I wanted to read this book so badly, mainly because I wanted to read about Che. He is such a popular icon and you see so many people wearing t-shirts with his image on them etc. I knew very little about him and that was the main reason for picking up this book. I would say I read more from Wikipedia, than from the book. I would open Wikipedia to read more about the cities mentioned in the book. I also read stuff about Fiedel Castro and few more people mentioned in the book. Apart from Che's personal life, this book was interesting to read in many aspects. Machu Picchu, which is now one of the wonders of the world, has been explained very well by Che in the book. He also speaks about Inca empire, its decline and Spanish invasion.
What really impressed me in the book were his thoughts about everything-
1. Owner made a person carry their luggage walking while these people were riding horses. Che pitied for that guy and took back the luggage from that guy.
2. His compassion towards the mine workers who have to work in such horrible conditions, in return for such poor wages.
3. Communist couple to whom Che and Alberto lend their blanket, even though they themselves were shivering from cold.
4. The way he feels compassion for all those leprosy patients and makes sure they feel 'human' again, like playing football with them, touching their hands. I am not sure how many people would have actually done that.
5. I like the way they get free food and drinks during the trip. Che's idea of telling they always eat while drinking :)

I feel sad for the Indians(native Americans). He describes third class in the train by saying it used to stink more than the coach used to transport animals in Argentina.

"But the people before us are not the same proud race that repeatedly rose up against Inca rule... These people who watch us walk through the streets of the town are a defeated race".

"... To die hoping that one of their children, thanks to miracle powers of a drop of colonising blood in their veins, might somehow achieve the goal they look forward to until their last days"
Che's thoughts along with their travel anecdotes made it a great read.

Updated:
Movie was good. I especially loved those beautiful locations (Machu Picchu). But still book was better.

3.5/5

n  It is in cases like this, when a doctor knows he is powerless in such circumstances, that he longs for change[.]n

I watched the movie for this some time ago and was likely drawn to it back then for it being a foreign/non-Anglo film available on Netflix that discoursed on the rather intriguing concept of a bildungsroman pilgrimage (although I hardly mentally used those words to describe such) than for any recognition of the memoirist's near mythical status in history. I've learned a lot more Ernesto 'Che' Guevara since then, but not enough to be noticeably awestruck or energized by revelation while reading this. The selling terms of 'Das Kapital' and 'Easy Rider' mean little to me beyond the faintest socialist conjurations, and the back cover does this work no favors in comparing it to the writings of Kerouac. Despite all that, this was a welcome refresher course on the geography of South America and provides a much more holistic background to the image sets of Machu Picchu that cross my dash every once in a while, rightly pointed out as a site of particularly obnoxious of blinkered US tourism. It's not as "ideological" as some likely would accuse it to be, and while some things have definitely changed (the reference to Allende and the Chile Communist Party send chills down my spine), a lot of things definitely haven't, so if someone finishes this thinking that it's unacceptable that there are more empty houses than homeless people in their country, as there is in mine, and wants to do something about it: good on them.

n  Wasn't he in fact a typical product of an education which damages the person who is granted it as a favour to demonstrate the magic power of that precious 'drop of blood', even if it came from some poor mestizo woman sold to a local cacique or was the result of an [indigenous] maid's rape by her drunken Spanish master?n

The first chunk of this work was the most familiar to me, the concrete existence of the titular motorcycle stirring my admittedly faint memories of that long ago film. As the countries progressed and the motorcycle eventually broke down into utter refuse, I found myself in stranger territory, and it would be interesting to search up the movie again (if it's still available after years of Netflix's monthly cullings) and do some cross comparisons while this text is still fresh in my mind. I certainly learned a lot, and I have a new appreciation for the preservation work indigenous people/mestizos/mestizas were doing back then when Guevara visited them, work that is hopefully being continued today alongside more political forms of sustenance. Cuzco/Cusco in Peru sounds absolutely fascinating (not just for my ridiculously digressional memories of a particular animated film), and if I ever became the traveling type, this would be a place on the itinerary to visit in ideally as non-bumbling white US tourist a manner as possible. I also got a glimpse of the political/infrastructural development of various countries (Columbia, Venezuela) that would eventually lead to the much written about late 20th century and today's fear mongering within the borders of the US settler state. All in all, not an especially thought provoking text when it comes to the author's burgeoning revolutionist tendencies, but the kernels of the future were there, and the ending was triumphant (if a little dangerously reductionist) enough to make for a well structured text that doesn't patronize (much, the antiblackness at the end showed Guevara's Eurocentricity rather glaringly) that gives one much needed perspective on one of the most visible figureheads of the late 20th century.

