For over four decades, Mario Vargas Llosa, the Peruvian literary giant and Nobel laureate, was a member of the Inter-American Dialogue. He added luster and stature to an organization committed to democracy and the open exchange of ideas.
Whether or not one agreed with his political positions, it is hard not to note Vargas Llosa’s passing with enormous sadness. His literary gift to the world—particularly the Spanish-speaking world—was immeasurable.
Vargas Llosa was best known for his widely read and acclaimed novels, some of which were utterly masterful. Perhaps none stands out more—and is more enduring—than Conversation in the Cathedral (1970), whose dense narrative captures the disintegration of a society in moral and institutional decline in Peru. The Feast of the Goat (2000) is a brilliant work of historical fiction that highlights the perversities of the longstanding Trujillo dictatorship in the Dominican Republic. In Harsh Times (2019), Vargas Llosa tells the shameful story of the U.S. government and United Fruit Company’s intervention in Guatemala in 1954, which helped give rise to rebel movements in Cuba and elsewhere that lasted for decades.
Enrique Zileri, the late founder and former editor of the Peruvian magazine Caretas, used to tell me that Vargas Llosa, while undoubtedly an extraordinary novelist, may have been an even better chronicler. In his elegantly written and perceptive essays, Vargas Llosa evinced a profound understanding of the human condition by exploring such diverse themes as violence, inequality, corruption, indigenous struggles, and civil unrest.
Vargas Llosa’s rare talent as a chronicler was reflected in his own political memoir, A Fish in Water (1993), which described his failed attempt to reach the presidency of Peru in 1990. Vargas Llosa’s foray into Peruvian politics coincided with my move to Lima in early 1987, when he led the chorus of criticism of then-president Alan García’s attempt to nationalize the country’s banks.
Supporters urged him to pursue a presidential bid. Though he won the first round, he was roundly defeated in the runoff by a virtually unknown agronomist, Alberto Fujimori. It was a bitter experience. Vargas Llosa recounts how disillusioned he was that key groups in his country failed to rally around him to lead Peru out of its economic and security crises.
In the following years, as Fujimori became increasingly authoritarian, I had a number of conversations with Vargas Llosa in Lima to discuss the worrisome political situation in Peru. Although his democratic ideals and convictions were clear, Vargas Llosa struck me as still a novice navigating Peru’s often unsavory politics. His skill at storytelling, in contrast, was unsurpassed.
Needless to say, the Dialogue tried to engage Vargas Llosa as much as possible over the years—not only because of his star quality, but because he was invariably eloquent and often provocative, a recipe for spirited dialogue. In November 2003, he participated in a major conference in Washington, D.C., “Democracy and Leadership Challenges in Latin America,” along with former Brazilian president Fernando Henrique Cardoso and other luminaries. He highlighted the importance of trust in strengthening democratic institutions and making them instruments of effective political change.
Over the years, I confess that I became something of a Vargas Llosa addict. I read many of his novels and devoured most, if not all, of his columns, Piedra de Toque (Touchstone)—even those that dealt with topics that didn’t interest me or took stands with which I strongly disagreed. It didn’t matter. They were a sheer joy to read: the style and technique, the structure of the column, the rhythm and beauty of the prose. What Vargas Llosa wrote about one of his literary heroes, the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges, can also be said about himself—he was a writer “who has been an inexhaustible source of intellectual pleasure.”
