“One of the bravest writers in Latin America, if not in the world. Also one of the best.”

“He deserves praise not only for his effort and for what he writes, but because he writes marvelously well”

“The most extreme experiences that Truman Capote had throughout his entire life are a delicate waltz next to a mere weekend doing the job of journalist Óscar Martínez.”

“The novelty is not in the issues of this book. The novelty is in the investigative tenacity, in the search for deep truth and risk, in the competent management of different planes of the intimidating and impenetrable narrative world, and, without a doubt, in the usage of the revulsive power words in service of the values without which neither the human being nor life itself would have meaning.”

“I’ve never read a book like the latest one by [Óscar Martínez]. A mixture of memoir and essay about journalism, a furious scream against corruption and violence. A masterpiece.”

“The book is a harsh testimony by someone who has known the darkest corners of the human condition. The author stands in the face of barbarism, his feet firmly planted on the ground of experience, and looks it straight in the face. Óscar Martínez’s encounter with these ghosts is not comforting, nor does it leave much room for hope. It also doesn’t give us many answers. But at least it shakes and confronts us: he forces us to hope that one day, sooner or later, things may change. And that is already something that only the best journalism can do.”

“Óscar Martínez has spent over a decade covering migration and forced displacement in Central America. He has done it as a reporter at the Salvadorian digital newspaper El Faro and has written long journalistic pieces following stories and testimonies like he did in ‘El niño de Hollywood,’ where he explains gangs through the story of one of their hitmen. He has been covering these stories for almost thirteen years. He knows the violence of Mara Salvatrucha, and of the police, firsthand. He has enough experience to know some things for certain. That’s why he has written about them in ‘Los muertos y el periodista,’ an essay-chronicle recently published by Anagrama in which Martínez reflects on journalism and the reach of the profession. ‘Does journalism change lives?’ the journalist asks himself. ‘Yes, journalism changes lives. It changes some of them categorically. After the appearance of journalists, some lives are never the same. They’re worse,’ he confesses.

Throughout the book, Óscar Martínez threads together journalism with the death of three of his sources: Rudi, a young gang member (‘today I met a young man who will be murdered,’ wrote Martínez in his journal that day) and his two brothers. To him, the boy’s death was only a matter of time, but not that of his brothers’. And right at that doubt is where an essay begins, an essay whose greatest attribute is journalism. On more than one occasion, the text functions as a chronicle—it’s driven by the necessity to wring words out before they dry up and harden with the passing of time. The relationship between lived experiences and lessons learned offers a viewpoint without self-indulgence or poses. After spending years going through Nicaragua, El Salvador, Honduras, Mexico, and Guatemala, Óscar Martínez knows one thing for sure: if he hadn’t appeared in their lives, if he hadn’t wanted to know more, would those people still be alive? What has this left behind inside him? Has it left anything? Did he have to do it? ‘This isn’t a book that tries to explain a gang or a country, but rather general human traits and a job done in the modern abyss,’ he writes.”

“Even for those of us who’ve marveled at Óscar Martínez’s work for years, his new book is a revelation. Equal parts memoir, journalism masterclass, and howl of rage, Los muertos y el periodista is moving, brave, and unlike anything I’ve ever read. There is no voice more vital in latin American Journalism than Óscar Martínez.”

“The privilege is being able to read [this book]. The privilege is being able to know these stories. See the connections between them. The interpretations. The understanding. The privilege is the fact that the witness telling this story is alive and inside the wound—scrutinizing it, observing it, and telling you the anatomy of violence, the anatomy of shame, the formology of inequality. (...) Above all else, Óscar Martínez is a witness who is clearly committed to his job: journalism. (...) Aside from a wild story, this book is a Monument to Journalism.”