n  Revolution is impersonal, so it will take their lives and even use their memory as an example or as an instrument to control the young people coming after them.n

The world doesn't at first look seem to have as many Che Guevara's running around these days, but that might just be a side effect of the multiplicity of hyper awareness where so many are known and rises to power/rags to riches narrators have become both more frequent and more policed by the interconnected Powers That Be. The CIA spurred on many of the collapses of Latin American solvency that Guevara lived to witness, and it would be foolish to assume anything has changed when the US military still gouges out the ripest portion of the country's taxes. Arab Spring and Occupy have come and gone (in the media headlines at any rate), and it is easy to think that that's that and all that's left to do is put our nose to the grindstone and lick. I haven't been keeping up with the rest of the Americas as much, but I'd like to think that there are Che Guevara aspirationists who have come farther than their idol could have ever gone in terms of true compassion for human beings, regardless of category. The stage is less dramatic than Guevara's way back then, but that is no reason to believe that there isn't valuable work being done, or that there is nothing we can do to help.

n  People like you ask me lots of technical questions but I'm rarely asked how many lives it has cost.n

A Jack Kerouac but with compassion.

“After graduation, due to special circumstances and perhaps also to my character, I began to travel throughout America, and I became acquainted with all of it. Except for Haiti and Santo Domingo, I have visited, to some extent, all the other Latin American countries. Because of the circumstances in which I traveled, first as a student and later as a doctor, I came into close contact with poverty, hunger and disease; with the inability to treat a child because of lack of money; with the stupefaction provoked by the continual hunger and punishment, to the point that a father can accept the loss of a son as an unimportant accident, as occurs often in the downtrodden classes of our American homeland. And I began to realize at that time that there were things that were almost as important to me as becoming famous for making a significant contribution to medical science: I wanted to help those people.”

“Above all, always be capable of feeling deeply any injustice committed against anyone, anywhere in the world.”

Whether fighting as he did was the right way to make changes in the world or not, I don’t know. I do know that people seldom, if ever, give up their power over others easily, and I know for all that he had done, things have not changed much. Still Che Guevara has been a hero of mine, as he has been to many others around the world. For me, it is because he cared enough.

The quotes I gave above aren't even in this book, but they show you the beginnings of a revolutionist. When you read about his travels in this book between the pages of excitement over all that he experienced, you find comments about the poverty and the lack of medical care that exist in those countries. I felt that being a medical doctor wasn't enough for him.

"The future belongs to the people, and gradually, or in one strike, they will take power, here and in every country. The terrible thing is the people need to be educated, and this they cannot do before taking power, only after. They can only learn at the cost of their own mistakes, which will be very serious and will cost many innocent lives.”

“It is there, in the final moments, for people whose farthest horizon has always been tomorrow, that one comprehends the profound tragedy circumscribing the life of the proletariat the world over.”

“An accordion player who had no fingers on his right hand used little sticks tied to his wrist; the singer was blind; and almost all the others were horribly deformed, due to the nervous form of the disease very common in this area. With light from the lamps and the lanterns reflected in the river, it was like a scene from a horror movie. The place is lovely,”

And here is a quote to ponder on:

“I now know, by an almost fatalistic conformity with the facts, that my destiny is to travel, or perhaps it’s better to say that traveling is our destiny, because Alberto feels the same. Still, there are moments when I think with profound longing of those wonderful areas in our south. Perhaps one day, tired of circling the world, I’ll return to Argentina and settle in the Andean lakes, if not indefinitely then at least for a pause while I shift from one understanding of the world to another.”

His destiny wasn't to travel but to fight for human rights. He was killed by a firing squad on October 9, 1967 in Bolivia. HIs remains were found and removed to Cuba where he was given full military honors on October 17, 1997. His remains are now in the Che Guevara Mausoleum in Santa Clara, Cuba.

