St George’s day was near and I could say media pressure had influenced me, but that’s simply no excuse. The real thing is I liked My life without me, by Isabel Coixet. Its melodrama features did not become a damp patch on the script. It has sad and joyful, tender and hard moments, just like the life we live and the one that slips away. That’s why I read the comments about Isabel’s last film, Elegy. I found the leading actress frightening (Pe’s expressivity is an interesting subject we’ll discuss some other day), but on the other side I found it interesting to learn that the film is based on a novel by Philip Roth. I had read none of Roth’s novels and thought it was a good chance to start. Moreover, there were quite positive comments about the novel. Its title in Spanish is El animal moribundo. At that time I didn’t know what the title in English was.

Don’t know if I’ll finally make my mind up and see the film, but I doubtlessly wanted to read the book, so I went to a shopping center which I could say is like a ship with Faulty New Awful Crew. You can easily imagine my state of excitement walking along endless rows of books which longed to be read. I bought a nice one about horses for a present and went to a counter where a young boy was supposed to be helping the clients. I guess he was deeply proud of his dark curly hair, as it was all that could be seen of him in his hanging-down-head position. Of course there’s also the possibility that lower parts of that shop counters are absolutely fascinating. I’ll tell you if I ever work there. Anyway, I asked in a loud clear voice:

- “Please, I’m looking for the novel by Philip Roth in which the last film by Isabel…”

He wouldn’t let me finish. With amazing abbility and without even changing position, -and of course with hanging down head- he stretched his arm towards the shelf near him (an elastic arm perhaps?) and he produced a novel by Roth that in its spanish version was titled Elegy (yup, in English). I looked at the first page in order to see the original title: Everyman.

The young boy was still pondering whether the floor was clean enough.

- “Ahem!” -I tried to catch his attention.- “Oh well, the thing is, I thought the novel was called El animal moribundo.”
- “Is this one.”
- “Are you sure? Funny thing changing its name, isn’t it? In fact, Elegy is the name of the film, but not that of the nov…”
- “Is this one.” This time he raised his head, for it was the only way for me to appreciate his tired sight in all his sneering-at power.

I had the strong temptation of asking him what the worst shop in the world was, just to see if he answered “Is this one” as well, but I didn’t succumb to it. I took the book between my thumb and my finger, the way we take filthy objects, with the nasty feeling of having been fooled. But it was plain for me to see the the boy was not going to be of any help.

About to make a complete fool of myself, as I was close to the cash desk, I went up to the books floor again and looked for somebody cleverer or, at least, more charitable. A friendly girl told me as politely as possible that the book I had in my hands was not the one I was looking for.

Feeling highly self-confident, I got out of the shop and asked for the novel in another one where books are always full of joy. They wanted me to buy Elegy as well.

Back in the street, I was astonished and breathless. You could call it conspiration. I left some room for doubt and at home I got stuck on the chair in front of my PC display and searching the web. There I found, of course, Roth’s bibliography. Here’s the link, if you feel like having a look. And here are the two titles it’s all about:

The Dying Animal (2001)
Everyman (2006)

The novel I’m looking for, The dying animal,  is very likely sold out. If some of you have the intention of buying it, don’t let anybody fool you. Wait until people stop talking about the film. I will. Once I’ve finished the book, I’ll tell you my impressions. Maybe I’ll raise the conclusion that it’s no worth me struggling to find it.

≡ Category: Books, Lifetime | ≅ Leave a comment

Today I feel like writing verses rather than prose. Happy St. George’s day!

 

 

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Apr

17
' '

In the glass.

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I had thought of another kind of post, but right now I prefer a joyful touch rather than a transcendental one.

Time for two annyversaries. First of all, happy birthday to a boy I got to know when he was 23 and I was none. Have a great day!

The other anniversary gives me the perfect excuse to practise a bit of ‘navel-gazing’ (what would become of a blog without it?).

I have always seen drawing and writing as a way to pour whatever that is in the glass: It can be a sparkling wine that goes off in little pieces and tickles or a red intense heavy one; a silky light aromatic liquor or even a beer, either fresh and summery or bitterly dark. However, it’s never water, as water is insipid and colourless and inspiring feelings are just the opposite.

