Ramón Díaz Sánchez, author of Cumboto
I have in my hands a book I bought and read in January 1965. The date is written under my name on the front page. I, therefore, part of a small lot I bought in a tiny bookstore located at the end of the race 19 of Barquisimeto, near the university. Thanks to the moderate prices of the collection of Venezuelan Book Festival, Johnny Hidalgo and I did then several important works of national literature and some from other Lares, because not only Venezuela edited that way. There was a continental network which included us, along with Colombia, Peru, Ecuador, Cuba, Mexico and Brazil, in a noble and vigorous literary dissemination activity. Campaigns to promote reading, and now realize that some would-pioneers, a history major. Which now comes to mind when I travel around the pages of this old book, green cover, is precisely one of the most comprehensive and exemplary. Occurred in the sixties of last century, during the heyday of famous fights and the beginning of a historical period that we study without many veils and prejudices. It never hurts to remember those precedents undeniable, especially Now when alcamuneros originals on display as "democratization" of culture ... But that's not what drives these lines. Another day we will approach from the front. For now, go to the very pleasing point that today brings.
Rereading the first pages of the book, I feel this has changed. Now it's beautiful and vibrant. I became old and the novel by Ramón Díaz Sánchez girl turned fifteen. I know Cumboto is one of our classics, but this time there is a fee but an emotion. It's my reunion at sunset with the poetry of his first chapter. The narrator and the character impeccably dressed in white, followed by the first, I have moved to the coast. I can not abandon them. Come in with them at night. Now there are two shadows that move. We are three. Breathe the salt air and do not ignore the hollow of the coconut. I try to rebuild my first reading. Impossible. Images come to my house, but I only see the enigmatic Don Federico profile and not the boy who then read. Let alone their reactions. No underlining or annotation made some in the first part of the novel. So there are no signs to guide me. Desisto. I follow the breakneck speed of memory and came to the White House with the same feeling I had the narrator has been removed We stayed in a silt. From this time there will be no human or divine force to stop my reading ...
Cumboto was translated, among other languages, Italian. Supe Eugenio Montale once that the public had read with enthusiasm. It would be worth checking what you said. I'm sure not limited to the schematic view that criticism Venezuela (Venezuelan some criticism) had this splendid book. God forgive me, but I think that we have not been fair to Díaz Sánchez and Cumboto , a book that goes far beyond the racial conflict, repeated ad nauseam as their listless reviewers. Is a novel about childhood and its various landscapes. But much more than that. It is a poetic approach to nature and history of art without frills. Finally, it is a living book that is richer, as any living, breathing work that is released from temporary moorings.
I return to reading. Natividad and led me to the lab (kitchen, they say) from Grandma Anita. There I hope their stories and, above all, his Calá (okra), their soups his and okra fritters . Grandma Anita account and kitchen fantasies. Just try the frothy cream of beans. Díaz Sánchez, on its part and has unwittingly entered at that moment, and with honors, his worthy name in the history of Caribbean cuisine.
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