PREFACE

Sometimes what is presented before our eyes, although real, is false, that is, the work of a faker. This collection of short stories, The Fake, is based precisely on characters, some taken from history, others pure literary fiction (if history is not), whose behaviour does not coincide with their external or internal reality.

 

The fake and those who fake are on instinct repugnant to us. But we must bear in mind that not all those who present a false reality do so of their own free will, nor are they aware of their falsehood, nor do they do it for no reason, but for some motive which is superior, or which they consider superior, to the truth itself.

 

Dealing with this subject, in this volume we Hind the traitor whose betrayal, from another point of view, is loyalty; the condemned who knows he is innocent but believes he is guilty, depending on the rational or emotional basis on which he judges himself; the writer who lives in the unreality of his words and finally has to face the reality of those same words; the Spanish conquistador's wife in seventeenth-century Asuncion del Paraguay who discovers her true self in a world that has nothing to do with her;

the resurrected man who in his second chance finds himself a stranger in a life that is also strange; the saint who is consumed by the remorse of knowing that he is a counterfeit of his own choosing; the anonymous inpatient (recently identified) who is granted a glimpse of the imposture he will turn into after his own death; the swindler who simply cheats for money.

Ultimately, the fake are part of life, a necessity of life, a consequence of life, because without their fakeness there could be no truth.

 

 

Ricardo Garcia Mataga

The ultimate truth of his life 1950s

 

Happiness is when what you think, what you say and what you do are in harmony.

Mahatma Gandhi

 

…where he least expected it he found his true self

R. Fernandez

Although many saw him and even heard him speak on more than one occasion, not many knew him, and today I am one of the few who still remember Ricardo Garcia Mataga. Perhaps a succinct description and a few brief facts will help to bring him to mind. He was that tall and lean man, with a short moustache, who some decades ago frequented the Central Cafe in the mornings and Elizalde’s Tavern in the evenings. In him had converged our dark brown of the south and the ungainly height of the north, which explained the Hispanicization of his surname, McTaggart, brought by a Presbyterian great- great-grandfather who had come to our city in the mid-nineteenth century, according to what he himself said in his more than frequent discreet chats. You will have seen him more than once talking pompously in front of a cup of coffee, conjuring up the attention of his companions, or leaning against the long wooden bar of the famous wine shop he shared with illustrious citizens with sleepy eyes and trembling legs. He gained a certain renown at one time thanks to a book of poems and a novel with a gypsy setting in which he claimed to have a deep knowledge of these people, their behaviour, their customs. He boasted, above all, of being a skilled connoisseur of human nature. I must admit that all those who treated him listened to him enraptured, and when addressing him, despite his youth, they did not omit to put "don" before his name.

Available

https://www.amazon.es/Fake-Mr-Diego-Nieto-Marc%C3%B3/dp/B0CQLNV366/ref=sr_1_4?crid=FQT0SZG747FX&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.Z5FgVQrXM0xlFAWhCMnAuR_4s6JOMB9GjZgS4ZF4LWP4yL9HRTJd0VvQ5cSE3R4sIZ7RZURhzr_6aoOhGi9-U14PJg9zDZpC1O2OkWlm8D8i1qQYTGLbAUlZUwgdEgIo4wmVpR4cDf2Fw0YcMzMDDZwE9q0cMVFosSbeUirX1NSiprLuOi37PjGSxs88zBhFF2X1aJErV04CtklN0md-C1nFa8EhPE9BpB9NoFA2rjfJ-w7az0uX7oJ8UgYWJbgo-bL3UoBmc7FB__ysNviDUC22yKlupVPOEZgxz_47lh4.A6Je9WMQ3P5V1JNiKGebRr2qVK57blmjTj-pvPMwgRY&dib_tag=se&keywords=diego+nieto+marc%C3%B3&qid=1714210412&sprefix=%2Caps%2C240&sr=8-4






Comentarios

Entradas populares de este blog

MUCH-MANY

INCREASED REGULARLY