In catalan, in spanish, something in english… I’ve written a lot, as you will see in this blog. Let me suggest an interesting activity just to praise the beauty of literature. You can cast long explanations aside when just two little texts are able to tell the whole story. I’m responsible for the texts and the story is up to you.

I wrote this in late september or october of 2003 and my dear Palimp loved it. I titled it “Ven”, showing a naive concept of being original I hope you make allowances for:

Tendrás el sol en las manos
y ojos de luna,
sed de poemas lejanos
desde tu cuna.
Sabrás cómo ahogar tu alma,
tejer tu risa.
Nos oirán llorar con calma,
reír sin prisa…
Serás ciego a mi armonía
de luz y viento,
girasol al mediodía
de lo que siento.
Y guardaré tu pañuelo,
limpio de muerte,
para que anudes mi pelo
cuando despierte.
Ven, amor mío,
que no sé cómo sueñas
y tengo frío.

He also loved this “Fábula moderna o Maravillas de la téSnica” I wrote some year and a half later.

Todo el que haya tenido
de gas fogón
si es un poco pulido
conoce el son:
“Date tiempo, muchacho,
para limpiar.
Ya verás el empacho
para montar”.
Los fogones redondos,
cuando los metes,
son de lo más cachondos
… y cabroncetes.
Pues si salen sin maña,
todo alegría,
no vuelven ni con saña
de ingeniería.
Y el momento sublime
del encajar
te eleva y te redime
del vil penar.
Así ocurre con gente
de por ahí
un hecho de repente
no baladí:
Que por sencillo es nuevo
de resolver
lo que costaba un huevo
de acometer.
Y así sin darse cuenta
con otro pasa
que todo se aposenta
como en su casa.
Y es normal que disfruten
de la ocasión
si algo encaja dabuten
como el fogón.
Ved, pues, como las cosas
que no son tales
nos llevan a las rosas
espirituales.
Si tenéis ese encaje,
flor de los dones,
disfrutad del viaje
con dos… fogones.

(A good love is as worthy as a good laugh. Ask the Arcipreste!)

Some five years ago (time for retrospectives as well, I’m getting old), taking a walk on Barri Gòtic in Barcelona with my great friend JdeT, I told him I had the feeling life was about to surprise me and also felt anxious about that since I did not know when or how.

That feeling vanished four years ago and today I celebrate that vanishing. My life since then has been far from easier, but definitely more complete and (why not say it?) happier. This is always worth a toast. I raise my full glass towards the light… just can’t take my eyes off its gleam.

≡ Category: I feel and I write, Lifetime | ≅ Leave a comment

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Apr

12
' '

Whose permission?

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First: Self-help books make me feel sick. No doubt we could find decent as well as funny exceptions, but I can’t think of any of them now nor it’s the moment to do it. I’ve got nothing against engaging oneself in deep thoughts about life, In fact I do it quite often; taking some time to think why we have certain habits has its charm, and so has changing them just for pleasure or because all of a sudden the change looks like something great to us. What makes me shiver is how naturally people tells you what to do and why you have to do it. And things get even worse when you realize anyone dares. They will find unthinkable you not wearing tanga or not watching documentaries in TV2, but won’t stop to think whether the really inconceivable thing is them trying to impose their viewpoints over those of yours.Second: I like words that sound good and I like people who are able to use them and make up gorgeous sentences or verses. Regardless literary preferences, I think that in too many occasions writers succumb to temptation and pull nice words out of the hat just as if they could work magic for themselves. The result is, in short, too many foregrounds without any background: appearance.

Now lets try to merge self-help and appearance in our minds. And let’s go gon.

Third (and last): I like free press. We live fast and free newspapers are such a fast way of keeping on the wave that I make allowances for their disgraceful style and awful spelling. I also use to pick almost all of them every morning and therefore I’m able to have things pretty clear about what can be expected from every title.

Today I’ll talk about the one that offers a daily article written by a lady. There are five ladies and they have been assigned a day each, which is good because leaves no room for nasty surprises. The articles are usually pretty well written and, even though I don’t always agree with the authors, I must say they don’t use to tell nonsense. That’s why I read their oppinions every day. Bar Wednesdays.

