I Am A Literary Animal. For Me,

Like All Of Latin America, Mexico After Independence In 1821 Turned Its Back On A Triple Heritage: On The Spanish Heritage, Because We Were Newly Liberated Colonies, And On Our Indian And Black Heritages, Because We Considered Them Backward And Barbaric. We Looked Towards France, England And The U.s., To Become Progressive Democratic Republics.

The Great Wheel Of Fire Of Ancient Wisdom, Silence And Word Engendering The Myth Of The Origin, Human Action Engendering The Epic Voyage Toward The Other; Historical Violence Revealing The Tragic Flaw Of The Hero Who Must Then Return To The Land Of Origin; Myth Of Death And Renewal And Silence From Which New Words And Images Will Arise, Keeps On Turning In Spite Of The Blindness Of Purely Lineal Thought.

I’ve Been Thrashed By The Critics. I Love Having Critics For Breakfast. I’ve Been Having Them For 30 Years In Mexico - Just Eating Them Like Chicken And Then Throwing The Bones Away. They Have Not Survived, I Have!

In A World Torn By Every Kind Of Fundamentalism - Religious, Ethnic, Nationalist And Tribal - We Must Grant First Place To Economic Fundamentalism, With Its Religious Conviction That The Market, Left To Its Own Devices, Is Capable Of Resolving All Our Problems. This Faith Has Its Own Ayatollahs. Its Church Is Neo-liberalism; Its Creed Is Profit; Its Prayers Are For Monopolies.

I Live Through Risk. Without Risk There Is No Art. You Should Always Be On The Edge Of A Cliff About To Fall Down And Break Your Neck.