Mysteries and illuminations of Chavarría’s Edgar Prize
http://www.granma.cubaweb.cu/2002/05/07/cultura/articulo02.html 
An exceptional moment for
Latin American detective stories in the United States
By: Pedro de la Hoz
A CubaNews translation by Ana Portela.
Edited by Walter Lippmann.

[Cover of English edition.]

Some may have been surprised, others not. That a book by Daniel Chavarría, Adiós muchachos, has been proclaimed winner of the 2002 Edgar Prize as the best original novel in popular format (best original paperback) may be surprising in the English speaking literary world because, never before, had a Latin American been able to break into a spot reserved for those who speak the language of Poe. But for those who have followed this Uruguayan writer, living in Cuba for three decades, and who has become so at home that his writing is considered ours, there isn’t the slightest doubt about his narrative as the most unique and singular detective or criminal novel literature. The Edgar Allen Poe is an old important prize sponsored by the North American Associations of Mystery writers (headquartered in New York) that began granting these awards half a century ago to literary works, both fiction and testimonials, to critical-biographical studies and today includes television and film productions. To get an Edgar is like conquering the route for other U.S. prizes such as the Oscar (for films), the Grammy (for music) and the Tony (for theater). Writers, critics and journalists vote to nominate five works in each of the twelve categories – nomination of itself is an important publicity boost – and then meet again to vote for the prize. The board offers honorary prizes in the fields of edition and promotion; the most important of all, the Special Award, went this time to the filmmaker Blake Edwards, known by us for his series of the Pink Panther.

The category for which Chavarría was nominated and later awarded is different from the Best Novel in answer to editorial techniques: some texts are better published in hard cover and are, therefore, more expensive and others in popular editions or pocketbook as is Adiós muchachos by Akashic Books in 2001. The publishing house received an unprecedented success with the story of the Cuban-Uruguayan, much reported by the critics because of his ingenuity and humor in the description of the ups and downs of a prostitute who solicits from her bicycle in Havana during the hard years of the special period. Chavarría’s contenders were all heavy weights in U.S. detective literature: Hell’s Kitchen published William Jeffries (alias of Jeffrey Deaver) whose horror plots in the style of Bloody River Blues, well received by the critics and readers. The fourth novel by Teri Holbrook, The Mother Tongue, is preceded by fame in the 90s by the criminal series revolving around the historiographer Gayle Grason (A Far and Deadly Cry, The Grass Widow and Sad Water), who researches murders in England and later in her Georgia home. The Uruguayan-Cuban also competed against Dead of Winter, by P.J. Parrish, whose editors were sure of leaving with the Edgar prize. Parrish created a famous personage, detective Louis Kincaid. And last but not least important was Straw Men, by Martin J. Smith who is proud to be a preceded by Raymond Chandler and whose novel was praised by James Elroy (author of L.A. Confidential) that combines perfect intrigue, action and character.” Chavarría and Cuban literature can proclaim a prize that included Chandler (The Long Good-bye, 1954), John Le Carré (The spy who came in from the cold, 1965) and Frederic Forsyth (The day of the Jackal, 1972).

Granma Daily
September 7, 2002
Daniel Chavarría defrosts the iceberg
By: Antonio Paneque Brizuela

A CubaNews translation by Ana Portela.
Edited by Walter Lippmann.
http://www.granma.cubaweb.cu/2002/09/07/cultura/articulo04.html 

In true Hemmingway mystique about one eighth of an iceberg is above the surface and the other seven eighth submerged. It seems that the iceberg is defrosted in the novel Adiós muchachos by an author who "fills" brief pages with a synthesis of a culture where the academic is mixed with the mundane without touching on encyclopedias and barrio skirmishes that may hide - "under water" - his particular language.

Of course, this may not have been the intention of Daniel Chavarría when he wrote the original version (written in only 32 days and later improved) that was awarded the U.S. Edgar prize in the style of Raymond Chandler one of the great winners. Although Chavarría was close with his Allá lejos that won him the Gijon Dashiel Hammett in 1992.

It is difficult to imagine a narrative of such a simple structure, unparalleled metaphorical paragraphs, all set down in regular syntaxes (perhaps mistakenly common sentence structure of subject-verb-complement), forms of expression and semantics of global reach and an empathic flavor capable of exiting us and make us think: "How I understand you, Chavarría"!

Of course, this is not limited to only this piece in his large repertoire (we should not forget The perfume of Joy) but, in truth, we expected a crushing erudition, Latin, Germanic, Gallic terms and all foreign language flavor (if we ignore the coherent phrases in English, that are also translated) and rhetorical complexity of a top quality artist, of high education, former university professor of Latin and Greek.