The Motorcycle Diaries

A little background on why I chose to read this. Very recently I was on vacation and the resort I was staying at, there was a tiny little library wherein lay a copy of The Motorcycle Diaries—I always wanted to read it however never got around to reading it—so, natural to me (also to any Goodreads member who sees a book) I picked it up and started reading it, however, I stopped as I was flying through the pages, then I thought to myself maybe I should read it at my leisure, so I ordered a copy from Amazon.

I received the copy—I think it was delivered on a weekday—and started reading it the moment I had an opportunity to.

It is a travelogue—originally a journal—so there’s a ton load of adventure hued with Che’s interminable and undying melancholic Marxist spirit narrating the journey and the encounters of surreal beauty as well as the almost inhabitable conditions coupled with tragic and ambitious tales of history and clash of civilizations and cultures—quite disquieting too. So, there is this juxtaposition of the reader being served with exotic descriptions of a magical world i.e. South America and on the other hand, the trials and tribulations of the continent’s inhabitants systemically subjected to filthy conditions—the inner rage that consistently surfaces on these indigenous peoples’ faces (a reaction to the historical bestial rage of a conquering rabble that insulted the indigenous’ achievements and burnt the place to the ground only to use it as a step to a set of imposing cathedrals) seem like cold sculpted faces only helps the reader to sympathize and then to understand the helplessness of these wronged souls and their misfortunes.

Che (onomatopoeic nickname for Argentines in South America) and his pal Alberto themselves are often subjected to harsh conditions by Mother Nature as well as by their fellow humans and their behavior or actions, and quite often find themselves in a pickle—one ordeal after another, ceaselessly: as if the word incessancy eventually finds its meaning.

Che has a unique voice and a refreshingly sarcastic tone or prose infused with bitter humor that keeps the reader engaged—it’s pretty rare or nonexistent to see anything uneventful going on in this self-inflicted penance-like journey they’ve embarked upon—so, I really liked his style.

The book ends with Che’s lecture to students on Revolution and the like, where you can see a dynamic and an unexpected shift from a 24-year-old adolescent’s voice to a successful revolutionary whose call for change is unabating and unremitting.

This is a book which everybody in their 20s need to read. At a time when everyone is trying to settle down into a career which would reap harvests eventually, where you dream of going on your dream trips eventually, where you would want to read that book or draw the painting or write the poem, eventually; we have a book about a 20 something who does it all. The story of Che before he became The Che, when he still is a rash youngster hot blooded and filled with hunger for adventure. In spite of which, he displays a caring philosophical mind of a legend in making. Filled with good servings of humour, in this travelogue, you take the place of Alberto Granado and travel across South America with Che. There are so many lines which will remain etched in one's memory forever, like his description of the terminally ill lady. Read this book, if you dream of travelling, if you had dreams of travelling. May bea towards the end of it you just might want to live the life Che Guevara did.

Che Guevara, a face we grew up to on t-shirts, walls of cafe, graffitis on wall , prints on bandanas etc. I used to think he is some kind of bob marley , a musician and a rebel.
But as i grew , i learnt he was only one of my beliefs, a rebel .
Rebellion is a human nature but to know its background motives and causes , one understands it was revolution they meant.

This book , short and brief yet it touches the nook and corner of che's intentions. The moment of revelation comes along this journey that latin america wasnt just about sick people and their diseases but the whole system was at failing with its deep rooted capitalism in sum with corruption. These diary entries gives us deep insight on che's emotions on witnessing injustice , his wonder about great history of the native indians, his curiosity about the places, his passion to help those in need, his humanity towards leprosy inflicted patients etc
It is book that consumes you and gives a vision to see the world through che's eyes. The reason that he turned up for violence and held guns . It does not justify yet makes it easier to know why he turned into a revolutuonaire.
A must read i suppose especially for the young ones who blindly wears a t-shirt with his face on it. Know him before you wear him.

n  "This is not a story of incredible heroism, or merely the narrative of a cynic; at least I do not mean it to be. It is a glimpse of two lives that ran parallel for a time, with similar hopes and convergent dreams."n

