Andrés Paniagua Curiel (anselmo_b) wrote,
Andrés Paniagua Curiel
anselmo_b

Ernesto Sabato is dead.

Ernesto Sabato was one of the great ones. His intellect was forged across ideas and disciplines; he was a soon disillusioned communist in his youth, studied physics, researched at the Curie laboratory in Paris and was in contact with the surrealist movement. Then he became a writer. His novels are intimate, intensive, poignant and disquieting. I keep going back to them every few years. There is none of the cliché stridency that is often expected of Latin-American authors in his style, he didn’t share Borges’ proclivity to intellectual playfulness, nevertheless his prose was unique and his narrative profound. It is unsuitable to compare their work, but I can say, from my very personal, subjective point of view, that the experience of reading Sabato is similar to that of reading John Crowley. Both stir things deep inside me, although they portray intimate realities and experiences very different from mine.
If I could write, Sabato would be one of the very few whom I would follow and imitate without any guilt or shame.

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