By Héctor Abad Faciolince

Some books slip into our lives almost by accident. A glimpse of a cover on a dusty shelf, a fleeting mention in the footnote of another work, or a casual reference in conversation — and suddenly they are there, claiming space in our thoughts. I’m not entirely sure how Héctor Abad’s memoir Oblivion found me, but I am certain I will not forget it.

Before opening its pages, I knew neither the author nor his father, whose life — and death — form the beating heart of this 261-page work. Abad’s father, Dr. Héctor Abad Gómez, was a renowned medical doctor, university professor, and fearless human rights advocate in Colombia. In 1987, he was murdered — silenced by those aligned with the country’s wealthy elites, government, and military.

Yet Oblivion is far more than a political testament or an account of injustice. It is a luminous exploration of the knotty, tender, and often unspoken dynamics between father and son. Abad writes with grace and intimacy, weaving the personal and the political into something achingly human. The result is a book that is not merely about loss, but about the enduring presence of love and the stubborn beauty of those who choose to stand against darkness.

This is a memoir to be read slowly, to be savoured — a work that affirms the world would indeed be a poorer, dimmer place without people like Héctor Abad Gómez.