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Wednesday, April 29, 2009 3:48PM
 
A Picture of Sergio Ramirez
Posted By: Lyn Miller-Lachmann

Tags: Sergio Ramirez, translation, historical fiction, Nicaragua, photography, World Voices
When I think of Sergio Ramírez a picture comes to mind: a photograph I took in 1986 or 1987 in Madison, Wisconsin. He gave a reading at UW-Madison, and various banners hung from the balcony of the University Chapel--red-and-black Sandinista flags and hand-painted banners that read, "U.S. OUT OF NICARAGUA," and "SOLIDARITY WITH THE NICARAGUAN PEOPLE" I wondered what Ramírez through, as he juggled his identity as a writer with his duties as Vice-President of Nicaragua, as he observed an audience far more interested in him as a political figure, a symbol of the embattled Sandinista government resisting the interference of the mighty superpower to the north. And I were I to show him the photos I took, which accompanied my interview with him for a Madison newspaper, what would he say now about his 12-year journey with his Sandinista comrades? Ramírez has returned to private life, to his role as a writer, and I approach his reading of A Thousand Deaths Plus One with particular interest, having seen him in another time, another place, another role.

Photographs and their complicated backstory are a theme of A Thousand Deaths Plus One, which portrays the life of pioneer Nicaraguan photographer Juan Castellón and a parallel search for Castellón by a writer obsessed with his work. Following an introduction by the publisher of the English translation, Bruce McPherson of McPherson & Co., Ramírez read the second chapter in Spanish, alternating with translator Leland Chambers reading the English version.

Chapter Two, titled "A country that does not exist," describes a visit by Juan Castellón's father, Francisco Castellón, to the eastern coast of Nicaragua in the middle of the nineteenth century, some years before the photographer's birth. Francisco has an interview with the "Mosquito King," a man who, despite his blond hair, claims the mixed indigenous and African ancestry of the people of Mosquitía. The Mosquito King has proclaimed himself a ruler of the coast because of his travel to England and his relationship with British military officials who have colonized the regions of Central America that border the Caribbean. He has offered the elder Castellón safe passage to England because he wants Castellón to return, marry his sister Catherine (at this point eight years old), and unite the western half of Nicaragua, centered in León, with the eastern half. The payoff is the wealth connected with the planned construction of a canal in Nicaragua, as long as the united Nicaragua can profit from the rivalry of British, U.S., and French interests.

Ramírez contrasts the lofty ambitions of the Mosquito King with images of the remote coastal region--Castellón's arrival in a canoe, stepping over crab shells on the way to the "palace," the sticky heat, the stench of rotting fish hanging from the rafters. Then there are the books imported from Europe in a babel of languages--the king's claim to "civilization." With vivid, sensory detail, Ramírez sets the stage--the theatrical presentation for a false king. And the chapter concludes with the photographer Juan Castellón's reflection--for he was not yet born--"What I wouldn't have given to have been able to take that picture!"

Although the format--Ramírez reading a page followed by Chambers reading the same page in English--made for a lengthy session for a literary reading, the selection has inspired me to read the rest of the novel. I enjoyed Ramírez's previous novel translated into English, Margarita, How Beautiful the Sea (Curbstone Press, 2008), which explored early twentieth-century Nicaraguan history through the parallel stories of renowned Nicaraguan poet Rubén Darío and another poet, Rigoberto López Pérez, who several generations later, in 1956, would assassinate the first dictator Somoza. Like this earlier work, A Thousand Deaths Plus One explores the intersection of art, politics, and history in a small country that for a brief moment not so long ago dominated the news. As I think about my photo from 22 years ago, I recognize that the same intersection of art, politics, and history has served as the theme of Ramírez's life as well.
 
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