Whence Cercas’ phenomenally irritating penchant for repetition in Anatomía de un instante, his history manquée (hence, surely, the label “novel” in the marketing) of the 1981 coup attempt? Too young to have fallen prey to the viscous clutch of senile dementia, and insufficiently stupid to believe that cliché-infested, rambling prose a poetic epic doth make, I wonder whether the answer doesn’t lie in numerology.
The postmodifying motif “políticamente * y personalmente roto” appears on seven occasions in the book, in application to both Suárez and Gutiérrez Mellado. On the first six {* = “acabado”}, while on the seventh it mutates most curiously to {* = “hundido”} that (deep breath) is surely inexplicable except with reference to the Black Arts. Any other feasible fetishisms out there?
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One of the most distressing limitations on intellectual activity in Spain is the considerable sectarian expectation that if one finds oneself in concurrence with certain axiomatic aspects of the political beliefs of artists one will also enthusiastically purchase and evangelise their work.
I happen to agree with Cercas in general terms about the (necessity of the) role played by Suárez and Gutiérrez Mellado, but as a writer he is impossible to admire.
The same applies to Albert Boadella, adopted by certain classes as emblem of a campaign against the Catalan kleptocracy: my views on the post-transition political settlement generally echo his, but his political satire is crude and therefore for me at least weak, and his autobio, Adiós Cataluña, which I read the other night, has its amusing moments, but is to a great extent sentimental twaddle.
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