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Nabarralde

was held last week in Pamplona a meeting of historians to discuss in depth about the conquest of Navarre Castilla troops in 1512. A conquest, war, invasion or so passively accepted, say what you prefer, which gradually led to the incorporation of Navarre, more or less degree or force (the principle of force, of course, that's why there weapons, war and death) in what became the English monarchy.

A Mina Thomas Urzainqui this conference did not like a hair. Already in the title of your article branded him "denier." And the adjective is repeated more than once. Denial, if I mistake not, is a word that began a few years ago used to refer to all historians and groups politicians who deny that the Holocaust of the Jews in World War II took place, and thus liberated the Nazis of their principal and terrible crime. The term is heavily loaded with political connotations, and its emotional intensity, as well as we wanted, is very high. (The denial, by the way is a crime in several European countries, without going any further in France.) Later, as degrading and trivializing the charge, some have labeled deniers écolâtre who venture skepticism about climate change and its more or less catastrophic effects on the health of our planet.

throwing down the slope of the hype Urzainqui uses the adjective, with all its emotional charge, for, in their view of what happened in Navarra from 1512, set a very sharp moral separation between the invading Spaniards, genocidal, soulless, and the poor Navarre (for him Basques, of course), then slaughtered. Like Da Guipuzcoa and Vizcaya were an essential part of the Castilian army that occupied Navarra. Nothing hairs to sea, the English are murderers and Navarre (Basque) a victim, just like that.

Congress was not plural, as Urzainqui. Pluralism, more pluralism!, Roars in his article. Clear that the concept of pluralism has this lawyer, historian in his spare time, and who spends a despicable, syntax and punctuation, it suffers from obvious limitations. It resembles the plurality that made "within the regime," the Movement to different families in times of Franco. Or, to come to these times, recalls a Basque nationalist aspiration of a future to be plural, as recently wrote Fernando Savater, "from Tasio Erkicia at one end to Bernardo Atxaga in another." No more spectrum (much less, actually) covering the historians cited Urzainqui Navarre, the "true" story, which he said could not attend the conference last week.

Because for this outstanding representative of the association Nabarralde with limited pluralism that is more than enough. Other historians, such as they were in Congress, are not only representatives of "denial subordination" (sic), or "entrenched denial of deafness." They also represent "an authoritarian and monopolistic conception of power" are "a purely lopsided and biased from an entrenched attendance, which prevents them from the serene and full knowledge of the facts and historiography generated in these five hundred years", and in short, only represent the power "that seeks to shore up their present course of submission and subordination antinavarra undemocratic. " Oh, antinavarra ... sounds like "anti-English" or "antivasca" nationalist insults.

If that is the vision of Nabarralde of all who disagree with them, what does it mean in your mouth, a desire for a conference "plural and all-encompassing, all historiographical trends and contrast instead of the various arguments existing reality of the conquest of Navarre? As a joke, a joke delusional. The other, dissenting, is antinavarro, antivasco, denier, ghoul, assassin of power, or all at once, and also Lost serenity! With reproaches of such caliber, when one is filled up to that point of truth, and so loathes those who hold other theses, appeals to pluralism merely instrumental sound, pure quackery.

The protagonist of the Basque homeland of all , the estimable novel Iban Zaldivar, said that Nabarralde is "an association of historiomaniacos deluded who claim that Navarre was the first 'Basque state', and who insist on calling the Basques, for example, "Navarre West '." Exactly. told months ago in this blog how one of the historians nacioanlistas Basque Urzainqui citing these same people of Nabarralde had deleted without any permission from the author, a phrase that we liked in his book about the war in Navarra, a book otherwise orthodox. Censorship the hard way, without anesthesia. And the same dare to speak of pluralism, objectivity and science? Historiomaniacos deluded, and also shameless.

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radio Manuel Hidalgo

two days ago, seeking an appointment that could be sounded in Plato's school, a beautiful little book by Fernando Savater, was back pages where the author recalls the time when, to his guns years, decided to order a room for himself in the family home in Madrid.

