Hoop To Free Throw Line

(IX)


September 29
day before yesterday I presented a lecture he gave in Pamplona Juan Cruz, a journalist with El Pais and writer, and also served several years as the director of editorial Alfaguara. Juan Cruz has a reputation of very smart and hyperactive, and the little time I can see it in action yes, before and after the talk and over dinner. Curious, she asked a lot to all who presented and has plenty of anecdotes, instantly recalls the names of those around and brings up instant fluently, and all done while deftly handling two phones with non-stops sending and receive messages and calling.

I promised long ago to the four-minute presentation because I knew that it would oblige me, joyfully, read Scrambled Egos. A personal memoir of literary life , which, as the subtitle indicates, are the memories of Juan Cruz on the writers he has known in his life not only, of course, in years he served as boss of Alfaguara. The book has a title formidable, and well worth. They are memories without blood, because the will of Juan Cruz is the opposite: to celebrate how much personal contact with the great names of literature has given in his life, since very young journalist in Tenerife, dreamed planted in the Guillermo Cabrera Infante's house in London, impressed by reading Three Trapped Tigers.

After dinner and farewells, E. and I accompanied Juan Cruz to the hotel. Tomorrow, we said between frequent glances at their mobile phones, has many things to do in Madrid. In the following days, I find his blog you are in Mexico, New York, in Colombia ... And while no longer appear interviews that makes people of all kinds. His will is still to eat greedily life, without rest or brake. Where will further the strength, concentration and calm that require the writing of his books, some gorgeous, and on the other hand publishes annual punctuality?


October 1

We are starting to publish a book that should be included in the box of the complex. Many photographs, texts of various types and authors, including a documentary, an editorial director and a designer to be put on page whole what others will make, in accordance with the guidelines set by the director. Each of those involved have their routines, their hobbies, their ego more or less swollen and phobias.

My role is that of mediator. He performed above or below, all of them. It is difficult, often uncomfortable, tuning bagpipes, treat each one as he deserves, but at the same time monitor the project does not run aground or get out of mom ... Do I have the patience, skill and resolve that? I doubt.

Juan Cruz in Scrambled Egos , is very valuable pages on how to manage a publisher for the egos of the authors. How must serve them, encourage them, care, slow them down at times. Athill Diane's book that I quoted in this newspaper is also instructive in many fragments of the delicate and complex way to behave with the authors. I also remember a publisher reports that more have entertained in many years: Edit life by Michael Korda, a truly captivating book. The author recounts his adventures retouching text of novelists, but also actresses, singers, people with ego not stirred, but loose, bloated, full of character requirements, weaknesses, and always susceptible. I know no other reports of an editor as much fun as Korda.

October 5

Today was a bad day, full of demands pejigueras and stupid, one day very "modern" very much of our time. Maybe that's why I made that very soon the book he was reading, and I remembered some words of Philip Roth Rodrigo Fresán stated in his diary: "The key is not moving books to electronic screens. Not that. No. The problem is that the reading habit is gone. As if we needed an antenna to read and had been cut. Do not get the signal. The concentration, solitude, imagination requires the habit of reading. We lost the war. In twenty years, the reading will be a cult ... a minority hobby. Some will breed dogs and tropical fish, others read ".

I do not like anything apocalyptic laments. But I hate to suspect that I'm a dinosaur. Finally, may all boils down to this: it was a bad day.

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is a book. A diary (VIII)

September 18

Just over a year, overwhelmed by the wild proliferation of books at home, I had to spend my savings (and those who did not, of course, for what I got "help" a savings account) in buying a business located just outside the portal in which I live. For its breadth, and height of the ceiling, I can get there in the future, thousands more books. But down some, that is, from my house to that place, is something I do with some suffering. I feel that the books leave my house and move to settle in the new home experience a degradation undeniable that puts on the verge of elimination, at least in my library disposal. Operation is inevitable, but it bothers me.

Today I organized an appointment with friends at home, and I am forced to remove from the table where dinner, some eighty books that have been staying there, for lack of a better place in which to deposit household. As I do not want those who live still in the bottom sheet (are newly purchased!), I drive home other than the table are accommodation. The way of the bottom sheet volumes'm going to a pre-death. The operation takes me a long while, because it doubts assail me constantly, and later I will make decisions ranging from the harshness and mercy.