At times I mourn the inadequacy of the written word and how poor of an approximation it is of lived experiences. And yet reading transports you to places and into minds you could never have known otherwise, in any other way. As I closed this book with a sigh and put it aside, I felt strangely elated at having not only seen a little of that mysterious continent, which we call South America, but understood it, in its tragedy and promise. My fascination with the continent partly stems from the fact that I, too, come from a place having a colonial past, and understand how important culture is, especially when it dies and you are left with only a few architectural ruins to remember the glorious dynasties you were once a part of. Ernesto’s journey through Peru, his exploration of Cuzco along with those few pages dedicated to the reconstruction of Inca civilization perhaps were my favorites, for this reason. “The navel of the world”, the world of the Incas in the Peruvian mountains, the ancient civilization carved out in the heart of Machu Picchu, now hot tourist attractions, carry the blood of thousands of Indians—another group of humans who have been treated miserably by the world. It’s funny, the Eurocentricism that I find among my people, not sad but funny as I read through this book and realized that there are races and cultures and countries and forests and mountains worth dreaming of, about which we have such little interest, and absolutely no knowledge.

But I digress. Ernesto begins the most important part of his journey taking us through the “land of hospitality”, Chile, recounting several comic incidents involving never-ending barbecues, near escapades, to its deserts and its mines, the point where his narration takes on a kind of seriousness as he describes the living conditions of the miners and mourns the exploitation of those who give away their lives so cheaply, suffocating in the entrails of the world. It is at this stage of his journey that something hits him, something we all know that would ultimately and irrevocably change him into “Comandante Che”. But this book is not special merely because it is the future-Che who is writing it, but because of South America itself, and all the places Ernesto and Alberto journey through. Read it as a diary of an adventurer, and it will still be great!

As far as Che is concerned, well, what can I say. To say that the man fascinates me would be an understatement. But as much as I think I am in love with all the romanticism and idealism his name evokes, I have to admit that I cannot “know” him, nobody can, and what I think of him is what I want to believe of him. To think of Che as a man is too depressing, but to think of him as a mythic legend, a hero of some folktale is something I can live with better.

n  “The person who wrote these notes passed away the moment his feet touched Argentine soil. The person who reorganizes and polishes them, me, is no longer, at least I’m not the person I once was. All this wandering around “Our America with a capital A” has changed me more than I thought.”n

Ernesto, on the other hand, the young Argentine who went on this journey, is someone else. As Aleida writes in her beautiful preface, I am in love with the boy her father had been, and I envy his spirit which took him to journeys I can only dream of. His narration is full of pathos and sympathy, but sometimes has the coldness of pure scientific inquiry. But then again, his romanticism comes in full force and the prose becomes lyrical, poetic, even slightly excessive. Anyway, these notes read smoothly, and the discordance you might find is forgivable, considering the fact that their writer wasn't exactly a prose stylist.

P.S. I think the movie was quite brilliant. I am a fan of Bernal and it was through browsing his filmography that I came to know of this book. They did a pretty fantastic job of making a linear, cohesive, beautiful story out of these notes, some of which are quite hurried. If you like, do watch the movie, but only if you vouch to read the book, as well. There is something the movie doesn't give you, and that is the narrative, the inner dialogue which accompanied Ernesto as he traveled silently through South America. If the movie gives you scenery, the book gives you the right perspective to see it. And, my God, what a perspective!

n  “My eyes traced the immense vault of heaven; the starry sky twinkled happily above me, as if answering in the affirmative to the question rising deep within me: “Is all of this worth it?”n

I think the reason this book sells is solely because its author, not for any merits of the book itself. If this were not Che's memoirs, I believe the book would have vanished without a trace from the memory of all mankind.

