{"id":90,"date":"2010-06-12T18:49:02","date_gmt":"2010-06-12T17:49:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/amirvalle.com\/wordpress\/?p=90"},"modified":"2013-02-18T19:03:30","modified_gmt":"2013-02-18T19:03:30","slug":"un-tal-por-cual-llamado-guillermo-vidal","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/amirvalle.com\/a-titulo-personal\/publicados-anteriormente-en-amirvalle-com\/un-tal-por-cual-llamado-guillermo-vidal\/","title":{"rendered":"Un tal por cual llamado Guillermo Vidal"},"content":{"rendered":"
Art\u00edculo en espa\u00f1ol e ingl\u00e9s (a continuaci\u00f3n del original en espa\u00f1ol), gracias a la traducci\u00f3n de la escritora y periodista Regina M. Anavy.<\/h5>\n

 <\/p>\n

Empezar la primera entrega de una columna personal de un escritor hablando de otro escritor, es decir, de un supuesto rival (si seguimos esa absurda tendencia de entender la literatura como un \u00abqu\u00edtate t\u00fa, pa’ponerme yo\u00bb), es algo que, quienes as\u00ed conciban el acto de escribir, pueden entender como un suicidio.<\/p>\n

Pero sucede que Guillermo Vidal fue una de esas personas que pasan por el mundo sin creer que ha dejado enemigos, aunque los haya, pues no hay ser humano tocado por la genialidad que no haga sombra como para que siempre algunas almas mediocres se sientan agredidas. As\u00ed de miserable y de sucia es la condici\u00f3n humana.<\/p>\n

Guillermo Vidal, en mi opini\u00f3n y en la de muchos otros, uno de los m\u00e1s grandes novelistas que han existido en las letras cubanas de todos los tiempos, fue adem\u00e1s un ser inolvidable, de esos para los cuales la muerte deb\u00eda estar vedada, prohibida. Humilde, honesto, sencillo, hermano mayor y padre de sus amigos, fiel a ellos sin mirar las consecuencias, confesor de much\u00edsimos que lo conocieron, desapegado totalmente de su gloria y de cualquier bien material que pudiera poseer, en fin de cuentas: sabio, consideraba que su mayor riqueza era haber conocido a Cristo y por ello, al sentido m\u00e1ximo del verdadero amor, que se encarg\u00f3 de regar como una semilla fertil\u00edsima entre su familia, sus amigos, e incluso entre esos seres sin nombre que d\u00eda a d\u00eda encontraba en su camino corto por la vida. La magnitud de su entierro en el pueblo de Las Tunas, su querid\u00edsima ciudad que jam\u00e1s quiso abandonar como otros escritores que saltan a La Habana buscando mejores posibilidades, gravitar\u00e1 sobre la memoria colectiva durante muchos a\u00f1os: las calles estaban llenas de tuneros, el dolor se desprend\u00eda de todos los rostros que vieron pasar el cortejo f\u00fanebre camino al cementerio, y las l\u00e1grimas no estaban solo en los ojos de los familiares y sus amigos y conocidos. \u00abLas Tunas estar\u00e1 llorando a este hombre por muchos a\u00f1os\u00bb, dijo un hermano en Cristo a la salida de la necr\u00f3polis.<\/p>\n

Muri\u00f3 a los 52 a\u00f1os, en el momento en que todos los cr\u00edticos anunciaban el estallido de su plenitud literaria. Dej\u00f3 seis novelas in\u00e9ditas, listas para publicar, varios cuentos, y un par de novelas inconclusas.<\/p>\n

Pero ah\u00ed est\u00e1 su obra publicada, vast\u00edsima, renovadora, aportativa a todos los territorios de la literatura cubana escrita en los \u00faltimos treinta a\u00f1os, desde aquel ya lejano d\u00eda en que le ense\u00f1\u00f3 a su amigo y colega de letras, el poeta y narrador Ramiro Duarte, lo que Guillermo llam\u00f3 entonces \u00abun cuentecillo\u00bb y que ser\u00eda uno de las obras suyas que iban a convertirse en un cl\u00e1sico: \u00abEl pozo\u00bb.<\/p>\n

Baste echar un vistazo a esos libros:<\/p>\n

Los iniciados<\/strong> (cuentos, 1985). Premio Nacional 3 de Marzo.<\/p>\n

Se permuta esta casa<\/strong> (cuentos, 1986). Premio David de la Uni\u00f3n de Escritores y Artistas de Cuba, 1986. Reeditado en el a\u00f1o 2000.<\/p>\n