September 25

I go to the book fair and used old Pamplona. Among deals that deserve careful consideration, there's so much trash. Are books, a frightening amount!, It's not that now are in balance, it is incredible that long ago someone took the trouble to publish them. The first for its content, of course, absurd, bizarre, ephemeral. But also by other factors: anonymous translations and criminal of great works of world literature, decks cause irreversible eye injury, so boorish or poor bindings that do not allow the book is opened even once without descuajeringue.

worst thing is that I bought two books I already had. And more troubling is that the commitments excited. One of them, the last black , Ramón Buenaventura, I intended to read it as soon as I bought, years ago, but then some novel crossed the road and was relegated Buenaventura and fell into oblivion. Until today, I have come back to buy. The other, my mother's book , is Albert Cohen. I go home, spend several hours and suddenly I have a hunch, I look for that volume, I find it very soon. It even has pages underlined, about six or seven. Clearly, I started ... The rest of the day I go in trifles melancholy about the time spent and the deterioration of my memory, that girl was formidable. Oh, and read my mother's book . I am very interested, like many others that deal with the memory of the father or mother of the writer (Richard Ford, Simenon, Kafka, Paul Auster, etc.). But at the same time reading it is already a matter of pride!

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is a book. A diary (VII)


September 16
At work we had a mess of those that occur from time to time. A book has gone wrong, and blame the mess is not clear. You can be who composed, who printed it, who was editorial coordinator in our own office, or the faults may be split between all parties. As for the worst repeat the printing, and is an expensive book, I talk to everyone before deciding anything. That pushes me to something I like, although I do often enough: visit the press. It is a large print, very sophisticated machinery. We treat the problem that brought me, and then, more relaxed, the situation of the sector. Between memories, some news about people gossiping about the office and some laughs, the press mourn with overwhelming data, the crisis, and how it has beaten the entire graphic arts industry. Talking about people I know who are very good in you, but have fallen more black unemployment, and no longer find another job. Back to the office with the grim mood. And I remember a man I met when I started, a real expert in time, the linotype, and then when they disappeared in the typesetting. A formidable spell, too. One day, after an earlier crisis, which left firms composition reduced to a minimum, I found him cutting tickets at the door of the cinema Carlos III. We smiled uncomfortably and we said nothing.

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is a book. A diary (VI)

September 10

Yesterday I had dinner at the home of a middle class couple, the kind that every month, earning more than five thousand euros. We speak of detective novels, which now seems to be synonymous with Nordic novels. The hosts are people who are alert to all developments in the genre. But yes: novels that can be drawn from the library near his home. Because you never buy a book. Read all taking advantage of the loan service. It is not the only case I know, of course. Many of my acquaintances are supplied with books in the same way.

Sometimes, but not always, these people refer to lack of space at home, or, even, and it already seems more surprising, how expensive books are. We're talking about people who wear nice clothes (that really is expensive!), Living in good houses, and you strike at the least, his last trip to Istanbul, New York or Syria. I know we live in an age that claims the total free in the culture, stupid I do not share if we do not introduce distinctions of various kinds. But man, what's expensive is relative, right? At least for them.

I know that implementing it would not be easy, but I think the criterion should be very different: the service of lending libraries should be able to use almost all of whom only months have to adjust their spending to the penny: the unemployed, students, the poor. And in any case, I think, and very occasionally, bibliomaniac tiny minority of those who buy books as well as non-stop need to consult with such volumes, to prove all the books, which could also fall into ruin if they had the kind of help for your condition.

Then, thinking about those wealthy who consume only books on loan, thus impeding the access to those who really need them, I get an explanation. These people belong to the majority who never read something twice. CS Lewis says that " sure sign that someone lacks literary sensibility is that, for him, the phrase "I've read 'is a final argument against reading a certain book." For these people, continues Lewis, read a book is a dead book, "like a burnt match, a used train ticket or a newspaper the day before, and had used it."

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Videos: Red Hot Chili Peppers Top 10

Following the path initiated by my previous video library (yet not have seen?) And in connection with a conversation I had last Saturday with my friend Henry talking about the video for 'Give it away', I decided to do a Top Ten video clips of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Even based on what visual music that I had in mind that the song is good, which leaves out the Recent video clips belonging to 'Stadium Arcadium' and also most of the eighties music. He has known me out bad videos good enough 'Californication' and 'Fortune Faded', but they could only be 10 ...

