The last painting Hache posted was on April 12. The painting was titled “Le poulain dans l’enclos” (Anto Carte, 1934). But why this painting? Anto Carte was an expressionist painter from Belgium whose work was sometimes compared to the work of his friend Gustave van de Woestyn. Carte was a Neo-realist whose paintings were largely symbolic in nature. Was Hache trying to tell us something with this post? Something about the world that was to emerge from the darkness of the COVID pandemic? Or in spite of that darkness? These questions and thoughts might seem silly and random, but for me, Hache’s posts, especially those of paintings, always made me stop and think and wonder and speculate.
I will miss that.
On February 17, Hache posted: “Don’t live the same year 75 times and call it a life” (Robin Sharma).
That strikes me as a mantra for how Hache lived his life. He lived in so many places and embraced so many people and new ideas that he surely lived as much in each year as most people live in a lifetime.
On February 15, Hache posted a review of a little-known Peruvian novel titled Woman of the Old Roads. That review begins with this sentence: “I take great pleasure in reading the books of little-known authors and providing whatever spotlight I can on their work.”
That sentiment captures the essence of Hache’s approach to literature, to books, to all art, but especially to other writers. Hache cared deeply about other writers.
I came to know Hache because he cared so deeply. In 2015 I asked him if he would read a novel that was going to be published in 2016. That novel was titled The Mad Patagonian. I was the author, but I was presenting it to the world under the pseudonym Javier Pedro Zabala. Hache knew of this, he knew of the subterfuge, and he was excited to read the book. After he had finished, I asked him if would write a blurb for the cover, and he said yes. Here is what he wrote:
“Epic in proportion, capaciously endless in breadth and depth, The Mad Patagonian submerges its reader into seemingly bottomless seas of Cuban history, mythology, and chismes that surface as a rollicking, evocative, glistening, incomparable and peerless novel.”
It was an astonishing blurb. That my novel, The Mad Patagonian, would receive such high praise from H. G. Carrillo, the author of Loosing My Espanish, was beyond my wildest dreams. I cannot adequately describe the effect Hache’s words had on me other than to say I suddenly felt invincible. But that is how Hache was with other writers, with all writers. He had that effect on them. He wanted to engage them in a discussion of books, their books, his books, all books, and he did so in such a way as to make them feel empowered, invincible. I cannot thank Hache enough for that, for his response to my work, to me.
That was the beginning of my friendship with Hache. Two years later, in 2017, I asked Hache to become a member of the River Boat Books Advisory Board. I am the publisher of River Boat Books and I was actively working to expand my press, expand the number of writers I published, and I needed an Advisory Board. I wanted Hache to be a part of my Board.
So I asked him, and again he said yes. And again, I was emotionally overwhelmed by the magnitude of his response. That River Boat Books would have as a member of their Advisory Board the great writer H. G. Carrillo was beyond my wildest hopes.
So 2017 was another beginning. And it has taken me three years to expand my press and publish more writers, and as a member of our Board, Hache has been a part of that growth process.
And now he is gone, so suddenly I am gasping for breath.
What began in 2015, and then began again in 2017, is now over in 2020.
I cannot quite comprehend this, the why of it, and I certainly do not accept what has happened, even though I fully understand the what, that Hache Carrillo, a friend who took an interest in me not only as a writer, but as a person, has died. But I will continue to carry with me the memory of Hache, and the generosity of his spirit, which he shared with me, and in an attempt to keep this spirit alive, at least so far as I can as the publisher of River Boat Books, I am going to create the H. G. Carrillo Literary Prize for Fiction.
This will be an award inspired by all that was Hache, and we will give it to one book every year, a new book that we will publish that embodies something of Hache in its pages.
I do not yet have all of the details of this award. It will include some kind of prize money. And as River Boat Books grows, the prize will grow. That’s all I can say at the moment. I am conceiving of it as I write this.
But I will say here and now that whatever comes my way, I will honor the generosity which Hache showed me by showing that same generosity towards the writers I meet as we all journey into the future. It is just one small way to honor the memory of my friend.
I will miss you Hache!
Peter Damian Bellis