Confabulaci\u00f3n de la ara\u00f1a <\/strong>(cuentos, 1990). Premio de la Uni\u00f3n de Escritores y Artistas de Cuba en 1990.<\/p>\n

Matarile<\/strong> (novela, 1993).<\/p>\n

Los enemigos<\/strong> (cuentos, 1994).<\/p>\n

El quinto sol<\/strong> (novela, 1995). Premio Nacional Hermanos Loynaz en 1995<\/p>\n

Las manzanas del para\u00edso<\/strong> (novela, dos ediciones: Rep\u00fablica Dominicana, 1998 y Puerto Rico, 2002). Premio Internacional de Novela Casa de Teatro de Rep\u00fablica Dominicana en 1998.<\/p>\n

Donde nadie nos vea<\/strong> (cuentos, 1999).<\/p>\n

Ella es tan sucia como sus ojos<\/strong> ( novela, 2001).<\/p>\n

El amo de las tumbas<\/strong> (novela, dos ediciones: Espa\u00f1a, 2001 y Cuba, 2003).<\/p>\n

Los cuervos<\/strong> (novela, tres ediciones: Cuba, 2002; Espa\u00f1a, 2004; Cuba, 2004). Premio Nacional Dulce Mar\u00eda Loynaz en el 2001.<\/p>\n

La saga del perseguido<\/strong> (novela, 2003). Premio Nacional de Novela Alejo Carpentier, 2003.<\/p>\n

P\u00f3stumamente se publicar\u00e1 en el primer trimestre del 2005, Las alcobas profundas<\/strong> (cuentos), Premio Nacional Rafael Soler de cuento en 2004, y El mendigo bajo el cipr\u00e9s<\/strong> (novela).<\/p>\n

Conoc\u00ed la humildad de Guillermo en 1984, y fue uno de mis maestros, el novelista cubano Jos\u00e9 Soler Puig, quien present\u00f3 la edici\u00f3n en plaquette de un cuento que luego, tambi\u00e9n, adquiri\u00f3 la condici\u00f3n de cl\u00e1sico: \u00abSe permuta esta casa\u00bb, con el cual Guillermo hab\u00eda ganado el premio Marcos Antilla, muy importante por esa d\u00e9cada. Recuerdo el terror y la admiraci\u00f3n con la que mis colegas y hermanos Alberto Garrido (hoy una voz esencial de la narrativa cubana) y Marcos Gonz\u00e1lez, fuimos a que nos autografiara aquella obra. Recuerdo sus ojos, grandes, limpios, que desprend\u00edan una humildad nada fingida, a pesar de que el maestro Soler (muy conocido por no dar nunca elogios en vano) dijera en sus palabras que \u00abno les presento a una promesa, les presento a un escritor y apuesto a que mucho dar\u00e1 que hablar la obra de Guillermo Vidal en breve tiempo\u00bb.<\/p>\n

Coincidimos despu\u00e9s, como siempre, compitiendo en eventos donde nuestros cuentos quedaron de finalistas. Yo le gan\u00e9 en el Encuentro Nacional de Talleres Literarios de 1986 (que se efectuaban en esos a\u00f1os con los ganadores por g\u00e9neros de todas las provincias del pa\u00eds). Mi cuento se llamaba: \u00abYo soy el malo\u00bb, y el suyo \u00abDen paso a la cieguita\u00bb, otro de sus cl\u00e1sicos. Recuerdo su abrazo en la premiaci\u00f3n, sincero, natural, cordial\u00edsimo, como si hiciera siglos que me conociera. Ese mismo a\u00f1o lleg\u00f3 el desquite. Su libro \u00abSe permuta esta casa\u00bb y el m\u00edo \u00abYo soy el malo\u00bb compet\u00edan en el importante Premio David de la Uni\u00f3n de Escritores, por entonces el m\u00e1s codiciado galard\u00f3n para autores j\u00f3venes en el pa\u00eds. Gan\u00f3 Guillermo con uno de los libros que hoy se consideran cl\u00e1sicos del g\u00e9nero en Cuba. Cuando supe la noticia, le escrib\u00ed un telegrama que todav\u00eda existe: \u00abGuille, me jodiste, pero siento ese premio tuyo como si fuera m\u00edo. un abrazo\u00bb. Desde entonces nos llam\u00e1bamos para felicitarnos por cada uno de nuestros premios. Solangel U\u00f1a, su esposa, lo ha dicho varias veces: \u00abaunque perdiera, se alegraba de un modo incre\u00edble si el que ganaba era un amigo, pasaba d\u00edas euf\u00f3rico, dici\u00e9ndole a todos: ese cabr\u00f3n me gan\u00f3, yo siempre dije que iba a ser bueno\u00bb.<\/p>\n