Ready? Begin!

10 do not kill coyotes True men

His first video, part of their self-titled debut album is horrible, but I put it as a curiosity to be the beginning of a great career.

9 Give it away

black and white, they play in the desert with silver paint and tools. One of his greatest hits and a good clip.

8 Scar tissue

probably the most normal of the videos I post here, but the song is so good and the video is so well done that I think has to be seen.

Aeroplane

7

I have not only feminine charms of the stars of the video. It is also a joy visual, with lots of color and choreography.

6

Around the world in line

Give it away, is a striking video for one of their best songs.

5 Warped

Also in the same line as above, but even more daring, with a more aggressive aesthetic and Dave Navarro on guitar.

4 Zephyr song

His most psychedelic music video, and belonging to the best song from his popular album 'By the way', very precious and kaleidoscopic.

3 Soul to squeeze

The other black and white video of the RHCP, but much more intimate and leisurely than that of Give it away, and belonging to another great song, undoubtedly one of the most maintained at melodic.

2 Otherside

Another greatest hits musical and commercial level, and also one of its most striking and memorable videos, aesthetics Burtoniana, one of the best videos of 90.

1 Can not stop

Original and very nice to see, although not one of his best songs Can not Stop has a tremendous clip, and possibly video of RHCP more interpretation and work from the band . Result: A video fressshquísimo.

Salu2 insane!

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is a book. A diary (V)

September 6th Book Fair

old and used in San Sebastian. Visited the fair for years around this time, and I always find, at a great price, things that I have not decided to buy before, such as solvents such as editorial Tusquets and Anagram. There is also a bookseller who usually offer very low prices, much of what has Ballantine Books published recently. Today, among other things, nine euros bought the first volume of the edition of the Circle of the complete works of Vargas Llosa, with stories of bosses , novels The city and the dogs and The green house the extraordinary Puppies, and a conference tasty, Secret History of a novel . Circle in the catalog I knew that sells for 45 euros. Of course, I have several editions of those books, but for nine euros I could not resist. I see

also that for five dollars I can take the latest novel by Thomas Pynchon, backlight. Too bad, I bought just last month at the club for thirty. And that is a book that is intimidating. More than a thousand pages, which require, insurance, an arduous and lengthy reading. I need lots of quiet and time to sink his teeth into Pynchon. Impossible to find with the life I lead, or we carry. When can I read?

In the preface to the volume that I purchased from Vargas Llosa (oh, what a wonderful clarity and elegance in his presentation!) I was surprised to find a reluctance by the author, repeatedly expressed, to his second novel, The green house . Vargas Llosa, who is remembered very differently in the remote and sixties, believed that this novel too complicated, drawn by the formal experimentalism. That risk, of course, as well as saved was getting bigger, and disappeared entirely for many years. The problem for me is that many years ago that his books are not interested, and every time you read worse. How long I have not really enjoyed a novel by Vargas Llosa? I think that since History Mayta, 25 years ago. Ah, yes, I was very interested in his memoirs, The fish in water. But novels ... For example, do not understand the almost universal reverence for The party the goat. I do not want to go weird, but I got so bored, it seemed so predictable ... Not a single page invited me to move forward.

PD. Today, when I'm about to give these notes (early October), Vargas Llosa has been granted the Nobel Prize. Seems fair. I just read to Javier Cercas, and says something that I share wholeheartedly: when one has written three novels as The the Hero, The Green House and Conversation in the Cathedral, has already won that prize. Whatever you type after his contribution already made worthy of the Nobel prizes and necessary. And, of course, to grant an award that is supposed to be literary, debería dar igual lo que opina sobre el comunismo o el liberalismo, o si cambia de opiniones políticas a lo largo de su vida. Todo eso son, en estos momentos, banalidades.

