Cuentos by Augusto Monterroso



Augusto Monterroso and Julio Cortázar

"Without standing on tiptoe, I easily measure five feet, three inches. I have been little since I was little." So Honduran author Augusto Monterroso tell us. I wonder what 5'3" Augusto must have been thinking having his photo taken with 6'4" Julio Cortázar.

Augusto's wit and humor shines through in all of his writing. Here's my short write-up on one of Augusto's memorable short stories:

DIOGENES TOO
Poor Pedro! In Augusto's story, his main character, a kid that "aside from an imperceptible, hardly bothersome cranial deformation, he was a child like any other" is only referred to by the first letter of his first-name. But, since I'm feeling generous today, I'll give Augusto's protagonist a full first-name: Pedro.

As I said, poor Pedro. Pedro hates to return home from school since his house is small, dirty and stinks. Besides which, his mother (I was about to call her "dear mother" but thought better of it) continually hounds him to study his lessons, study his lessons. Hey mom - get off the kid's back! Once in his room, sitting at his desk, Pedro recalls the joyful, happy faces of all his classmates. "Ooooh, if I could only be happy like everyone at school."

But then a few paragraphs in, Augusto Monterroso pulls a switcheroo - his story clicks into first-person as Pedro himself admits he's been the narrator all along, as per:

"My house - as I think I've already mentioned - was a few blocks, perhaps four and a few steps more, from the school. Maybe five. I can't say for certain; there's no point in my trying to recall a single time when I took the direct route home. What I used to do, what I always did, what I needed to do, was to make a great detour, like the one that gets you out of the opening paragraphs of this story."

Pedro goes on to relate the story of his life in ten pages. Here's a few highlights, or should I say "lowlights" since it is mostly a sad story (but, of course, peppered by Augusto's humor):

Pedro made many detours on his way home from school: he went into ecstasy at the sight of all the yellow and red fruit at the market; he listened to mysterious noises at sunset by the river (couples having passionate sex?); he beheld the faces and bodies of mutilated stone saints at the local church (mutilated in their life or by the effects of time?). Then, having arrived home late, his mother routinely slapped, scolded and dug her nails into his arm. Poor Pedro!

Pedro's father was frequently away, off making money in a distant city, or so Mom said. No deception for Pedro. Nope, Pedro tells it like it is: his father was a bum, a real bum, a constantly drunk bum. Pedro goes farther: "I don't believe any other child (except my son) had had a father like mine." You gotta love Augusto's black humor - if you didn't catch that "except my son" please read the above quote again.

Why, Pedro wondered, did his father accuse him of not being his son but the son of a whore? And why did his father slap and punch him so frequently he had trouble repeating the multiplication tables at school (actually, even to this day, Pedro stammers and trembles any time he attempts multiplication).

Eventually, they get a dog, a dog called Diogenes. Only an author like Augusto Monterroso could inject bits of humor into such a household. Poor Diogenes! Poor Pedro! Poor family!

Hey, wait a minute. Did Augusto Monterroso pull another switcheroo toward the end of his tale? You'll have to read for yourself.

As something of a bonus, I hope you get a kick out of the following four Augusto Monterroso short-story-story-short stories:

PERPETUAL MOTION
Life is not an essay, although we attempt many things; it is not a story, although we invent many things; it is not a poem, although we dream many things. The essay about the story about the poem about life is perpetual motion; that's it exactly, perpetual motion.

I KNOW YOU, MASK
Humor and timidity generally go together. You are no exception. Humor is one mask and timidity is another. Do not allow anyone to remove both at the same time.

HUMOR
Humor is realism carried to its final consequences. With the exception of most humorous literature, everything that man does is laughable or humorous. In war what we do stops being funny because in war man stops being funny. As Eduardo Torres said: "Man is not content with being the stupidest animal in Creation; he also permits himself the luxury of being the only one that is ridiculous."

IT MAY BE TRUE
But I have been losing any resemblance I may once have had to a writer as my economic circumstances have improved too much and my social relationships have widened to the point where I cannot write anything without offending someone I know, or unintentionally flattering one of my protectors and patrons, which means most people.

Thanks, Augusto! You overcame your 5'3" height (or should I say shortness) to write first-rate literature that also prompts laughter in a reader. After all, you were tall enough to reach the typewriter on your writing desk!



Readers of English may find these stories in Complete Works and Other Stories published by University of Texas Press

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