I also I have vivid memories of my own room, a space for shelter and insulation. It happened at fifteen. Take a few sleeping in that room, but only when, after much prodding, I got my parents to agree to put a table in it, the room became my in the place where, behind closed doors, I could read until late and listen to the radio without pause or early mono vinyl on a turntable, a top-speaker Cosmo.

Until that day had always studied the kitchen table or in the middle of the bustle family, or for the nights calm, while my parents and sister watched television in the living room (lounge would be an excessive word to describe this cabin). But the table actually a table on which had been six years the TV Lavis, with which it agreed to a single channel, the other, the UHF, could be a hundred and a wind-changed everything. Could study in my room, and could read and read everything that fell into my hands, it was horrible. And I is not never read in bed, and very little on couches. I've always preferred to support the book on a table, although much or little.

I have said that the table, freedom, the great loneliness, the door closed, the small small area, it also allowed me to listen to the radio. Armed with a small transistor, looking earnestly voices brutal calmed my craving for knowledge, learn, out of the almost total lack of cultural stimulation on living my happy family. There was much, of course. The terminal Franco imposed his iron rule and there were no stations in Navarre, I think, Popular Radio, the radio network Radio Movement and Requete, associated with Ser Everything was between talk radio (which they issued the news power, connection required for all strings), contests, inspirational programs, magazines and music of similar pointless hair-although it is true in the latter field is allowed modest modern islands.

However, I soon found in Radio Popular, and made in Pamplona, \u200b\u200ba weekly film program that led Manuel Hidalgo. I was a crazy movie buff, and Manuel Hidalgo (did not know who he was, of course, and that was just four years older than me, but at those ages four years are many) spoke of the films could be seen in Pamplona, \u200b\u200bin the rooms in commercial or film clubs. They were movies that I saw, because I spend my little money on movie tickets Carlos III, or Aitor Arrieta, and went to the movies for free-Lux club, and that delayed remarkably illuminating analysis of Hidalgo. He was already then a major film formation, or so I remember, and I stuck to the transistor to not disturb my family, enjoying and learning with your comments about Cabaret , Godfather or The Discreet Charm bourgeoisie, or Rhome film, Truffaut, Visconti or Saura.

His words, always quiet, and very well built and such, with that magnificent voice that has Hidalgo-do not know why he has not used more in an environment that so often are heard loud and vulgar tones, "allow open in the small town to another way of looking at a few ways to understand and study the films multiplied my rapture joyous and reflective in the rooms. In addition, its words, Manuel Hidalgo pricked a royal music: same as Mozart and Bach to American or Latin American folk and Catalan songs that were neither the shell in my home sound environment or friendships.

years ago I meet Manuel Hidalgo, and in recent months I've seen a lot of work issues. But the opportunity has never arisen to mention the experience of youth, that shines in my memory. In his modesty, one of those experiences that help form someone at a vital moment and snatched confusing, especially if it has the tremendous thirst for learning that burned me then, and the room itself (the adolescents need even more than Virginia Woolf) and sought solitude made it possible. I do not remember how long did that program Hidalgo, then a student, but I must blades, fine blades, to the best of my training when then .

"Like all truly sociable person, I love that social privilege par excellence space loneliness. Having a place to be alone with all that you love, knowing that others are close at hand and hear the sound or make friends with their souls. This is the most enriching sense can have a house, a family and community. I have been fortunate as luck (and that otherwise supreme luck, character) has allowed me to know and enjoy this joy ".

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The other day, dining, a writer, I recommended, among other films, see The World According to Barney . I pay attention, because it is based on a novel, titled here Barney's version, the Canadian writer Mordecai Richler. I bought and read immediately when it came out ten years ago, in an edition of Mondadori it had no success until the end of that, I suspect, much of the run was destroyed soon. I suppose in some libraries will have it. Now, due to the premiere of the film, has reissued (with the same translation, excellent, Miguel Martinez-Lage), a small publisher, Sixth Floor, albeit at a price, 27 euros, clearly excessive.

I came home the other day, however, with some regret, because the truth is that I remember nothing, or almost all, of this novel, ten years later. What is the plot? What is? What happens to Barney, what gives his version? No idea.

I have only one point absolutely clear in my memory: I enjoyed a lot with Barney's version, which I found an excellent book. That memory itself is clean, crisp.