هذا الكتاب يسرد وقائع رحلة قام بها ارنستو (تشى) جيفارا مع صديقه ألبرتو جرينادو على ظهر دراجة نارية عبر أمريكا اللاتينية بدءاً من مدينتهما -قرطبة- بالأرجنتين و ذلك فى عام 1951/1952, و كان عمره وقتها 24 سنة و لا يزال فى السنة النهائية فى كلية الطب.
من خلال السرد نرى بعينى جيفارا صورة لأمريكا اللاتينية فى هذا العصر, و إذا اعتبرنا أن هذا الكتاب من أدب الرحلات فبذلك سنبخسه حقه....فبأمكان أى منا أن يزور نفس الأماكن و نخرج بوصف قريب لها..أما البشر, فيعتمد هذا على إحساسك بهم....و لابد أنك ستتخيل ما هى نظرة جيفارا للكثير من المرضى و الفقراء و المقهورين الذين قابلهم فى عدة دول بأمريكا اللاتينية.
عندما تجد أن الرجل قد كتب ما كتب و هو فى الرابعة و العشرين من عمره ستعلم أن الرجل كان متسقاً مع نفسه...إنه نفس المناضل الذى عرفناه بعد هذا التاريخ ب10 سنين كأحد أبرز قادة الثورة الكوبية..و أحد المناضلين ضد الإمبريالية فى العالم الثالث و خصوصاً أمريكا اللاتينية بطبيعة الحال.
و إهتمامه الإنسانى المبكر بالعمال و طبقة البروليتاريا الكادحة , و كذلك تعامله مع مرضى الجذام بالصورة التى وصفها فى الكتاب يؤكد لنا مدى إتساقه مع نفسه كما ذكرنا.
بحكم السن تبدو شقاوة الشباب واضحة فى سطور الكتاب و طريقة الوصف و المغامرات..لكن مع هذا تبدو ثقافة جيفارا....و لكم أعجبتنى بعض التعبيرات التى استخدمها - و كانت جديدة على - مثل قوله (أكلنا السمكة متبلة ببهارات جوعنا)..و هو مثل المثل القائل (الجوع أحسن طباخ) لأنك فى حال جوعك سيكون همك هو أن تملأ بطنك و يأتى الطعم فى مرحلة متأخرة من الأولويات..و انت مو انت و انت جعان :)))
استوقفنى فى بداية عرضه للكتاب قوله:(أن الرجل الذى كتب هذه اليوميات توفى لحظة لمست قدماه تراب الأرجنتين...لأن السفر و ما رآه فى (أمريكتنا)قد غيرنى أكثر مما حسبت) .
و كذلك استوقفنى الحوار فى نهاية الكتاب مع الرجل الذى قابله فى فنزويلا و كأنه يتنبأ له بدوره المرسوم فى النضال.
و أتشوق لقراءة ما كتبه عن يوميات الثورة...إذا وجدته

I have always been intrigued by this charismatic, utterly good-looking, athletic man who was instrumental to the toppling of the Cuban government, and who is now largely forgotten, remembered only as a mythological figure in legends about faraway lands. Suddenly this May, I chanced upon a biography of his in a book fair and grabbed it. At that time, I’d only heard of his name. I knew he was some kind of revolutionary. But nothing had prepared me for what was to come. The biography tormented me for weeks on end, and I spent days thinking about him. It was traumatic for me. And it wasn’t as if I was over-sensitive to accounts of extreme violence, bloodshed or revolutions, or a sentimental, weepy girl. But I was not prepared to meet a man so deeply committed to the cause, without bothering which country he was fighting for.

It was enigmatic for me how Guevara, born into an affluent family, immensely good-looking, lively, easy-going, friendly and with a prosperous future earmarked for him, would later become one of the most determined, daring and charismatic guerilla leaders. Here was a compassionate man not only outraged by political, social and economic injustice, but also one who transcended nationalistic barriers, the roots of which were, undoubtedly, sown in his travels through Latin America. An Argentine who fought for Cuba, and then, instead of resting on his laurels for the rest of his life, went off to fight in Congo, coming to his end in yet another warfare in Bolivia.

So now I didn’t lose the chance to read this little book. I did not find it particularly useful in any way. I’d looked for insights, but I didn’t get any (that I hadn’t already gained). It did not entertain too well. It wasn’t sloppy or anything, but it wasn’t as extraordinary as I’d expected. Of course, I’d wanted some new revelation about his motorcycle tour through Latin America. In that sense, I was disappointed. But then, it was about Guevara, and I eagerly lapped up every little detail I could, like a star-struck fan clamoring for every single gossip about her favorite celebrity.

What I clearly liked about the diary is that it was humorous and light-hearted in tone, but not flippant. Che’s compassion showed through in his reflections on poverty and his accounts of indigenous people, his awareness of the richness of a Latin American culture, which, though distinct in every country, was, as he realized very soon, still bonded with each other through a common tradition and race. The historical bits thrown in with his account were quite interesting, and whetted my appetite for Latin America, which Allende's "Daughter of Fortune" and Neruda had already aroused some years ago.