Justo hoy, también, leo en el blog de Alberto Olmos, Hikikomori , algo que relaciono inmediatamente con Vargas Llosa. A Olmos lo acaban de incluir, los de la revista Granta , en la lista de los veinticinco escritores en castellano menores de 35 años más prometedores. Y reflexionando sobre su edad, la ambición inmensa que puso en sus primeros esfuerzos literarios, y lo que supone la ambición en la literatura, dice: “Dudo mucho de que los autores mejoren con los años; estoy seguro de que worse. We have already published five novels and the more we realize that we had so much to say, and that every day there is less enthusiasm for saying. Beginner, you do not think more than from the history of literature in two, do not have to attend to minutiae like what editorial published or who writes or what critics criticize. It is written big, small. But then it is giving the impression that it is not worth, at least not worth the stroke, the peeling of the soul, give it all to a blank paper. Life is beautiful at times, says Francisco Brines. Good writing is not beautiful ever, is pain. And sometimes you want to stop hurting " . Vargas Llosa years ago that I wanted to stop hurting, though, so they say, they maintained a spartan regime of work.

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is a book. A diary (IV)

September 1 Yesterday

dealer gave me a book not yet published. In fact, he gave me a pile of leaves glued crudely, with a false cover of a French novel. Proof is still full of errors. The novel will be published within a few months. I felt privileged, someone who is in possession of a small advance, a secret, the secret of a book which in turn is expected to be a bestseller. Today

R., a friend gave me several books. R. is the coordinator of the book review section in a literary magazine, and that performance is constantly receiving packages and boxes with news from all publishers. R. does not seem as excited as I am with those shipments that threaten to cram their study in four days. And more than once I've read reviews from other critics, too overwhelmed with packages that do not stop new arrivals.

So it is not uncommon on the slope of Moyano, in Madrid, was able to buy this more than once bibliomaniac specimens that were within the greeting card of the author or the editor, sometimes with a few lines in which begged the critical reviews the book in question. The other day, for example, I bought a book online Patricio Pron, the Argentine writer, which contained a card from the head of communications for the editorial. On it was written by hand: express wish of the author . Which had been free before selling it to the second-hand bookshop where I bought it, had taken notes of one of the stories included, and there had abandoned them, perhaps because in another story, on the first page, there circled all the "who" had been found. And they were many, certainly, although I did not bother me.

Yo, that except in rare exceptions I buy and pay for my books, yes I have had several times that feeling of being overwhelmed by something related reasons: when I was jury awards and I had to read many things infumables, or where no award through, I had to read out of obligation or commitment. Worse, when I had to say publicly attending not to the book, but considerations, say, social.

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is a book. A diary (III)

July 29

Two months ago I visited a couple. He, in his forties, her early twenties. They live in Catalonia. His appearance is modest, but in his talk was very polite. Without moving, they were sending me emails from computers Pamplona public library in which they sought be me. They wanted to know what to write about Navarra. Not here, not ever written on this earth, they said they were working on legal advice. Not really any book ever written. But they were willing to discuss the issue navarro I would show them. Anyone. History, geography, anthropology, nature, institutions ... They seemed ready for anything. I was a little puzzled. Do not know where to begin to explain that things do not work that way, which is more logical that they are clear, first, study what interests them and then, and what was written, without prior request, commitment and economic advancement, we would see if I was interested or not to publish.

The parting was very successful. But it had to be satisfied. A colleague in another department told me today that he just visited with exactly the same approach. They have not started yet, have nothing to teach. But, as you told me, I could not convince at all.

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is a book. A diary (II)

July 9

I come, I'm on vacation drawing near, the Semana Negra de Gijón. Two years ago I also went on a Friday, the first of the fair, which lasts ten days. Then there's appointment held crime novels and police in the Poniente beach in the heart of the city. Now located next to another beach, the Arbeyal, much less master, the more proletarian, in an area with very modern buildings coexist with ships from a declining industrial area, a typical polygon that Gijón (Asturias that, in reality) that from the late seventies was sinking and has been forced to seek new ways of economic survival and molt. The fair is sandwiched between the beach is very full today, and a crowd grass where a good number of women (women only) sunbathing topless.

first thing the visitor is a real fair. There barracks classics like the Ferris wheel, bumper cars or horses, along with other more novel. But the talk loud brutally dominates the man in the raffle. It looks like the same man for all raffles barracks in the world with the same tone as we heard of children, speaking of dolls for the gentleman or lady.

