Monday, October 11, 2010

Wish For My Friend Engagment

The Dream of the Nobel Prize for Literature 2010

is human, and I was waiting all his life, when it happened had its

FOURTEEN MINUTES OF REFLECTION
that day, as every day since three weeks ago , arrived in New York, I got up at five in the morning and trying not to wake up to Patricia, I went into the living room to read. It was night still closed and the lights of the skyscrapers of the boundary had the disturbing appearance of a giant flock of fireflies invading the city. Within an hour or so would begin to dawn, and if the sky was cloudless, the first lights would illuminate the Hudson River and the corner of Central Park with its trees that autumn begins to brown, a beautiful spectacle that give me every morning the windows of the apartment (we live in the apartment forty-six).
day was planned with precision. Work a couple of hours preparing for class on Monday in Princeton, which illustrate the theme of point of view with examples from The Kingdom of This World by Alejo Carpentier, half an hour of back exercises, one hour walk in Central Park, newspapers, breakfast, shower, and the New York Public Library, where write my Stone Touch to the country about suicide, throwing the George Washington Bridge at Rutgers University, Tylor Clementi, young violinist and two fellow student who had denounced as homophobic gay, broadcasting on the Internet a video that appeared kissing with a man.


I was immediately absorbed by the magic of the kingdom of this world and the mythical transfiguration Carpentier's prose makes the first attempts for independence in Haiti. The omniscient narrator of the story is a clever no scholarly, bookish, baroque and elaborate narrates from very close to the sensitivity of the slave Ti Noel, who believes in the Great Loas voodoo sorcerers and worship, as Mackandal, enjoy the gift of lycanthropy, ie they can transform themselves into animals at will. It was at least twenty years since I reread and power of persuasion was still irresistible.

suddenly noticed the presence of Patricia in the parlor. Approached with the phone in hand and a face that scared me. "A tragedy in the family, I thought. I picked up the device and heard, including whistles, echoes and belching power, a voice speaking in English. At the moment I managed to make out the words Swedish Academy the line went dead. We were silent, staring, saying nothing, until the phone rang again. Now I could hear well. The gentleman said I was the secretary of the Swedish Academy, which I had been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature and the news became public within fourteen minutes. I could hear on television, radio and the Internet.

"We must warn Alvaro, Gonzalo and Patricia Morgan said.

"Better wait make it official, "I replied.

And I remembered that many years ago in Rome, we were told the joke he played with friends (or rather enemies) to Alberto Moravia, posing as officials of the Swedish Academy and congratulating the award. He alerted the press and the news was a mess of bad taste.

"If true, this house is going to become a loquerío," Patricia said. Best Take a shower at once.

But instead of doing it, I stayed in the living room, watching the skyscrapers looming between the first light of morning in New York. I in the house at Ladislao Cabrera, in Cochabamba, where I spent my childhood in the book of Neruda Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, that my mother had forbidden me to read and had hidden in her nightstand (the first book forbidden to read). I thought about how much he had cheered the news, if it was true. I thought the big nose and bald head gleaming grandfather Pedro, who wrote verses holidays and explained to the family, when I refused to eat "food for the poet's prose." I thought Uncle Lucho, that in that happy year I spent at her home in Piura, the last of the college, writing articles, poems little story and sometimes published in The Industry tirelessly encouraged me to persevere and be a writer, because, in fact talking about himself, he assured me that failure to follow their vocation is treason and sentenced to unhappiness. I thought at the premiere that year, the Variety Theatre of Piura, my little book The Flight of the Inca, that my friend Javier Silva advertised loudly through the streets with a big horn, from the roof of a truck, and in the beautiful Ruth Rojas, the Vestal of the work, which I was secretly in love.

"It's foolish to think that this may be a joke," Patricia said. Let's call Alvaro, Gonzalo and Morgana at once.

Alvaro
call to Washington, Gonzalo to Santo Domingo and Lima Morgana, and still missing seven or eight minutes to the scheduled time. I thought about Lucho Loayza and Abelardo Oquendo, teenage friends and the journal literature, from which we draw just three numbers, our manifesto against the death penalty, the homage to César Moro, and sometimes fierce discussions Borges was on him was more important than Sartre or it than that. I held the latter and they were first and they, of course, who is right. That's when I got the nickname (which I loved): "The sartrecillo brave."

I thought the contest of the Revue Francaise I won in 1957, with my story "The challenge, which provided me with a trip to Paris, where I spent a month in total happiness, living in the Hotel Napoleon, in the four words that changed with Albert Camus and Maria Casares in doors a theater of the Grands Boulevards, and my desperate and fruitless efforts to be received by Sartre even just a minute to see your face and shake his hand. I remembered my first year in Madrid and doubts I had before deciding to send the fairy chiefs Leopoldo Alas Award, created by a group of doctors from Barcelona, \u200b\u200bheaded by Dr. Rock and advised by the poet Enrique Badosa, thanks to which I had the great joy of seeing My first book printed.

I thought that if the news was true, had to publicly thank Spain how much he had, then, without the extraordinary support of people like Carlos Barral, Carmen Balcells and many others, editors, critics, readers, never have reached my books that have been spreading.


And I thought how incredibly lucky I've been in the life to follow the advice of Uncle fought and decided, in my twenty years in that boarding Madrid's Street Doctor Castelo, at some point August 1958 would be a lawyer but not a writer, and, since then, but had to live with three doubles and a ring, organize my life so that most of my time and energy will focus on the literature, and only seek jobs that let me spare time to write . It was a decision somewhat fanciful, but it helped me a lot, at least psychologically, and I think, in broad terms, the I turned in my years in Paris, for work at the Berlitz School, Agence France Presse and French TV Radio I always left a few short hours a day to read and write.

And I thought of the strange paradox of having received so many recognition, as it
(if the news was not a joke),
to devote my life to a task that has made me enjoy infinitely, in which each book has been an adventure full of surprises, discoveries , illusions and exhilaration that always far outweighed the difficulties, headaches, depression and constipation. And I thought how wonderful life is that men and women invented when we were still in loincloths and eating us to each other, to break boundaries as close to real life, and move to another, richer, more intense, freer, through fiction.

At six o'clock in the morning radio, television and the Internet confirmed that the news was true. As predicted by Patricia, the house became a loquerío and since then I stopped thinking and, very nearly, to breathe.

New York, October 2010
Blog Copyright Note:

And while you quickly saw Mario's dream come true while your life remembered the steps you had to take to get there ... us in Arequipa and Peru think big you are.

Thanks for many wonderful works that accompanied my high school times in the E. Meiggs in Ilo, and for that bravery wasted on feedback, content and public debates. Thanks for always being honest by showing that what counts in life is to bet everything, because everything that momentum is only a premonition of being great in your art to be able to live your dreams and inspire others to do likewise .. .
Thanks for literature as we knew it changed in an instant that Thursday at 6 am ... And throughout Peru today we celebrate the pride of sharing you this wonderful country called Peru, where he met his visiting Pantaleon favorite, where hungry dogs bark (justice, equity and opportunities), where women are still wasting beauty and coquetry and where your aunt and your family are proud of you.

I join these congratulations:

Thanks Mario Vargas Lloza

Congratulations!

Posted by admin at 11:44 AM

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