Me llamaba por tel\u00e9fono para decirme: \u00abescritorucho, escucha este cuentazo para que aprendas a escribir\u00bb, y yo escuchaba el cuento. Se lo hac\u00eda pedazos y \u00e9l lo arreglaba en base a mis criterios. Yo lo llamaba por tel\u00e9fono: \u00abaprendiz de escritor, escuche este fragmento de novela para que se deje de creer que es usted un novelista\u00bb, y \u00e9l escuchaba mi fragmento. Me lo hac\u00eda pedazos y yo lo arreglaba en base a sus criterios.<\/p>\n

Forjamos as\u00ed, encuentro por encuentro, visita por visita, llamada por llamada, viaje por viaje, discusi\u00f3n por discusi\u00f3n, email por email, una amistad demasiado fuerte como para que su muerte no me haya marcado para toda la vida. Mi familia era la suya y los suyos son hoy mi familia. Y todav\u00eda creo sentir sus consejos, sus llamadas de preocupaci\u00f3n para que yo no cayera en las provocaciones de quienes nunca vieron bien que dij\u00e9ramos lo que pens\u00e1bamos, que escribi\u00e9ramos lo que nos diera la gana sin creer en censuras ni en ediciones oportunistas de nuestros pensamientos en busca de prebendas, como algunos todav\u00eda lo hacen. Recuerdo sus palabras de confianza en que las cosas iban a cambiar, ten\u00edan que cambiar, \u00abporque estamos llegando al fondo, Amir, y cuando se llega al fondo hay una sola salida: subir\u00bb. Y esas palabras fueron respaldadas por su accionar en la vida, mediante la \u00e9tica del respeto al pensamiento ajeno \u00abalgo que nos falta mucho en este pa\u00eds\u00bb, dec\u00eda.<\/p>\n

Alg\u00fan ser retorcido, mediocre dirigente cultural y bestia que no ve m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de las orejeras pol\u00edticas que le ordenaron ponerse, quiso dudar cierta vez de la honestidad de un hecho simple: Guillermo se preciaba de ser amigo del Ministro de Cultura de Cuba, Abel Prieto, tambi\u00e9n cuentista de primera, y de ser amigo de Patricia Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo, Presidenta de la editorial Plaza Mayor, de Puerto Rico, en cuya Colecci\u00f3n Cultura Cubana se publicara Las Manzanas del Para\u00edso <\/em>.<\/p>\n

El retorcido y ciego dirigente cultural encontr\u00f3 solamente la diferencia: Abel Prieto era un miembro del gobierno cubano y Patricia Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo era la hija del excomandante guerrillero Eloy Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo, fundador del grupo Cambio Cubano <\/em>que promueve una transici\u00f3n pac\u00edfica y democr\u00e1tica en la isla.<\/p>\n

Guillermo Vidal encontr\u00f3 algo m\u00e1s humano y m\u00e1s puro: \u00abAbel y Patricia son gente de la cultura, es decir, son de los m\u00edos, aunque otras cosas menores puedan separarlos. Pero son seres humanos de buen coraz\u00f3n, al menos en lo que a m\u00ed respecta, y eso es lo que me importa. Por eso seguir\u00e1n siendo mis amigos, a\u00fan cuando con ellos yo mismo tenga mis diferencias\u00bb.<\/p>\n

As\u00ed fue: un hombre que prefer\u00eda unir mediante la comprensi\u00f3n, el di\u00e1logo y el respeto al credo ajeno.<\/p>\n

