Questions answered

Gran Hotel del Paraguay
Asunción
Paraguay

Dear Reader,

At the Tomb of the Inflatable Pig ought to reach you with a small bribe - a crate of Kalashnikovs perhaps, a BMW, tickets for The Chippendales or some other little teaser. In Paraguay, where the events of this book took place, a little well-directed corruption is so effective at catching the eye …

In fact, it's interesting to think that a few copies of The Pig will even make the long voyage back to Asunción, in the heart of South America. Only about a thousand Paraguayans will know what to do with it - the other 5 million find books either beyond their range of experience or just plain pointless. Those that do read it will be horrified by the bits that make people back in the UK laugh. For the Paraguayans, it's no laughing matter that their most admired politician is a dwarf in a woman's wig - or that Asunción's main square is dominated by a giant bronze frog. On the other hand, those bits that are bound to horrify (the bloodiest war in the history of mankind, cannibalism and the murderous piranhas) will elicit little more than a shrug. "That's the way it is," they'll say.

People often ask me how I first became involved with this mysterious and yet oddly-enchanting country. It's simple: at the age of eighteen, I had to abandon my travels in Argentina due to the Falklands War, and I jumped across the border. I was immediately entranced by this country of pink palaces and orange blossom and by a people who spoke a language like birdsong. In those days they were run by General Stroessner, a German who threw his opponents out of aeroplanes or who had them ties up in barbed wire and dumped in the river. Even this intrigued me and I went to his palace (in my school blazer) and asked to see him. The visit did not go quite as planned and, in retrospect, I suppose it was merely a foretaste of the surprises yet to come.

I hope The Pig will amuse, puzzle and thrill you as much as Paraguay has done me over the last twenty years. If, after the experience of this book, you're tempted to go there, don't forget the Deet, a copy of Nostromo, a dozen Princess Diana postcards and a kilt for the Caledonian Ball.

Best wishes

 

John Gimlette