El World Literature Today dedica este artículo a Las segundas criaturas, de Diego Cornejo Menacho
What
 is most striking about Diego Cornejo Menacho’s third novel is how his 
proliferating imagination frees just about every known narrative 
component into daring versions of what a novel can do. This is 
particularly positive since he builds fiction from metafiction, avoiding
 the typical traps of our abundantly solipsistic times. Cornejo’s 
inspired idea is to write an apocryphal and blatantly partial biography 
by defictionalizing “Marcelo Chiriboga,” purportedly an overlooked 
Ecuadorian Boom writer who kept appearing, Zelig-like, in novels and 
nonfiction by the real Boom writers José Donoso and Carlos Fuentes.
Las segundas criaturas, one of 
the best novels of its type of the last thirty years, is superior to 
what Fuentes and Donoso could have done with their misfiring yarn. The 
dominant point of view is a Catalan literary agent’s who, like Donoso’s 
in The Garden Next Door, is modeled on the Boom matriarch 
Carmen Balcells. Equally dominant is the refictionalized Jean Seberg, 
reclaimed from Fuentes’s Diana: The Goddess Who Hunts Alone. 
Cornejo’s version has her leave Fuentes for Chiriboga, unsettling the 
connections between this novel and its Boom palimpsest. Fictional and 
real characters and events appear at will, including other recent 
writers and novels. Chiriboga is by now an ex-ambassador in Rome and 
Paris, a Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres, a winner of the Cervantes 
Prize and others that Fuentes received and Donoso wanted. Translated 
widely, he lies dying.
That is the core narrative for a young 
Ecuadorian from the provinces who becomes successful outside of his 
small country, and from that premise Cornejo’s novel becomes more 
complex and ambitious. Hilarious and clever, Las segundas criaturas
 also reckons with the role of purportedly peripheral literatures in 
Latin American literary history, marketing and personal charm in 
canonicity, the intellectual follies of leftist commitment in the third 
quarter of the twentieth century, literary influence and/or 
appropriation, and ultimately the insecurity of novelists when faced 
with challenges like success, or even mundane obligations. Cornejo 
revisits those topics by showing Chiriboga’s great inability to 
reconcile his ambiguity, disorderly and imperfect nature, and by making 
his character’s origins opaque. This further complicates settling scores
 because the literary social contract will not stand for righteousness 
or reconciling inconsistencies.
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