For most part of this book I felt like I was taking a stroll on a beautiful sunlit morning in a quiet road that has trees on bothsides. A scene out of a postcard. The 18 year old Mario’s unusual adventures and his witty descriptions were a lot of fun to read. I hope the ‘scriptwriter’ in the title refers to Pedro Camacho and not Mario himself. I racked my brain to remember any character similar to Pedro Camacho I have read or seen. Nope, not one. Apart from his interesting character quirks like not giving a damn about anything else but his work, hating Argentine people or thinking that a man in his 50s is in his ‘prime of life’, the soaps he writes would make anyone want to listen to the radio in the middle of the day. Just like the Peruvian old ladies, I eagerly waited for the stories he wrote (that became every other chapter in the book).
But towards the end of the book, the sun overhead scorched and irritated and suddenly disappeared altogether. The book became dark and cold and I wanted to get over with it. I did not know that the book was based on the author’s own story. That de-romanticized the book to a significant amount because I realized I had been reading about a regular 18 year old superimposed by a roughly 46 year old seasoned writer’s thoughts.
On the other hand, I would just love it if Pedro Camacho had really existed.