But take care; it is no longer news in modern times to write the complex simply; "it is difficult to write simply".

On the other hand, a more profound analysis of the book - not appropriate with the space we have - would reveal a broader explanation and more prolific details of virtues (or defects). For a quick reader it is easy to say that the novel is a page-turner according to those who have read it. Among these is the Spanish journalist, José M. Martín, who recently made the first presentation of Adiós muchachos in Havana after the decision, last May, of the Mystery Writers of América.

Martin explained that the novel has "at least four or five ingredients required for the genre (detective, black or adventure): a good story, real dialogues, a dose of humor, a bit of sex and a great dose of tenderness. The dialogue in this book, truly, is a form of expression that recalls Hemmingway and the slang language of the detective stories of Chandler and Hammett.

"Adiós muchachos is as transparent as crystal" said Lesyani Sobrado, when she read it.

"I had read all the translations of the novel - Chavarría commented - but I hadn't read it again in Spanish from 1995-97. Doing it again, I was actually surprised. That little novel isn't bad at all. There is a Latin saying that: "Books pave there own future", because, sometimes, it goes beyond the intentions of the author. And that is what has happened with this book".
http://www.granma.cubaweb.cu/2002/09/07/cultura/articulo04.html

Daniel Chavarría descongela el iceberg

Antonio Paneque Brizuela

La mística teoría hemingweyana de la octava parte del iceberg ("arriba") y otras siete apoyando ("abajo") parece haber sido descongelada en la novela Adiós muchachos por un autor que "llena" sus breves páginas con la síntesis de una cultura donde se mezclan lo académico y lo mundano, pero sin que apenas se noten las enciclopedias y escaramuzas de barrio que pudiera ocultar —"bajo el agua"— ese lenguaje suyo a tiro de pistola para cualquier bañista.

Claro que no tiene que haber sido necesariamente esa la intención de Daniel Chavarría al concebir su versión original (escrita inicialmente en solo 32 días y luego mejorada) de esta obra ganadora ahora en un certamen estadounidense como el Edgar con antecedentes de linaje a lo Raymond Chandler, uno de sus ganadores colosales. Aunque Chavarría ya picaba cerca desde antes, mediante su Allá lejos, que le granjeó el Dashiel Hammett en Gijón (1992).

No resulta simple concebir una narrativa de estructura tan sencilla, párrafos de metáforas sin élite, todo afincado en la sintaxis regular (quizás erróneamente preterida por su "simplón" camino sujeto-verbo-complementos), formas de expresión y semántica al alcance de todos y un sabor a empatía capaz de extasiarnos y hacernos pensar: "¡Cómo te comprendo, Chavarría!".

Naturalmente que ello no se reduce solo a esta pieza de su extensa novelística (nunca olvidemos el perfume de Joy), pero la verdad es que en esta se queda uno esperando la aplastante erudición, los latinazgos, germanismos, galicismos y todo olor a lengua extranjera (si exceptuamos las coherentes frases en inglés, por demás traducidas) y complejidad retórica que se sobreentendería debiéramos esperar de un creador de alta calle, pero de elevada escuela, ex profesor universitario de latín y griego.

Pero cuidado, ya no es noticia en los tiempos modernos concebir lo complejo que es escribir sencillo. Igual a: lo difícil que es escribir fácil.

Por lo demás, un análisis más a fondo de la obra —excluido ahora por el espacio— revelaría una explicación menos exigua y un inventario más prolífico de virtudes (o defectos). Para el lector apurado baste añadirle que la novela se lee irremisiblemente "de un tirón", en lo cual coinciden todos los que han podido adquirirla, incluido el periodista español José M. Martín, quien recientemente hizo la primera presentación de Adiós muchachos en La Habana después de publicado en mayo último el dictamen de la Mystery Writers of América.

Martín apreció en esta novela "por lo menos cuatro o cinco ingredientes que deben exigírsele a este género (policíaco, negro, o de aventuras): buena historia, diálogos auténticos, dosis de humor, buena dosis de sexo y una gran dosis de ternura". El empleo del diálogo es en esta obra, por cierto, otra de las cargas expresivas que la acercan a Hemingway y recuerdan el filo coloquial del policíaco en Chandler y Hammett.

"Adiós muchachos es transparente como un cristal", nos decía, por su parte, Lesyani Sobrado, una lectora de ocasión.

"He leído todas las traducciones que han hecho de la novela —comenta el propio Chavarría—, pero no la había vuelto a leer en español desde los años 1996-97. Y, al volverlo a hacer ahora, la verdad es que me sorprendió. No está mala la novelita. Dice un viejo aforismo latino: 'Los libros tienen su propio destino', porque a veces van más allá de las intenciones del autor. Y con este libro ha pasado eso."