Wednesdays It’s Angela’s turn.

If you know what I’m talking about, maybe you’re thinking that wednesday’s article is just your favourite. Well, it’s not mine at all. Long-suffering readers, I wake up very early in the morning. When I read the articles I’m talking about I feel terribly sleepy, and if my stomach has refused to swallow even a cup of coffee, it would be pitiless trying to force my brain to get into such deep waters as (sorry for not translating, Idon’t have the guts):

“El interés que podemos despertar en los demás nos masajea”

“La serenidad es ese sublime estado de ánimo en el que no hay viento que te despeine las neuronas.”

“Glorioso o intrascendente, hoy va a ser un día único porque jamás volverá a repetirse de idéntica manera.”

“…la imposición, esa almendra amarga que produce halitosis en el alma y arcadas en el cerebro. Mucho mejor es juzgar y entenderse desde la llana realidad del presente.”

Good grief! “arcadas en el cerebro” (brain feeling seasick), you can say that again! This, at best, will ruin your day at its very beginning, and at worst I’m sure you’ll get nephritic spasm and oesophagus cramp. I tell you, if I feel like reading self-help stuff some day, I doubtless will, but of course in another time of day, in another context and having thoroughly chosen the author.

Just one more fine expression Ángela wrote as epitaph (sorry, I meant epilogue) for one of her articles:

“Si “ser o no ser” es la cuestión, “hacer de acuerdo con el ser” es la plenitud.”

The girl had titled the article: “Con permiso de Hamlet” (With Hamlet’s permission”). No wonder. If she had asked Shakespeare I’m sure she wouldn’t have got it.

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Apr

8
' '

“Històries veïnals” (neighbourhood tales) 3rd edition: Virtual snack.

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I joined in on the 2nd edition and was eager to begin with the 3rd one. The Veí de dalt (the upstairs neighbour) likes to organize many hand tales for literature-sick people who love writing and making up stories. That doesn’t prevent us from keeping our heads in the clouds in daily life (would never give up that pleasure), but helps to let off steam. Those who feel like reading will find the rules for the 3rd edition here. And the tales will be published here as this cyber-baby-park for adults organizer receives them. As innovation, this edition will turn into an illustrated one thanks to l’Avi, and the images fringing the tales have been chosen or designed by the authors of the tale-pieces themselves. As the keen readers have already seen in the rules, this time the writers have also played the “exquisite corpse” writing a many hand poem. We have written just one verse each, knowing only the last word of the previous verse, which makes me wonder if the result will be the least legible.

Seriously, It’s an experience I highly recommend, if you don’t mind having a go on Spanish or even Catalan. The satisfaction of sharing insanity and moreover being able to see the result in each edition will make you an addict non able to take just one, as it was said in a well-known potato chips commercial.

Wow, that’s a good one. Històries veïnals: virtual snack. I like it.

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Apr

6
' '

Un burka por amor, by Reyes Monforte: Sophisticated masochism.

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The first time I saw this book I found it appealing but didn’t buy it. I did next time and must say it was a good deal and a better reading. Let’s be realistic: you won’t find a bit of skill or poetry in its style, the kind Ruiz Zafón has got us used to. But the book becomes priceless if you see it as an historical witness. Bar from the countless times you’ll be about to make the main character an injury regarding the way she treats the only thing that is worth to preserve (i.e: one’s life), Un burka por amor (A burka for love) is a cruel as well as realistic account which leads us through the hard life of women (well, not only women) in Afghanistan.

On basis of this book, you could make many judicious statements about difficult childhoods, non-overcome adolescences, family relationships, massochism dressed in love and all that stuff. I just recommend it to all of you, specially to women who open their mouths instinctively every morning as they put on their make up, just the way I do, while far away other women are bleeding to death after a difficult childbirth without any surgery. Because when women in Afghanistan need medical treatment they are allowed to be touched only by other women, but there are not female doctors because studying is banned for women. Paradox and cruelty at the service of law.

I won’t make any summaries. Just read the book. You must not be afraid of knowing what’s going on in the world. Although it certainly looks like the darker nightmare in too many occasions.

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