Ariel Dorfman

Jan 16, 2025 | lithub.com | Ariel Dorfman

It was in a trattoria on the Piazza Navona in early April of 1974 that for the first but not the last time I heard Gabriel García Márquez refuse to even contemplate turning his masterpiece, Cien Aňos de Soledad, into a film. Gabo—as his friends called him—was in Rome as one of the vice-presidents of the Second Russell Tribunal convened to denounce human rights violations in Latin America, so the conversation that evening was basically political.

Jan 6, 2025 | nytimes.com | Ariel Dorfman

So it had been Claudio, and not me, who had been alerted on that Tuesday dawn that the military was seizing power, Claudio who had resisted as the building was being demolished by tanks and bombs, Claudio who had been captured by troops and then tortured and executed, Claudio whose body had been disposed of anonymously, never returned to his family for burial. Those images haunted me during the interminable years of exile and through my many returns to dictatorial Chile.

Jul 27, 2024 | otraeconomia.com.ar | Ariel Dorfman

Se cumplen pocas semanas de la nueva alegría que nos dio la Selección Argentina de fútbol masculino: la Copa América en EEUU. Sentimos una felicidad similar al Mundial de fútbol masculino de 2022 cuando se sumó una tercera estrella en el escudo. Sin dudas, la Scaloneta se transformó en una nueva fuente de alegría para el pueblo futbolero.

Jul 10, 2024 | smirkingchimp.com | Ariel Dorfman

— from TomDispatch At least I had the courage to do the deed myself. That counts for something here on the other side of death, where I wait for you, Clarence Thomas, and your sharp-toothed wife Ginni, and someday the others whose decrees and rulings from afar have aided and abetted the mayhem and the massacres. Cowards all of you, and boring and petty to boot, at such a safe distance from the volleys, the salvos, the gunfire.

Jul 9, 2024 | commondreams.org | Ariel Dorfman

At least I had the courage to do the deed myself. That counts for something here on the other side of death, where I wait for you, Clarence Thomas, and your sharp-toothed wife Ginni, and someday the others whose decrees and rulings from afar have aided and abetted the mayhem and the massacres. Cowards all of you, and boring and petty to boot, at such a safe distance from the volleys, the salvos, the gunfire.