Pedro ParamoJuan Rulfo

I came to Comala because I was told my father lived here, a man named Pedro Paramo. That's what my mother told me. And I promised her I'd come see him as soon as she died. I squeezed her hands as a sign I would...

Don't fail to visit him - she urged. Some call him one thing, some another. I'm sure he'd love to meet you.

That's why I couldn't refuse her, and after agreeing so many times I just kept at it until I had to struggle to free my hands from hers, which were now without life. Before this she had told me:


- Don't ask him for anything. Just insist on what's ours. What he was obligated to give me but never did... Make him pay dearly, my son, for the indifference he showed toward us.

- I will, Mother. I never thought I'd keep my promise. Until recently when I began to imagine all kinds of possibilities and allowed my fantasies to run free. And that's how a whole new world started swirling around in my head, a world built on expectations I had for that man named Pedro Paramo, my mother's husband.

Translated from Spanish by Douglas J Weatherford