En sus d\u00edas finales lo atendimos en mi casa de Centro Habana, adonde iba cuando le daban pase en el Hospital Calixto Garc\u00eda, donde un equipo m\u00e9dico encabezado por el doctor L\u00e1zaro Mart\u00ednez intentaba descifrar las causas de sus crisis de asfixia. All\u00ed planificamos muchas cosas. Sent\u00eda deseos de escribir y se sab\u00eda due\u00f1o ya de sus mundos novelados. No quer\u00eda creer que Matarile<\/strong>, Las manzanas del para\u00edso<\/strong> , Los cuervos<\/strong> y La saga del perseguido<\/strong> eran obras mayores de la novel\u00edstica cubana del siglo XX, como le dec\u00edamos muchos escritores. \u00abCuando los cr\u00edticos no han hablado de esa novela es por algo\u00bb, nos dec\u00eda, dudando realmente. Pues era incluso incapaz de darse cuenta de que en Cuba la mayor\u00eda de los cr\u00edticos de narrativa (tambi\u00e9n novelistas, por cierto) llevaban a\u00f1os intentando conseguir la genialidad que \u00e9l consigui\u00f3 sin tanto esfuerzo y por ello no les era conveniente aceptar la realidad de su grandeza. Solamente el narrador y ensayista Alberto Garrand\u00e9s se atrevi\u00f3 a escribirlo y publicarlo: \u00bb Vidal se convierte, creo, en el mejor novelista vivo entre nosotros, si es que esa distinci\u00f3n -acaso una mera frase- tiene alg\u00fan sentido dentro de su probable escepticismo ante las glorias humanas\u00bb <\/em>. Y esa simple frase despert\u00f3 no pocos comentarios venenosos en el mundillo cultural de las supuestas grandes glorias de la literatura cubana.<\/p>\n

Cuando me enter\u00e9 de su muerte, d\u00edas despu\u00e9s de que lo mand\u00e1ramos de regreso a Las Tunas, a terminar su recuperaci\u00f3n bajo tratamiento m\u00e9dico, escrib\u00ed un mensaje breve donde comunicaba a los amigos su p\u00e9rdida, y lo coloqu\u00e9 en internet. En apenas un par de horas, recib\u00ed m\u00e1s de cien mensajes desde todas partes del mundo y nuevamente tuve que estremecerme ante una verdad que ambos hemos defendido: la hermandad del humanismo por encima de credos y diferencias de cualquier \u00edndole. Todos los cubanos, vivieran donde vivieran en este mundo, que lo conocieron o escucharon hablar de Guillermo Vidal, respondieron con hermosos mensajes sobre el significado de tal muerte para las letras cubanas. Y en ese instante, otra vez, la dignidad de un hombre como \u00e9l, asestaba un golpe demoledor a la intolerancia y la falta de di\u00e1logo que ha dividido y divide a\u00fan a los cubanos en relaci\u00f3n con la b\u00fasqueda de un camino para el pa\u00eds: se romp\u00edan las diferencias y todos nos unimos en el dolor como lo que realmente somos, hermanos. Creo que fue ese el mejor homenaje que le hemos hecho a Guillermo desde entonces.<\/p>\n

Tal vez supo que iba a morir. Por eso me declar\u00f3 su albacea literario. Por eso dej\u00f3 a todos los que lo conocimos su m\u00e1s hermoso y triste testamento: \u00abs\u00e9 que si me toca irme, me ir\u00e9 con Cristo\u00bb, el m\u00e1s hermoso testamento; \u00abme duele irme sin haber podido dejarle a mi hijo y a ti un lugar digno donde vivir\u00bb, le dijo a su esposa Solangel, el m\u00e1s triste testamento. Que un hombre que haya aportado tanto al pensamiento y las letras cubanas se haya enfermado y muerto (entre otras causas) por las malas condiciones de vida de su vivienda, y que todav\u00eda su hijo de cinco a\u00f1os y su esposa sigan viviendo en esa oscura pocilga de un barrio marginal en Las Tunas, es algo de lo cual muchos tienen que avergonzarse, pues todo el poder que dicen tener (y que han usado muchas veces para fomentar la intolerancia que Guillermo critic\u00f3 en vida) no ha bastado para resolver una cosa tan simple.<\/p>\n

Un gran escritor seguir\u00e1 siendo pese a todo eso. Ah\u00ed queda su obra. Queda su recuerdo. Queda su ejemplo de ser humano y de hijo de Dios. Y hasta en eso estoy unido a Guillermo: fue \u00e9l quien un d\u00eda me ense\u00f1\u00f3 el rostro hermoso de Cristo que cambi\u00f3 mi vida para siempre.<\/p>\n