Great, I will address the rereading with renewed enthusiasm. And with that memory, enough for me to make a recommendation to anyone.

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not remember the unsocial sociability

Barañain Tertulia. The same pleasant environment, as always, the same people so dear. But recently my participation in this gathering is very intermittent. And I will not feel obliged to read all the books suggested, however balanced and attractive is the list that Jesus, the librarian, has prepared.

With the amount of regulated areas that are in my life, unavoidable commitments they come to me or who I can not say no, I want to preserve, in reading, a place to get carried away the mood of the moment, by the call of the latest innovation or, conversely, the claim of the book completely out of date that someone has suggested, or quoted and do not know where that particular time that fits my interests or obsessions, at least a priori (then there are disappointments, of course, but also joys unusual). I remember with nostalgia those remote years when I read like crazy, without plan or obligations, moving haphazardly from the broad field of my tastes.

Today we speak of Barañain The Baron in the Trees, by Italo Calvino. A wonderful book, much more entertaining, profound and subtle than I remembered. The adventurous life of a hero trees (and it's great the way it always tries to Calvin's fantasy of his adventures keep a healthy dose of credibility), but at the same time very contemporary text, a parable that helps to think about current issues and feelings furiously.

The Baron in the Trees supports thousand approaches. But in my reading of these days I've thought about how Cosimo, the baron who at twelve years decides to live forever in the trees, define their relationship with others. Cosimo is a hermit, not a bitter or haughty unsociable, or someone who has decided to break with his family or the people of his town, or do not want to know anything of those who visit over the years, attracted by its strange way of life and wisdom. Moreover, Cosimo actively involved in community life. Several times when your contribution is crucial to addressing the problems they pose to their countrymen. And it's full of dreams reformist social improvement plans.

But from that, almost child, climbs trees, Cosimo is a free man, a man who, as he says when his first love away, resists, which reserves the right to be or not be, to appear or disappear, zoom in or out. His stubbornness to stay on the tree symbolizes a lifetime commitment that encourages you not to be assimilate, to prevent any person or group he or atenace domestique. He is always on air, which does not mean that is always nearby, out there, hovering near or far, coming and going by the limited scope of their domains, trees that you can jump. All

a moral lesson.

"As this passion that has always shown Cosimo partner for life be reconciled with their perpetual flight of civil partnership, is something I've never understood, and remains one of the no less singular in his character. It seems that he was the more determined to hide among the branches, the more I felt the need to create new relationships with mankind. But although occasionally be cast, body and soul, to organize a new society, carefully setting the statutes, the purposes, the choice of the most appropriate for each office, his colleagues never knew how far he could have , when and where to find it, and when it would suddenly gained bird by nature and would not be catching more. Maybe, if it is to be reduced to a single pulse these contradictory attitudes, have to think he was also the enemy of all kinds of human relations existing in his time, and that's why everyone was fleeing, and she was struggling with stubborn to experience new ones, but none of them seem fair and sufficiently different from the others, hence their continued hiatus absolute disdain. "

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Are we sure of our past? Positive Thinking

"We do not own anything, not even from our past. All that we lived and we tend to regard as a definitive acquisition, immutable, is constantly threatened by our present, our future, "he wrote Julio Ramón Ribeyro in Prose stateless.

Pilar Donoso you read the diaries and letters of his father, José Donoso, Chilean writer and when he wrote his mother, Pilar Serrano, it happened that many memories he had of his family life, crystallized many images in its memory, suffered a brutal jolt. The subsequent task of transcribing, sorting, and publicize such a huge amount of personal documents, often very close, which was "trying to retain some objectivity (...), giving way to pain, to the admiration, puzzlement and even fear "it was discovered that twenty-eight years had lived next to someone who was believed to know very well, but he discovered more of the many masks he assumed, has resulted Taking the veil, which appeared in Alfaguara Spain ago few months, and now I read.

is a fascinating book, for what it teaches about many human feelings, but also on the obsessions and literary ideas of a great writer, as was the Chilean Donoso. A book that has many facets of interest, but that starts with the perplexity of the child experiencing pain in any moment of our life can arise that will stagger new data that we had already established in our memory.