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104 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
Some months later, in Mr. Taylor’s country, the heads had gained the popularity we all remember. At first they were the privilege of the wealthiest families, but democracy is democracy, and no one will deny that in a matter of weeks even schoolteachers could buy them.
A home without its shrunken head was deemed a home that had failed.
My God, where did they find so many things to write about? Soon there’d be no more room for books in the house. But even if you couldn’t read them all, they were the best legacy.
Leopoldo was a meticulous writer who showed himself no mercy. From the age of seventeen he had devoted all his time to literature. His thoughts were fixed on literature the entire day. His mind worked with intensity, and he never allowed himself to succumb to sleep before ten thirty at night. Leopoldo, however, suffered from one defect: He did not like to write.
There are three themes: love, death, and flies. For as long as man has existed, this emotion, this fear, these presences have always been with him. Let others deal with the first two. I concern myself with flies, who are better than men, but not women.
When he awoke, the dinosaur was still there.
“Desdeñaba tanto la gloria que, generalmente, ni siquiera terminaba sus obras. Había veces, incluso, en que ni se tomaba el trabajo de comenzarlas.”Sí, ya desde el propio título, encontrarán muchos ejemplos de su humor en estos relatos, siempre revuelto con la seriedad, aunque nunca con la gravedad, algo que no se permitía el autor. Pero también habrá momentos en los que se estremecerán, como ante la presencia de ese padre amantísimo que si no fuera porque era su hija confesaría su odio hacia ella, o la de ese pobre gigante que, por lo que los envidiaba, soñaba que era un enano que no llegaba a las aldabones de las puertas, o esa pobre señora que ante un auditorio estupefacto dio rienda suelta a sus patéticas congojas, o con ese literato erudito al que no le salva de su miserable comportamiento la tortura en la que ha vivido desde aquel verso que nunca se atrevió a decir.

"Cuando despertó, el dinosaurio todavía estaba allí"
This collection presents Monterroso at his full range, from ironically sublime to abruptly colloquial. There are endless elliptical asides, recondite images, thematic innovations, meta textual games, and exploits with time and space, all heightened by the energy with which his language is imbued.
—from the Introduction by Will H. Corral
The fly that perched on your nose today is a direct descendant of the one that landed on Cleopatra’s.