one day the Peruvian might write pages of revolting propaganda and the next day an almost illegible essay on Octavio Paz full of flattery and praise of the Mexican poet. For a Maoist, that showed a certain lack of seriousness. It wasn’t consistent. Actually, the Peruvian had always been hopeless as an essayist, it didn’t matter if he was playing spokesman of the dispossessed or extolling Paz’s poetry.