Un par de d\u00edas antes de morir, en una de sus crisis, Guillermo comenz\u00f3 a gritar, desesperado: \u00absi alguien piensa que en este momento voy a renegar de Cristo, est\u00e1 muy jodido; yo me voy con Cristo\u00bb. Varios d\u00edas de su muerte, mi hijo de tres a\u00f1os, que desde beb\u00e9 sinti\u00f3 una predilecci\u00f3n por el t\u00edo a quien llamaba: Yiyi, se par\u00f3 delante del afiche que me dio la familia como recuerdo y que tengo en mi librero junto a todos sus libros autografiados. Estuvo mir\u00e1ndolo unos segundos y luego dijo: \u00abmi pap\u00e1. Yiyi est\u00e1 en el cielo con Jesucristo y va a venir volando a verme\u00bb. No le hab\u00edamos dicho ni siquiera que su t\u00edo Guillermo hab\u00eda muerto. \u00bfC\u00f3mo lo supo? Solo Dios sabe. Pero desde ese momento, porque sabemos que Dios habla a trav\u00e9s de los ni\u00f1os, confirmamos que el Guille estaba en el lugar que \u00e9l tanto hab\u00eda anhelado: a la diestra de Dios.<\/p>\n

Puede parecer un final para una novela, pero es la vida. Guillermo, donde quiera que est\u00e9, asentir\u00e1 sonriendo. Preferimos recordarlo as\u00ed, p\u00edcaro, risue\u00f1o, siempre con un chiste a mano para hacer re\u00edr a sus amigos, burl\u00f3n sin maldad, cr\u00edtico sin agresividad, jodedor en el m\u00e1s cubano de los sentidos.<\/p>\n

Como en aquella foto que nos tiramos todos los cubanos que asistimos a la Feria Internacional del Libro de Guadalajara, invitados por la editorial Plaza Mayor. En la foto, que aqu\u00ed coloco, aparecen, escritores cubanos muy reconocidos, que viven en la isla o en otros pa\u00edses. De izquierda a derecha, en la primera fila y sentados: el poeta Sifredo Ariel, la editora Patricia Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo y el poeta Emilio Garc\u00eda Montiel; en la segunda fila: yo, la poeta y narradora Odette Alonso, la investigadora Rita Molinero y el narrador Miguel Mejides; y en la \u00faltima fila, de pie: el poeta Agust\u00edn Labrada, el narrador Andr\u00e9s Jorge, y Guillermo Vidal.<\/p>\n

Cuando ense\u00f1amos a todos la foto en la c\u00e1mara digital, Guillermo dijo, serio pero con esos ojillos verdes donde la jocosidad casi brincaba de gozo: \u00abson unos tal por cual que se dicen escritores\u00bb.<\/p>\n

Prefiero terminar, entonces, con la foto, y con el pie de foto que \u00e9l propuso ese d\u00eda:<\/p>\n

\"Escritores<\/a>

Con otros escritores cubanos en Guadalajara M\u00e9xico<\/p><\/div>\n

El famos\u00edsimo escritor universal Guillermo Vidal y unos desconocidos.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

One for the aforementioned Guillermo Vidal<\/h2>\n

Tanslated by Regina M. Anavy<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

To begin the first installment of a writer\u2019s personal column by talking about another writer \u2013 a supposed rival (if we continue that absurd tendency to think about literature as a case of \u201cI weaken you so I can grow\u201d) \u2013 is something that any writer might consider suicide.<\/p>\n

But it so happens that Guillermo Vidal was one of those who pass through life without believing they have enemies, although he did have them. You don\u2019t have to be a genius to suggest that some mediocre souls always feel attacked. Thus the human condition is contemptible and unclean.<\/p>\n

Guillermo Vidal, in my opinion and in that of many others, was one of the greatest novelists who ever existed in Cuban literature, and he was, moreover, an unforgettable human being, one of those for whom death should be set aside, prohibited. Self-effacing, honest, straight-forward, older brother and father to his friends, loyal without regard to consequences, confessor for many who knew him, indifferent to his glory and any material wealth he might possess, to sum up: wise, he considered that his greatest wealth was having known Christ and, through Him, the greatest feeling of true love, which he took care of irrigating like a fertile seed among his family, friends and even those nameless beings he met daily in his short road through life. The magnitude of his burial in the little town of Las Tunas, his beloved city that he never wanted to abandon, unlike other writers who hopped to Havana in search of better possibilities, will affect the collective memory for many years: the streets of Las Tunas were full of people; grief showed on all the faces of those who saw the funeral procession pass on the way to the cemetery, and the tears were not just in the eyes of family members, friends and others who knew him. \u201cLas Tunas will be crying over this man for many years,\u201d said a brother in Christ upon leaving the cemetery.<\/p>\n