food stalls abound. Turkish food, Cuban, sausages, sandwiches of all kinds, fried intense at mid-afternoon calorazo dizzy visitors to churn with the flavors of sweet posts. And many posts solidarity in which sells T-shirts and silly craft objects. Books

not much, really. Most houses sell volumes outside the theme of the meeting. Only the position of the library and Criminal Black, of Barcelona, \u200b\u200bis the entity that the event demands. There are other more modest booths offer some novels, and some places sell them occultism and other hoaxes, or studies on dialectical materialism and imperialism, or biographies of Mexican revolutionaries, Cuban and Argentine, and all balances Asturian publisher Júcar, long dead, there is always something worth (buy, for the fifth time, Adolphe by Benjamin Constant, wonderful book). Luckily, I found also two or three positions where the bibliópata can be made at very low prices, very solvent editions Aging, Italo Svevo, the Daily Tolstoy, The World of Yesterday by Stefan Zweig, or The Death of Virgil, Hermann Broch. Volumes, as shown, police rarely, but always good to buy, even if you have.

is assumed that the central place this week is the tent that held the discussions between writers and book presentations of gender. But now the writers will be coming to Gijón, I reckon, on the train that brings in Madrid, and then run her first night partying in the city. Until tomorrow snuggles this tent, late and hungover. Today, the hundred or place chairs are empty, and only two technicians walk testing microphones.

went crazy in times of crime novels and police. Today the genre is still in fashion, and editors no longer know what Nordic post new author, embarking on a frantic search for another Stieg Larsson. But I'm not the same. In recent times I've only read the latest research for civilian guards Lorenzo Silva, water strategy, which seemed to me worse than before, although the bill is solvent, and easy Life by Richard Price . But Price, who I remember very good novels, as Clockers and Freedomland , it is increasingly cast in the genre. In life easier intrigue does not matter. Price making is to portray cops with very aperreadas lives, and in particular to analyze how a crime decays to a family. Great realistic novel, with no adjectives.

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It is a book. A newspaper (I)

In a few days, the magazine TK, who edited the librarians (and librarians, of course, who are the majority) of Navarra will publish a small newspaper that was written between June and October. The idea, as a story there, emerged with great pleasure reading a diary of the Argentine writer Rodrigo Fresán. At that time I thought reading I go to a loosely constructed, which includes a minimum bibliomaniac stories of a man who lives in part about the books that you can read (if very few, very few, by definition), and also works by making books more accurately moving all the threads to make other books go well made, although it does not exactly considered a publisher.

In this blog I will post some journal entries. And leap, when I want, new entries are written in recent months after delivery to the friends of TK this book is .

June 30 Something

increasingly difficult to achieve in my own city: the pleasure of being in a bookstore without talking to anyone, without meeting with acquaintances, without being forced to say hello. Being invisible, totally ignored, unknown. Not having to hold discussions with booksellers, or friends to distract me from what I want to wander, perhaps buy, doubt, retrace my steps, browse and browse the news, or leave without buying anything. Freedom, anonymity.


July 4

need to own the books, buy them, be my own, read or reels at any time. I like to buy, I really enjoy the delayed operation in the library, but perhaps not read them until years later, or even buy just in case, or buy some that interest me doubtfully.

I have a friend, however, that no possessive meaning, no conservation effort. Buy books, read-or-leave if you are bored, and then I resell them at a bargain price usually in a fun game. So yesterday I took the pale man Journal of Juan Gracia Armendáriz, that he intended to buy but I had been left behind in my scans for libraries. Blessed've done business. It is a text full of wisdom in its composition, the book by a writer who is the tone set to tell his fight a man who says he wants more, much more than a sick man, who lives as he can, loves playing sports, read and write, and coexists with other patients on dialysis sessions beautifully told. A man is sometimes a bit desperate by the limitations you have, but almost always kept hope. John, whom I know slightly and with whom I enjoyed several conversations about the readings of each one, has managed not only his best book so far, but a ledger. Reading it made me spend a perfect weekend, and I'm glad you are having a significant impact. I remember, for example, among the many references to books that have appeared in supplements, periodicals and other media, a magnificent and lengthy post of Vicente Verdú, which saw an interview with John on CNN + and was impressed. This book deserves a legion of readers.