A Novel Yet to Be Written: On Reading Núñez de Balboa
People are trapped in history, and history is trapped in them.
James Baldwin
Howard Nemerov
A letter by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez—the renowned twentieth century Spanish writer—constitutes the prologue to Octavio Méndez Pereira’s novel, Núñez de Balboa. Blasco Ibáñez is the author of Tirano Banderas, the first novel about the threat dictatorships pose in Latin America, and of Los cuatro jinetes del Apocalipsis (The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse)—the latter entered cinematic history as the first Spanish-language work of fiction to make it onto the silver screen. (The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse also helped make Rudolph Valentino a silent film legend.)
In the letter, Blasco Ibáñez reminisces about a visit to Panamá when, during an afternoon outing with the illustrious educator, Octavio Méndez Pereira, he visited the ruins of Panamá Viejo, the original site of the nation’s capital, destroyed by the Welsh pirate Henry Morgan in 1671. According to Blasco Ibáñez’s letter, the stories Méndez Pereira told him, the hauntingly beautiful tropical sunset, and the ghosts of Spanish colonizers walking among the vestiges of Panamá’s former capital inspired him to ask the Panamanian to collaborate in writing a novel about the city’s early annihilation. Blasco Ibáñez’s plan was for Méndez Pereira, a genuine scholar, to conduct the research, and then he, the imaginative writer, would take that information and turn it into a novel.
But the project was destined to never get off the ground. Shortly after his return to
After years of arduous labor, Octavio Méndez Pereira published, in
Núñez de Balboa is a noble effort at narrating—as “fiction”—the complex, yet fascinating, tale of this Spanish explorer. But if I am to give my honest assessment, Méndez Pereira, although a remarkable scholar, was not equipped to be a novelist.
The Panamanian’s scholarly background frequently intrudes in his attempt to write historical fiction. As a result, the narrative tug of war between writing a novel and the author’s natural inclination toward writing an academic biography weighs the work down. Ultimately, and without a doubt because of this, Méndez Pereira produced an unsuccessful literary hybrid, and only those readers passionately interested in the Spanish explorer’s life will find the book enjoyable. What’s more, Octavio Méndez Pereira’s indecisiveness with regard to his choice of genre is clearly reflected in the different titles he gave this work, all of which appear either on the cover or in the opening pages: Núñez de Balboa; Vasco Núñez de Balboa; or El tesoro de Daibaibe. Take your pick.
Still, in spite of the work’s shortcomings, if one thinks back to Vicente Blasco Ibáñez and Octavio Méndez Pereira’s collaborative dream—the investigative origins of this “novel”—Núñez de Balboa does provide the groundwork for any contemporary author who may be interested in taking the Panamanian’s effort one step further: to write an accomplished work of fiction about Vasco Núñez de Balboa’s life. The explorer’s deeds, as well as his misdeeds, are, after all, most worthy of the effort.
When seen through this lens, then, Octavio Méndez Pereira’s contribution to Panamanian literature stands proudly as a novel yet to be written.





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