Don’t ask me when and how Héctor Belascoarán Shayne came back to life. I don’t have an answer. I remember that on the last page of No Happy Ending rain was falling over his perforated body.
His appearance in these pages is therefore an act of magic. White magic perhaps, but magic that is irrational and disrespectful toward the occupation of writing a mystery series.
The magic is not entirely my fault. Appeal to the cultural traditions of a country whose history teems with resurrections. Here Dracula returned, El Santo returned (in the film version), even Demetrio Vallejo returned from prison, Benito Juárez returned from Paso del Norte…This particular resurrection gestated a couple of years ago in the city of Zacatecas, when the audience of a conference demanded that Belascoarán come back to life almost (minus one vote) unanimously. From then on, that event would repeat itself several more times before various audiences in different cities, and the voting was accompanied by a long series of letters. It seemed that the character had not found an ending to the liking of his readers, and the author thought there were a few stories left to be told in the Belascoaránian saga. And thus was born this novel, which if it has any virtue, it is because it was written with even more doubts than the previous ones. So let the readers from Zacatecas who attended that conference be as responsible as I am for Héctor’s return.
I have no better explanation.
As always, it must be said that the story told here belongs to the terrain of absolute fiction, although Mexico is the same and belongs to the terrain of surprising reality.
It would have to be added that for narrative reasons, real times have been slightly rearranged, uniting the student protests of early ’87 with the ascent of the Cuauhtémoc Cárdenas campaign of the spring of ’88 in a fictional time that could be situated around the end of 1987.
Mexico City, 1987—88—89