"A vermouth, the bitterer the better," asks Alejandro Alvarfer, and he leans elegantly against the bar, in an immaculate Gabicci polo shirt, narrow trousers and suede desert boots, with a copy of Stewart Home's Tainted Love, the latest volume published by his newly born publishing house, Colectivo Bruxista.
"I am an Asturian editor living in Barcelona. I moved in March 2020, just before the apocalypse broke out, after having lived five years in Madrid, which makes me a full member of the Asturian diaspora," smiles this millennial who entered the publishing world when he left Asturias –"a decision that changed everything"-- because, after years "without having any damn idea what to do with my life," he had understood that "what I wanted was to be paid to read."
Thus, Alejandro Alvarfer has been working in the book sector for six years "in which I have done practically everything: I have been an editor and proofreader, I have worked as a bookseller, including a surreal experience in an esoteric bookstore, and I have been forced to translate ominous novels of those they call young adult. I was several years on the staff of the Defausta publishing house, dedicated to the rescue of obscure nineteenth-century novels, and I have worked with several fiction and non-fiction publishers, such as Ático de los Libros or Mapas Colectivos. I also write, especially about books in collaborations with media such as Quimera or Librújula."
--And can one make a living from this in this country, afflicted by one of the lowest per capita reading rates in Europe?
--It has not been easy to find a niche in such a precarious sector, but I have been working as a freelance editor for some time and, at least, I can make a living from it.
Subcultural Retailing
"In 2017, I got together with several friends to publish the first issue of Bruxismo, a fanzine dedicated to subcultures and other obsessions, which was the germ of the Colectivo Bruxista publishing house. We set up the label in the middle of the pandemic and we have already published two books that are doing very well," he explains about the hilarious Un mono marino se ha bebido mi Fanta, by Dani Llabrés from Valencia, and Stewart Home's recent volume, which offers a not-so-kind or lavish vision of the Swingin' London of the 60s.
"What I am most proud of is having founded this publishing house with two of my best friends, my beloved Adela and Saralegui, and ridiculous capital. The idea is to publish novels, essays and photography books, always related to the marginal and underground," he boasts.
--Are you having a good reception?
--The coolest thing is to see how a small community has been created that shares our obsessions and supports us in everything we do.
This community is articulated in the various subcultures that survive in the national underground: an engine that has been feeding the passions and obsessions of the editor, who also organizes black music parties "and I play records, wherever they let me." Needless to say, everything on vinyl, and if possible, original.
"After the summer we are releasing Ecstasy & Wine –he announces suddenly, before ordering another vermouth--, a book of subcultural portraits by Felipe Hernández. It is a very special volume for us, which will be released in a limited and very carefully produced edition and includes a prologue by Miguel Trillo." And he issues a warning to sailors: "It can already be reserved on our website, and they are flying."
A mille-feuille city
Smiling, with a gaze faster than words, treasuring ideas, seeking the perfect cooking point for his projects and to sublimate all that unstoppable subcultural devotion, Alejandro Alvarfer confesses to loving Sant Andreu, the neighborhood where he resides. "I moved for love, barely knowing the city and expecting nothing from it. Two days after disembarking, the lockdown was decreed, so for three months the only thing I knew here were the supermarkets. When I could finally go out, I was an easy prey for a city that trapped me. Months later I moved to Sant Andreu, which has been the consummation of my Barcelona adventure. I feel very comfortable." In fact, he is already preparing a micro-editing and illustration festival that will take place in the neighborhood in November, "together with my friend Txema Urdampilleta, one of the members of the fanzine Polvos de Talco."
In the landing process, a friend lent Alejandro a book that told how, at number 22 of the Rambla, one could still see the marks that the heels of old prostitutes had left on the marble of the entrance, on cold nights waiting for clients. "I couldn't help but check if such a gruesome story was true, of course. But when I arrived I found nothing. Feeling cheated, I went into the bar next door for a beer and there they had the marble plaques hanging on the wall, informational sign included."
--I confess I didn't know they had removed that marble from there…
--I think this anecdote well reflects one of the things that most strikes me about Barcelona. The feeling that they have built several cities one on top of the other, as if it were a mille-feuille. In other large cities, several different cities can coexist; here, perhaps due to lack of space because of natural barriers, it seems they have had to make them all in the same place.
Then, Alejandro Alvarfer finishes his second vermouth and asks to see the menu. "I have always thought that the daily menu is one of the greatest civilizational achievements of our species," he declares.