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    Review ------ "Das Kapital meets Easy Rider." (Times) "A Latin American James Dean or Jack Kerouac." (Washington Post) ..."Ernesto Guevara in search of Che. On this journey of journeys, solitude found solidarity, 'I' turned into 'we'." (Eduardo Galeano) "An extraordinary first-person account. ... It redoubles his image and lends a touch of humanity with enough rough edges to invite controversy." (Los Angeles Times Book Review) "For every comic escapade of the carefree roustabout there is an equally eye-opening moment in the development of the future revolutionary leader. (Time) "There is pathos in these pages -- the pathos of Che himself, ever thoughtful, ever willing to sacrifice all, burning with guilt over his own privileges and never letting his sufferings impede him." (New Yorker) "This candid journal, part self-discovery, part fieldwork, glimmers with portents of the future revolutionary." (Publishers' Weekly) "A revolutionary bestseller... It's true, Marxists just wanna have fun." (Guardian) "What distinguishes these diaries... is that they reveal a human side to El Che which historians have successfully managed to suppress." (Financial Times) "This book should do much to humanize the image of a man who found his apotheosis as a late '60s cultural icon. It is also, incidentally, a remarkably good travel book about South America." (The Scotsman) Read more ( javascript:void(0) ) From the Back Cover ------------------- ERNESTO CHE GUEVARA: "The enormity of our endeavor escaped us in those moments; all we could see was the dust on the road ahead and ourselves on the bike, devouring kilometers in our flight northward." The young Che Guevara's lively and highly entertaining travel diary. This new, expanded edition features exclusive, unpublished photographs taken by the 23-year-old Ernesto on his journey across a continent, and a tender preface by Aleida Guevara offering a highly insightful perspective on her father the man and the icon. "A journey, a number of journeys. Ernesto Guevara in search of adventure, Ernesto Guevara in search of America, Ernesto Guevara in search of Che. On this journey of journeys, solitude found solidarity, 'I' turned into 'we'." -- Eduardo Galeano "Our film is about a young man, Che, falling love with a continent and finding his place in it." Walter Salles, Director of "The Motorcycle Diaries" Read more ( javascript:void(0) ) About the Author ---------------- Ernesto Che Guevara was a leading member of the revolutionary government in Cuba after 1959. He was appointed Minister of Industry and later, as head of the Cuban National Bank, his simple signature of "Che" on Cuba's banknotes angered the heads of international banks and finance capital who considered it a denigration of his office. · Aleida Guevara is the eldest daughter of Ernesto Che Guevara and Aleida March. She works as a pediatric specialist in childhood allegies in a Havana hospital and is a spokesperson for the anti-globalization movement. Read more ( javascript:void(0) ) Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. -------------------------------------------------------- [1] from the Preface by Aleida Guevara March When I read these notes for the first time, they were not yet in book form and I did not know the person who had written them. I was much younger then and I immediately identified with this man who had narrated his adventures in such a spontaneous manner. Of course, as I continued reading, I began to see more clearly who this person was and I was very happy to be his daughter. It is not my aim to tell you anything of what you will discover in this reading, but I do not doubt that when you have finished the book you will want to go back to enjoy some passages again, either for the beauty of what they describe or because of the intensity of the feelings they convey… [2] Saint Guevara’s Day, by Che Guevara, from "The Motorcycle Diaries" Saint Guevara's Day On Saturday, June 14, 1952, I, just a lad, turned 24, on the cusp of that transcendental quarter century, silver wedding of a life, which, all things considered, has not treated me so badly. Early in the morning I went to the river, to try my luck again with the fish, but that sport is like gambling: one starts out winning and ends up losing. In the afternoon we played football and I occupied my usual place in goal, with better results than on earlier occasions. In the evening, after passing by Dr. Bresciani’s house for a delightful, huge meal, they threw a party for us in the dining room of the colony, with a lot of the Peruvian national drink, pisco. Alberto is quite experienced regarding its effects on the central nervous system. With everyone slightly drunk and in high spirits, the colony’s director toasted us warmly, and I, "piscoed," replied with something elaborate, like the following: Well, it’s my duty to respond to the toast offered by Dr. Bresciani with something more than a conventional gesture. In our presently precarious state as travelers, we only have recourse to words and I would now like to use them to express my thanks, and those of my traveling compañero, to all of the staff the colony who, almost without knowing us, have given us this beautiful demonstration of their affection, celebrating my birthday as if it were an intimate celebration for one of your own. But there is something more. Within a few days we will be leaving Peruvian territory, so these words have the secondary intention of being a farewell, and I would like to stress our gratitude to all the people of this country, who have unfailingly shown us their warmest hospitality since we entered Peru via Tacna. I would also like to say something else, unrelated to the theme of this toast. Although our insignificance means we can’t be spokespeople for such a noble cause, we believe, and after this journey more firmly than ever, that the division of [Latin] America into unstable and illusory nations is completely fictional. We constitute a single mestizo race, which from Mexico to the Magellan Straits bears notable ethnographical similarities. And so, in an attempt to rid myself of the weight of small-minded provincialism, I propose a toast to Peru and to a United Latin America. My oratory offering was received with great applause. The party, consisting in these parts of drinking as much alcohol as possible, continued until three in the morning, when we finally called it a day... The raft was almost ready, only needing oars. That night an assembly of the colony’s patients gave us a farewell serenade, with lots of local songs sung by a blind man. The orchestra was made up of a flute player, a guitarist and an accordion player with almost no fingers, and a "healthy" contingent helping out with a saxophone, a guitar and some percussion. After that came the time for speeches, in which four patients spoke as well as they could, a little awkwardly. One of them froze, unable to go on, until out of desperation he shouted, "Three cheers for the doctors!" Afterwards, Alberto thanked them warmly for their welcome, saying that Peru’s natural beauty could not compare with the emotional beauty of this moment, that he had been deeply touched, that he could say no more except… and here he extended his arms with Perón-like gesture and intonation, "I want to give my thanks to all of you." The patients cast off and to the sound of a folk tune the human cargo drifted away from shore; the tenuous light of their lanterns giving the people a ghostly quality. We went to Dr. Bresciani’s house for a few drinks, and after chatting for a while, to bed. Friday was our day of departure, so in the morning we paid a farewell visit to the patients and, after taking a few photos, came back carrying two fine pineapples, a gift from Dr. Montoya. We bathed and ate, and close to three in the afternoon began to say our goodbyes. At half past three our raft, christened the Mambo-Tango, set off downstream carrying a crew of both of us, and also for a while Dr. Bresciani, Alfaro and Chávez who built the raft. They took us out into the middle of the river and left us to fend for ourselves. Read more ( javascript:void(0) )

    The Motorcycle Diaries: Notes on a Latin American Journey