In this review of the latest hagiography of the undead comandante, My Life, reviewer George Walden does an excellent and comical job of exposing the author, Ignacio Ramonet, for the fraud that he is. As editor of France’s Le Monde Diplomatique, Ramonet has never hidden his love and affection for the murderous Cuban dictator.
Only a few passages of interest would be lost by not reading this book, a course I would generally recommend. These concern Fidel’s youth (gilded, naturally); the early guerrilla attacks on the Batista regime (embroidered, almost certainly); his genuinely bitter reflections on his abandonment by his Russian financiers when they devolved responsibility for the Communist future to himself and North Korea; and his gently insistent disparagement of Che Guevara.
So this book (for lack of a better term) will now join the ranks of the countless other revisionist histories of the thugs and killers that have been responsible for so much pain and suffering in Cuba. They must figure that if they publish enough lies, they will eventually become true.
Ramonet, and the collaborators like him, can write all they want: Cubans will not forget the terror they have lived through for the past 48 years, and neither will they forget the collaborators that enabled and aided that terror. There is not enough soap in the universe to wash away their crimes.