My calendar warned me: on Friday, November 7, Xavier Velasco and David Toscana had their birthdays; Nacho Padilla would also celebrate it if it weren’t for his premature death. I have had the fortune of living with all three of them and, of course, I have also read much of their work. Beyond the coincidence in birthdays, the truth is that the three have been literary references of what has been written in our country in recent decades. Furthermore, they are close in age.
Although he had previous books, we knew Xavier, above all, because of what the Alfaguara Prize that he obtained with guardian devil. Beyond any possible criticism, the truth is that it was like a breath of fresh air in a literary world full of solemnity. Not for nothing did some call him “Enfant terrible of Mexican letters.” His prose had the ease of someone who had known worlds full of squalor and night.
Nacho was, without exaggeration, one of the best short story writers of the second half of the Mexican 20th century. He had the ability to get into the interstices of the genre to exploit its possibilities. He also delivered memorable novels, although, sadly, some are already difficult to obtain.
David is one of the great storytellers to come out of our country. With that strange mix of harsh reality inhabited by unique characters, he has novels that ask nothing of the great works published by his contemporaries anywhere in the world.
The coincidences continue. As far as I know, two of them wrote their work by hand, in special notebooks, where their letters occupied a space before the screens. Not only that, all three have had a clear concern for language. Although very different, their prose are precise, as they usually go in search of the right word, a deep knowledge of the language.
Your editors have commented, on several occasions, that it is always a pleasure to receive your manuscripts. Contrary to what you might believe, not all writers practice their craft neatly. They do. They deliver when they are sure, after multiple reviews, files where the craft is evident. Editing them, they say, is quite a pleasant task.
Coincidences are useful for whatever one uses them for. In this case, this shared birthday serves to turn to see their work, to enter incredible worlds beyond the preference of each reader. Thus, the common name day is a pretext that invites reading. So be it.