas, in a scene of violence: "There, shrunken, white tiles, tiles and trickles of water, trembling, heard the barking of Judas, weeping de Cuellar, his cries, and heard screams, jumps, crashes, slips and then only barking and a lot of time after the booming voice of Sister Lucia, the swearing of Leontius, the heck, my God, you were, SAPES, long long, the desperation of the Brothers, their terrible shock. " And the narrator adds: "By that time, not long after the accident, Pichulita began to tell." Cuéllar misfortune to continue to culminate in a denouement announced: his death: "Then Pichula Cuéllar the business again. What a man, Lalo said," ran waves on Easter? And Chingolo: waves not olona five feet, brother, and major neck and "..." had gone to the mountain, Tingo Maria, to grow coffee. "" ... and had returned to Miraflores, crazier than ever, and had already killed, going north, how?, in a crash, where? in the treacherous curves Pasamayo, poor, we said at the funeral, how he suffered what life was, but this final is a fact that was asking for. "
Castration and death, nothing more, nothing less. And society, or Pichulita Friends, continue normally with their lives until his castration, misfortune and death are in the most dull forgetfulness. Many of the fears of Vargas Llosa, many of his inner demons, confessed source of his inspiration, nest on this story, a story revealing the extent which could explain his attitude to the events of 1990, which marked his departure ("castration? ) of political and visceral rejection to any form of recognition of popular sovereignty, an attitude of defiance to the rejection he had his candidacy for president, expressed by 62% of the mass electorate who turned in favor of a quasi- unknown Alberto Fujimori, who was defeated by a wide margin of 24 points (Vargas Llosa won 38%) in the second round held on June 10, 1990. That
June 10, 1990, Vargas Llosa suffered the same fate as the troubled protagonist of Puppies that day the people of Peru, the controlling authority in more than one occasion has been called a blob and ignorant, preferred an obscure Japanese immigrant rather than national literary glory, and that same day Vargas Llosa Pichulita metamorphosed into a gelding and spiteful, unable to comprehend such an affront.
Resentment built up over the years and became a burden heavy Vargas Llosa was determined to exorcise through Pyrrhic victories, as the English citizen in 1993; of celebrations droll, as in 2002, when he hastened to celebrate what it considered the departure of Chavez from power after the coup attempt and Carmona Venezuelan right, or elevated to excited primate, and in August 2009, when he declared in favor of the coup in Honduras, told the media at the service of the oligarchy igonorante catracha crude and have repeated to disgust this 7 October on the occasion of the Nobel.
But there is unmistakably a tinge of sadness in each of their shares, which become pale carbon copy of the deeds Pichula that Cuellar was trying to hide their miserable condition eunuch, waves and surf that runs on your car to reckless speeds, while its creator struggles to accumulate awards and honors. But deep down both are aware of their basic flaws: one Judas ate his genitals, while the other, the Peruvian people will face rubbed in their ancestral contempt forever truncating his closest public exposure. From now on, Vargas Llosa Pichula wander through the world with a bag full of dollars, a full belly, a guilty conscience and the Nobel under his arm, with the secret hope that one day finally stop listening to the threatening bark Judas, who chase him from that sad night of June 10, 1990.
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