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Jaime Izquierdo Vásquez, goodbye


Pictured: Jaime Izquierdo Vásquez.

Dantas Nancy called me yesterday to tell me Iquitos Jaime Izquierdo Vásquez, my longtime friend, was dying in the hospital. And now Martin Reategui called me to say that today at 2 am Vasquez Jaime Izquierdo died, alone, sick, after several weeks of not sleeping and not eating.

And I think: how many days and nights of conversation animated, alone or with Manuel Mosquera, under the warm nights of Iquitos, between the storms raging or the scorching heat of the afternoon. Sometimes playing the violin. He often spoke of the book he had just written. And is that Jaime Izquierdo Vásquez, who no doubt hardly anyone knows in Peru, is one of the greatest novelists in Peru.

first thing I read about him were his poems, poetry and suffering vibrant, beautiful and cruel as a torn life. In 1986 he published Putumayo River, Loreto extraordinary novel of love, war and social criticism. Then came the first two volumes of his tetralogy Lamb of God, attempt great fiction novel, which flows the life of a rural Iquitos is urban hurried steps. And here Vásquez Jaime Izquierdo demonstrates his Judaism, religion mother embracing with humility and fervor. After Black Kontinente published, winding tales of a conscience punished for the blues. His last published novel (written have many more, hopefully the family care) was the sergeant War Ballesteros, bitter testimony against Lima centralism and useless wars to defend the territory, because the politicians were responsible for cedérselos countries neighbors.

Jaime Izquierdo Vásquez not just fiction, create captivating stories and experiences with his own biography in each narrative. It also rebuilds its own language, based on the phonetic English Sephardic, and molds to the Castilian attractive functionality for your novel.

But Jaime Izquierdo Vásquez is gone. Died today. I talked to him a few months. I telephoned, I was ill, had attempted suicide and was recovering. We just shook the unpleasant news of the death of the great poet Juan Ramirez Ruiz, and a large one is dying. No matter that few know or hardly anyone has read his books. Already know. And read it. And the words sound so insignificant when there is only a great friend of the remembrance.