A trio of readings

It's been a while since we last talked—and allow me the liberty of imagining these articles as a conversation with you—about books, that is, about some readings that I find particularly recommendable. One keeps reading, and that's basically what one does, like those T-shirts and aprons that proclaim something like (there are several versions) "I read books and I know things." I don't know many things, because our ignorance is always greater than our knowledge, but among the dozens of books I read today, I'd like to recommend three, a shortlist for you to choose from...

First of all, I thoroughly enjoyed reading In Search of Neverland. Political and Intellectual Chronicles of a Long Journey (published by Anagrama), by Josep Maria Colomer, the political scientist (what a word!), economist, and wise professor at Georgetown. I think I've read a good number of his books, which must number around twenty, not counting his contributions to joint volumes, and I've always considered him to be sharp, sharp, and endowed with a blend of intuition and sense of humor that always make his writings accessible, even when he addresses, for me, more arid topics. Readers of La Vanguardia know him well, I imagine, and have read his articles to some extent. But, and I'm getting to the point, this book is something else. It is his most personal work and, if I may say so, his most naked. He weaves together what might seem like scattered episodes and texts from a life, his own, but manages to do so in a way that, in this volume, becomes a very personal autobiography while also portraying the intellectual journey of his generation. With the anomaly—let's put it that way—of his first stay in the United States, the land of Neverland, when Catalan families went almost nowhere. His parents' trip to America thus becomes the root from which this leafy tree of life emerges. Professor Colomer, who still retains his bangs—yes, envy speaks—and an irreproachable youthful appearance, is already an emeritus by age. And I won't be so rude as to say it, but it is from that height of a lifetime lived that he tells us his dense political and intellectual biography, entangled in universities and administrations almost all over the world. Europe, of course, with special attention to the peculiar British, but also the East, Latin America, and, of course, those United States that illuminate and even justify this book. Fifteen countries, four continents, and several decades of life accompanied by drawings and photography by this inveterate globetrotter who, in the end, I think leaves a trace of anti-nationalism—despite his Catalan militancy—that I don't know if he himself has fully grasped. In any case, if you read the book, you'll inevitably fall under the spell of this well-read, well-traveled, and well-experienced professor.

I have always found Colomer to be sharp, sharp, and endowed with intuition and a sense of humor.

Let's go for the second: HomeNets , by Carme Fenoll (published by La Campana), is a quasi-journalistic text, easy and quick to read. The idea of ​​the former librarian of Palafrugell (and librarians are librarians for life) is brilliant and sparked several meetings in Calonge—you know, the book village —and even a radio program. Based on the Homenets of Josep Pla (there is a double prologue by two directors of the Josep Pla Foundation), Fenoll summons descendants of some of those homenets and mixes genetic inheritance with others that represent her spiritual or intellectual heritage. Inevitably, the volume is uneven, and some characters and their double offspring are more interesting than others, but the mix has a remarkable alchemy, and the selection of the chosen homenets is also powerful: Francesc de Borja Moll, Pompeu Fabra, Jaume Vicens Vives, Joan Maragall, Salvador Espriu, Josep Trueta, and Carles Riba. Teresa Cabré, Quim Nadal, Cristina Gatell, Jordi Amat (astute as usual), Salvador Macip, among others, pass through their roles as metaphysical heirs.

And finally, to complete the list: Síndrome 1933 by Siegmund Ginzberg, published by Gatopardo. Weeks, if not months, ago I was supposed to recommend a book that, despite some minor historical errors (in my opinion), draws an analogy between the end of the Weimar Republic and Adolf Hitler's rise to power and our current geopolitical moment. The author, who was born in Istanbul to a Jewish family, emigrated with his parents to Italy as a child, and is a journalist who worked as a correspondent in the United States, Japan, Paris, Korea, China, India... He is fully aware that he is writing an analogy with sharp edges. And we all know that history doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme. And this very easy and quick read, very Italian, leaves one with the very bad feeling of fearing that 1933 could be repeated, or be very similar, a hundred years later. The prologue to the Spanish edition is dated September 2024, before Trump had even won the American elections. I want to tell you that this very Italian journalist, with clear left-wing sympathies, must now be much more pessimistic. The reading is pleasant, the possible conclusions and comparisons are chilling. And yes, there is something alarmist and excessively reductionist, but it is not a mistaken or Manichean view despite our famous polarization. It's a warning that I would love for Feijóo to read and assimilate. (If he reads it, you'll understand why I say this.) Curious note: this book impressed Pope Francis. In fact, he recommended it to Pedro Sánchez when the Spanish Prime Minister met with him in 2020 at the Vatican (sorry! I forgot to tell you that the book and its predictions are a few years old, and things haven't gotten any better). One more gem: Did you know that Léon Blum, the leader of the French Socialists, came to see Hitler as less dangerous and more intelligible than the old traditional German right?

Three books, in short, with which to read and learn things...