Life, a Moment. Review of the book Now and in the Hour (Ahora y en la hora) by Héctor Abad Faciolince.

Preliminary note: This literary review was originally published in Spanish in the newspaper El Correo del Golfo, where the author publishes a weekly column under his given name (Dixon Moya) an in this Blog: https://blogs.elespectador.com/actualidad/lineas-de-arena/la-vida-un-instante-a-proposito-del-libro-ahora-y-en-la-hora-de-hector-abad-faciolince/

Some of us have been defining the great novel, El Olvido que Seremos (translate to English as Oblivion: A Memoir or Memories of My Father), as a long love letter from a son to his father. These days, the author of that endearing work presents his readers with a testimonial document, several books in one, Ahora y en la Hora (literal translation is Now and, in the Hour, but I don’t know an official translation), which could be described as a father’s testament of love to his children, his wife, and friends. A different text from the first, Héctor Abad Faciolince once again moves the reader’s soul.

This book is not only a testimony of solidarity and affection for a just cause, that of Ukraine, whose population has suffered the invasion and constant attacks of the powerful Russian army following Vladimir Putin’s orders. In that sense, the author stands on the right side of history, as did those who exposed the Nazi Holocaust against the Jews, or those who now denounce the genocide of the Palestinian people by Benjamin Netanyahu’s government, as Abad Faciolince has also done.

Faithful readers of Héctor Abad always await a new novel from him, but this time he brings us a different book. Something that is not foreign to him, if we recall that Culinary treaty for Sad Women, which the author himself couldn’t define in its essence. In the case of Ahora y en la hora, it is a miscellaneous book, in which poetry appears as a special guest, at times managing to save what prose recognizes itself incapable of resolving. But it could also be seen as a penitent work, helping to offset the weight of guilt that torments the writer. A most unfair blame, because the author is not responsible for the event he describes, nor for human cruelty in general.

The best moment of this year’s Bogotá Book Fair, in my opinion, came during the conversation between two Colombian writers, Ricardo Silva Romero and Héctor Abad Faciolince, one from Bogotá and the other from Medellín, who share a common interest in the vast land of literature. In that delightful conversation, Héctor presented his book as the chronicle of a death foretold, because we already know about the death of the protagonist, the writer Victoria Amelina, who was killed along with twelve other people, including minors, by a Russian missile launched at a restaurant where only unarmed civilians were present. However, it is necessary to know the causes and details of the terrible event. 

Héctor had changed seats at the table with Victoria moments before the attack, an event that saved the author’s life, but changed it forever. The book we’re discussing isn’t just about that terrible moment, which could be summed up in the anecdote of a survivor. No, it’s much more. It speaks about the history and stories that took place in Ukraine, but it also introduces us to authors who are Ukrainian or born in what is, was, or will be Ukraine, even those of other nationalities, such as the great science fiction author Stanislaw Lem, a survivor of the Nazi Holocaust. Victoria Amelina joins the list, who will surely become better known in our language after Abad Faciolince’s book, especially her novel Dom’s Dream Kingdom.

The text is also a reflection on writing in general and the reasons for its practice. In the case of Héctor Abad, he concludes that he writes for those he loves (children, wife, loved ones), not like García Márquez, who wrote so that his friends would love him more. In other words, two different ways of conceiving the act of literary creation with love. Writing and loving. It’s a book that invites dialogue; it doesn’t impose criteria, and I think the reader may disagree with some of the ideas expressed by the author, who doesn’t pose as a prophet or guru, nor as a hero. 

The author insists on calling himself an old man who should have died in place of his younger colleague, Victoria Amelina, and he constantly reiterates what he calls his cowardice. I profoundly disagree with the author’s insistence on presenting himself as a coward; he isn’t, even though he does his best to convince us. Someone who presents himself with complete transparency, without pretending to be something he isn’t, without claiming to be a champion as others would have done, is not only an honest man, but also a brave one, in these deceitful and Trump-like times.

I also disagree with Héctor when he says there’s no blue sky like Madrid’s and compares it to Jericó and Carmen de Viboral, two endearing towns in Antioquia, a beautiful province whose capital is Medellín. That’s not true. There is no blue sky more beautiful than the one in Bogotá at the end of December and beginning of January. Most readers here will raise their eyebrows, shake their heads, and deny me. I understand them, because foreigners don’t usually come to Bogotá during these times, and most Bogotá residents leave the city, leaving those of us who stay behind with a wonderful gift. In general, everyone has an image of the gray or brown sky of my city, so they can’t even imagine it. Well, the truth is, everyone has their favorite blue sky.

In the final pages of the book, there is a profound reflection on death, one’s own and that of others, but especially that of those we love, the worst evil, as Héctor describes it. “Immortality must have been invented by a father who lost his son,” says a son who lost his father too early in life. What is the word for someone who has lost their children? There’s no such word in Spanish. Héctor wonders if it can be “deshijado” (de-sonified). The Spanish Federation of Parents of Children with Cancer has proposed “huérfilo” (orphile) to describe such pain, using the same Latin structure.

Héctor Abad wonders if any language has a word to describe the grief of parents who have lost their children. Indeed, dear Héctor, Hebrew and Arabic do have the words shjol and thaakil, respectively. These are peoples who are aware of this terrible meaning, especially since October 7, 2023, with the Hamas terrorist attack on the Israeli civilian population and the genocide unleashed by the criminal government of Benjamin Netanyahu against the Palestinian people of Gaza. 

As a Colombian diplomat, I believe that an act of justice and solidarity would be to open a Colombian embassy in Kyiv in the future. Not only have our country expressed its affection for Ukraine through figures like Sergio Jaramillo (founder of the #AguantaUcrania movement) and the author himself, but hundreds of Colombians have participated in the so-called International Legion. Although it’s a complex issue, it nonetheless involves the interests of compatriots in the conflict. If I may make a recommendation, I think the best ambassador would be Héctor Abad Faciolince, although he certainly wouldn’t accept it if the remote possibility arose.

I hope one of the first translations of this book will be into Ukrainian, hopefully through Compás Publishing House, that was originally called Macondo, a name so close to Colombians. Surely well received by Ukrainian readers, this book is several in one: a chronicle of a moment, but also a biography of brave people fighting for peace, an elegy of a heroic people facing the giants of the Earth, all of them represented by a martyred writer.

Human beings come into this world at a certain time, on a certain day, month, and year, just as we will depart at an uncertain time in the future. Life is an instant, or as another universal Paisa, Juan Esteban Aristizábal, better known as Juanes (famous Colombian singer), said, “Life is a little while,” as his mother used to say. Readers should keep this book on their bedside table. In any case, never miss it, because it’s never superfluous, the prayer that moves even agnostics, “Now and at the hour of our death… Amen.”

Dixon Acosta Medellín

On Twitter, you can find me as @dixonmedellin, and I explore the blue sky on Bluesky as @dixonacostamed.bsky.social