The Writer of Epitaphs

Hernán Rivera Letelier


"They call him the Writer of Epitaphs, but really he's an angel. A café angel. He lives a quiet life under the canopy of his favourite café, at least it was quiet until the afternoon he first saw the Goth girl pass by, the girl who would ruin his life forever; beautiful and delicate as her black lace, fingerless gloves."

‘Angels with wings don't exist,' explains the Writer of Epitaphs, ‘if they did they'd need enormous muscles and wouldn't have the grace or levity with which they're depicted.' For him, angels are transfigured human beings and can be recognised because they're irresponsible like birds, lucid as stars, lovers of clouds and hunters of shadows. The angel in this story (whom we shall call the Writer of Epitaphs) spends his days in the café watching the people and clouds pass by, until the day the Goth girl appears; a feline angel who talks to him about night and death and his fall from grace begins.

In this subtle, luminous novel, Hernán Rivera Letelier restores the café to its emblematic place in literature.    


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