He was 52 when he died, in the moment that all the critics announced the explosion of his literary abundance. He left six unpublished novels, lists of things to publish, several short stories and a couple of unfinished novels.<\/p>\n

But there is his published work, enormous, innovative, contributing to the whole terrain of Cuban literature written in the last 30 years, starting from that now-distant day when he showed his friend and cultural colleague, the poet and story-teller Ramiro Duarte, what Guillermo then called \u201ca little story,\u201d which would become a classic: \u201cThe Well.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s enough to take a look at those books:<\/p>\n

Los iniciados [The Initiated] (stories, 1985) March 3 National Award<\/p>\n

Se permuta esta casa [This House is for Trade] (stories, 1986). David Award from the Cuban Writers and Artists Union, 1986. Republished in 2000.<\/p>\n

Confabulaci\u00f3n de la ara\u00f1a [The Spider\u2019s Web] (stories, 1990). Award from the Cuban Writers and Artists Union, 1990.<\/p>\n

Matarile [Song in Round] (novel, 1993).<\/p>\n

Los enemigos [Enemies] (stories, 1994).<\/p>\n

El quinto sol [The Fifth Sun] (novel, 1995). Loynaz Brothers National Award, 1995.<\/p>\n

Las manzanas del para\u00edso [The Apples of Paradise] (novel, two editions: Dominican Republic, 1998, and Puerto Rico, 2002). International Dramatic Novel Award of the Dominican Republic in 1998.<\/p>\n

Donde nadie nos vea [Where No One Sees Us] (stories, 1999).<\/p>\n

Ella es tan sucia como sus ojos [She is as Dirty as Her Eyes] (novel, 2001).<\/p>\n

El amo de las tumbas [The Lord of Tombs] (novel, two editions: Spain, 2001, and Cuba, 2003).<\/p>\n

Los Cuervos [The Crows] (novel, three editions: Cuba, 2002, Spain, 2004; Cuba, 2004). Dulce Mar\u00eda Loynaz National Award, 2001.<\/p>\n

La saga del perseguido [The Saga of the Persecuted] (novel, 2003). Alejo Carpentier National Novel Award, 2003.<\/p>\n

Posthumously, in the first trimester of 2005, Las alcobas profundas [The Fathomless Bedrooms] (stories), Rafael Soler National Short Story Award, 2004, and El mendigo bajo el cipr\u00e9s [The Beggar Under the Cypress] (novel).<\/p>\n

I knew Guillermo\u2019s humility in 1984, and it was one of my teachers, the Cuban novelist Jos\u00e9 Soler Puig, who presented the edition in layout of a short story that later also became a classic: Se permuta esta casa [This House is for Trade], with which Guillermo had won the Marcos Antilla Award, very important for that decade. I remember the terror and the admiration with which my colleagues and brothers Alberto Garrido (today an essential voice in Cuban narrative), Marcos Gonz\u00e1lez and I went to get that work autographed. I remember his eyes, large, clear, showing a true humility, in spite of what the teacher Soler (very well-known for not giving vain praise) said: \u201cI am not presenting a promise to you; I am presenting a writer, and I bet that the work of Guillermo Vidal will soon be widely mentioned.\u201d<\/p>\n

We communicated later, as always, competing in events where our short stories remained finalists. I won the National Meeting of Literary Workshops in 1986 (which took place in those years with the winners by genre from all the provinces of the country). My story was called Yo soy el malo [I am Evil], and his, Den paso a la cieguita [Let the Blind Woman Pass], another of his classics. I remember his embrace in the award ceremony, sincere, natural, very cordial, as if he had known me for centuries. That same year the retaliation happened. His book, Se permute esta casa [This House is for Trade], and mine, Yo soy el malo [I am Evil], competed for the important Writers Union David Award, then the most coveted award for young authors in the country. Guillermo won with one of the books that today is considered a kind of classic in Cuba. When I heard the news, I wrote him a telegram that still exists: \u201cGuille, you fucked me, but I feel as if your award were mine. A hug.\u201d Since then we called each other to give congratulations for every one of our awards. Solangel U\u00f1a, his wife, said many times: \u201cAlthough he lost, he was glad in an unbelievable way if the winner was a friend. He would spend days overjoyed, telling everyone, \u201cThat bastard beat me. I always said he was going to be good.\u201d<\/p>\n