By itself, it is little more than disjointed, hasty vignettes of their journey (in 1951-’52 with his friend Alberto Granado on a motorcycle they called La Poderosa II/The Mighty One), punctuated by humor, amusement and compassion – despite the lightness of the prose, which is, in fact, quite charming in many places, it is of little value in isolation. It is obvious it was a personal diary, not intended to be published. Without Che being who he was, these serve as nothing more than a light-hearted, one-time read. Its appeal lies in the fact that this was one of those times that struck a deep root in Che’s mind, which was later to prove crucial in making him what he was. It was one of those little, seemingly unimportant incidents that shaped his already conscientious nature. It was not a turning point – rather, it was one of the slight turns that happen in degrees, imperceptibly, that in the long run, changed the course of his life, and that of Cuba – it is well-known now that but for Che, Castro would not have had his landmark victory.

‘A Note in the Margin’ provides a comparatively deeper idea of what Che was, and it was further sealed by the appendix at the end, titled A Child of my Environment (Speech to medical students, 1960). It is clear that Che’s Hippocratic Oath came from the heart, not from a book. His speech elucidates what he considers the duty of a doctor, and also throws light on his political views.

The three stars are for the book – objectively. The fourth is for Che – because I read this not as a travel-memoir, but as a way to understand Che. In that young, handsome 20-something lad, I was seeking the sparks that were to make some youngster called Ernesto, “Che Guevara”. I read it in an attempt to gain insight into a man who has not been adequately honored. A man who was selfless to the very core. A man who threw away his family, his children, his clearly prosperous, comfortable life to serve an ideology.

Here was a remarkable man who was as passionate and compassionate as he was intelligent; who was more alive to the sorrows of the poor than he was to his own comforts. He was determined and daring. No one has affected me so profoundly before. The fourth star is in his memory, a mark of respect. Despite this being a one-time read for me, I refuse to give an objective three-star rating.

i may have read this wrong, but i saw this book as a travelogue by two affluent doctors who embark on a trip throughout south america without much foresight and planning, relying on false qualifications and the goodwill of lesser advantaged strangers and indigenous people to serve two "ethnically superior" ancestrally-european nomads (i had to reread the appalling observation Che made about the blacks: "who have maintained their racial purity thanks to their lack of an affinity with bathing").

maybe it's because i am part of the #woke generation, i am "triggered" by everything.

these diary entries serve as evidence for their ingrained sense of entitlement and deceptions. very little commentary on the conditions of the social stratifications of latin america that would be worthy of marxist thought or ideology. even so, their moral snobbery shows when taking corn cobs from indians and an ingrained + inherent assumption that indigenous people are born for servitude.

if you're looking for some inspiring political commentary, this is not the book for you (except the last chapter, which is actually a transcript of a speech made much later in his political history, so it doesn't count).

if you're looking for stories about motorcycle adventuring... spoiler alert: they ditch it a few chapters in.

but if you're the type of arrogant adventurer about to embark on a gap year your of latin america - y'know the type of person who has ignored the wishes of their conservative parents offering a spot on their yacht to morocco - and instead decided to go backpacking in "global south" destinations with nothing but a passport and a spare pair of underwear, "slumming it" in a hostel hoping that the locals will take pity on a burnt crisp of a human... then this is your kind of book, plenty of cracking moments. dig in.

For someone who has been inspired by Che and his revolutionary ideas, from his participation in the Cuban revolution, to his support to the liberation movement of Congo. this was a must read. I realized I was not so familiar with the person behind the face of revolution.
In this book you get to know Che as a young, playful and careless traveler who is just getting to know the world and all its flaws. Every part of his and his friend Alberto's Latin American journey was incredible to read. From the many times they kept going after their motorcycle broke, the creative hustles they had to come up with to get food, the hospitals they visited and their encounters with the indigenous population of Latin America. This book made me laugh as many times as it made me cry.

It's not just a travel diary, but an accessible introduction to the very seeds that planted Che's revolutionary thoughts. What I loved most was to see how his views of the world started to expand; To read what was the beginning of his growth from a young student to a future revolutionary; How he has always been a warmhearted person for whom comradeship came naturally; How seeing the unjust circumstances in which Native americans were living made him realize that he wanted to be more than just a doctor; how a truly honorable revolutionary was born, who left this world way too soon.