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This year’s Guatemala International Book Fair FILGUA came so suddenly that for those of us working in publishing and cultural management projects, it seemed as if a whole year had not passed. Time passed so quickly, and we felt nothing as we were once again – because as I write these words, there are only a few days left – in a space of intense exchange, promotion and coexistence between books.
I came back a few days early: everything became a race to get everything ready. Books printed and in stock, details of decorating the space, last-minute setbacks and a long list of tasks that make these days – like the days before the Quetzaltenango International Poetry Festival for me – a process of learning the broad meaning and dimensions of life; in any case, in the process of making and selling books, you learn something, and what if you don’t learn, the pressure reaches the limit.
For several years, I have owned a small car that helped me take my son to school every day and transport the great figures of Latin American art and culture along the most winding roads of this long-suffering Guatemala. It is also a freight vehicle and in recent years has transported 80% of the items we have placed at the Metafora Editores stand at FILGUA. Once again, in the best style of Tetris players, we made everything fit inside the car: an orderly chaos, put this on top, a box on top of another, a bookcase next to another. This is the situation of the publishing house, 189 kilometers from the convention center.
(frasepzp1)
We left Sierraju with many dreams. This year we got to watch the sunrise on the Americas Highway, there is nothing more beautiful than witnessing how the sun draws or writes light in the shadows. Nothing is more moving than seeing the clarity of the mountains. By then, with Samuel, we knew we were on the right path: betting on what we are passionate about is the best revolution.
In a broken country, where beauty and horror intertwine, promoting reading and poetry books is a ritual gesture, something I have voluntarily decided to do for most of my life. My days are probably over, and every time I see a new book being born, I feel a new path is being born. I always like to imagine what happens after someone buys a book, what will be its fate when? Will it be read? I know now that these questions are still the foundation of my persistence.
I recognize and appreciate the work of those who courageously support FILGUA, and those who support projects in other regions, such as the Xela Book Fair, the Mazatenango Book Fair, etc., which shows that there is still hope, and in these areas I also recognize the work of editors and all those who contribute to this very important field, reading and promoting books is nothing less than a commitment to knowledge and the preservation of individual and collective memory.
One of those evenings, as we headed to rest in the place we rented with Samuel (coffee artist, brother, with whom I’ve been working for two years on the booth project at FILGUA), we were talking about how strange Guatemala City is and how difficult and expensive life is here, but how comforting it is to greet and shake hands with the many friends and strangers we meet while we recommend a book and a cup of coffee, and Samuel said categorically: We have to keep doing this, without any fanfare, right? Know why? Because we are the silence that makes noise. I believe him.
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