He called me by telephone to tell me: \u201cLittle writer, listen to this little story so you will learn to write,\u201d and I would listen to his story. I would tear it to pieces, and he would rewrite it based on my opinions. I would call him by telephone: \u201cWriter\u2019s apprentice, list to this fragment of a novel so you will stop believing you are a novelist,\u201d and he would listen to my fragment. He would tear it to pieces, and I would rewrite it based on his opinions.<\/p>\n

We forged ahead like that, encounter by encounter, visit by visit, telephone call by telephone call, trip by trip, discussion by discussion, email by email, a friendship too strong for his death to not have marked me for life. My family was his family, and his is mine today. And I still think I hear his advice, his telephone calls of concern for me so I won\u2019t fall into the provocations of those who never looked well upon the fact that we said what we thought and we wrote what we wanted, without believing in censorship or opportunistic publication of our thoughts in search of sinecures, like some still do. I remember his trusting words of faith that things were going to change, \u201cbecause we are reaching the bottom, Amir, and when you reach the bottom there is only one way out: up.\u201d And those words were backed by his actions in life, in his ethic of respect for different ways of thinking: \u201csomething that we need a lot in this country,\u201d he would say.<\/p>\n

Some twisted person, a mediocre and idiotic culture director, who did not see beyond the political blinders he was ordered to wear, once doubted the honesty of a simple fact: Guillermo boasted about being a friend of the Cuban Minister of Culture, Abel Prieto, also a first-class storyteller, and of being friends with Patricia Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo, the President of the Plaza Mayor publisher of Puerto Rico, in whose Cuban Culture Collection Las Manzanas del Para\u00edso [The Apples of Paradise] would be published.<\/p>\n

The bent and blind cultural director found only the contradiction: Abel Prieto was a member of the Cuban government, and Patricia Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo was the daughter of the ex-Commander guerrilla, Eloy Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo, the founder of the group Cambio Cubano [Cuban Change], which promotes a peaceful and democratic transition on the island.<\/p>\n

Guillermo Vidal found something more human and more pure: \u201cAbel and Patricia are people of culture; that is to say, they are part of me, although other minor things can separate them. But they are human beings of good heart, at least with respect to me, and that\u2019s all that is important. So they will continue to be my friends, even when I have my own differences with them.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so it was: a man who preferred to connect through comprehension, dialogue and respect for different beliefs.<\/p>\n

In his final days we nursed him in my house in Central Havana, before they took him to the Calixto Garc\u00eda Hospital, where a medical team headed by Doctor L\u00e1zaro Mart\u00ednez tried to decipher the reasons for his asphyxiation attack. There we planned many things. He felt the need to write, and he now realized he was the owner of his written creations. He did not want to believe that Matarile, Las manzanas del para\u00edso, Los cuervos and La saga del perseguido [Song in Round, The Apples of Paradise, The Crows and The Saga of the Persecuted] were major Cuban novels of the 20th century, like we and many writers told him. \u201cWhen the critics don\u2019t talk about a novel there is a reason,\u201d he told us, full of doubt, since he was incapable even of realizing that in Cuba the majority of critics (also novelists, of course) spent years trying to achieve the genius that he managed without very much effort, and for that reason it was not convenient for them to accept the reality of his greatness. Only the storyteller and essayist, Alberto Garrand\u00e9s, dared to write and publish this: \u201cVidal has become, I believe, the best living novelist among us, if that distinction \u2013 perhaps a mere phrase \u2013 has some meaning inside his probable skepticism toward human glory.\u201d And that simple sentence incited no small amount of venomous comments in the minor cultural milieu of supposedly great glories of Cuban literature.<\/p>\n

When I found out about his death, days after we sent him back to Las Tunas to terminate his recuperation under medical treatment, I wrote a brief message where I communicated his loss to friends, and I posted it on the Internet. In barely a couple of hours, I received more than 100 messages from every part of the world, and again I had to tremble before a truth that we both had defended: the brotherhood of humanity above beliefs and differences of any nature. All Cubans, no matter where they live in this world, who knew him or listened to Guillermo Vidal talk, responded with beautiful messages on the significance of his death for Cuban culture. And at that moment again, the dignity of a man like him dealt a demolishing blow to intolerance and the lack of dialogue that has divided and still divides Cubans in relation to the search for a road for the country: the differences disappeared, and all of us were united in grief as we really are, brothers. I believe that this was the best homage we ever gave Guillermo.<\/p>\n

Perhaps he knew that he was going to die. For that reason he named me as his literary executor. For that reason he left to all of us who knew him his most beautiful and sad testament: \u201cI know that if I depart, I will go with Christ,\u201d the most beautiful testament; \u201cIt pains me to depart without having been able to leave to my son and to you a worthy place to live,\u201d said to his wife, Solangel, the saddest testament. That a man who contributed so much to thought and to Cuban culture would have gotten sick and died (among other causes) through the bad living conditions of his tenement, and that his son of five years old and his wife are still living in that dark pigpen in a marginal neighborhood in Las Tunas, is something that many people should be ashamed of, since all the power that they say they have (and that they have used many times to foment the intolerance that Guillermo criticized in life) has not been enough to find a solution for such a simple thing.<\/p>\n

A great writer will continue being one in spite of all that. His work remains. His memory remains. His example of being human and a son of God remains. And even in that I am tied to Guillermo: it was he who one day showed me the beautiful face of Christ, which changed my life forever.<\/p>\n

A couple of days before dying, in one of his attacks, Guillermo started to scream, desperate: \u201cIf someone thinks that I am now going to renounce Christ, he is very mistaken; I am going to Christ.\u201d Several days after his death, my three-year-old son, who since he was a baby felt a predilection for the uncle he called \u201cYiyi,\u201d stopped in front of the poster that his family gave me as a souvenir and that I have in my library together with all his autographed books. He looked at it a few seconds and then said, \u201cPapa, Yiyi is in the sky with Jesus Christ, and he is going to come flying to see me.\u201d We had not even told him that his uncle Guillermo had died. How did he know? Only God knows. But from that moment, because we know that God speaks through children, we confirmed that Guille was in the place that he so much had yearned for: at the right hand of God.<\/p>\n

It seems like an ending for a novel, but it is life. Guillermo, wherever he is, would be pleased. We prefer to remember him like that: a rascal, smiling, always ready with a joke to make his friends laugh, mocking without cruelty, critical without being aggressive, a joker in the most Cuban way.<\/p>\n

As in that photo we took, all the Cubans who attended the International Book Fair of Guadalajara, invited by the Plaza Mayor publisher. In the photo, which I am posting here, appear very well-known Cuban writers, who live on the island or in other countries. From left to right, in the first row and seated: the poet Sifredo Ariel, the pubisher Patricia Guti\u00e9rrez Menoyo and the poet Emilio Garc\u00eda Montiel; in the second row: I, the poet and storyteller Odette Alonso, the researcher Rita Molinero and the storyteller Miguel Mejides; and in the last row, standing: the poet Agust\u00edn Labrada, the storyteller Andr\u00e9s Jorge and Guillermo Vidal.<\/p>\n

When we saw the photo in the digital camera, Guillermo said, very serious but with those lovely green eyes where humor almost danced with enjoyment: \u201cHere are some who call themselves writers.\u201d<\/p>\n

I prefer to end, then, with the photo, and with the caption that he proposed that day.<\/p>\n

\"Escritores<\/a>

Con otros escritores cubanos en Guadalajara M\u00e9xico<\/p><\/div>\n

The very famous world writer Guillermo Vidal and some unknowns.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Art\u00edculo en espa\u00f1ol e ingl\u00e9s (a continuaci\u00f3n del original en espa\u00f1ol), gracias a la traducci\u00f3n de la escritora y periodista Regina M. Anavy.   Empezar la primera entrega de una columna personal de un escritor hablando de otro escritor, es decir, de un supuesto rival (si seguimos esa absurda tendencia de entender la literatura como […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-90","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-publicados-anteriormente-en-amirvalle-com"],"yoast_head":"\nUn tal por cual llamado Guillermo Vidal - A t\u00edtulo personal<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/amirvalle.com\/a-titulo-personal\/publicados-anteriormente-en-amirvalle-com\/un-tal-por-cual-llamado-guillermo-vidal\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"es_ES\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Un tal por cual llamado Guillermo Vidal - A t\u00edtulo personal\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Art\u00edculo en espa\u00f1ol e ingl\u00e9s (a continuaci\u00f3n del original en espa\u00f1ol), gracias a la traducci\u00f3n de la escritora y periodista Regina M. 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