It's not exactly that charging for a stall on Passeig de Gràcia takes away from the popular spirit of the festival, since the charge is confined to this area of the city, indeed. But it is, you will agree with me, at least unsettling. I suppose it's about putting a filter, so that not everyone, not all large or small publishers, can access this spectacle of signings and thus avoid crowds. That said, and partially understanding it, I don't like it. I don't like that the order of the Diada de Sant Jordi is an order of decree, of administrative regulation, of a fee and an entrance. Evidently there is an expense, and an order service, and a logistically complex organization, but I would say that there is something called taxes and that the City Council can more than cover that expense in favor of an ancestral, popular and civic Diada. Or that or charging for the front rows of the Three Kings parade, or some concert at La Mercè, don't you think? And I fear that we are starting to obsess over ordering everything as a result of the pandemic and since then we don't know how to give space to spontaneity and to we'll figure it out. And the Diada becomes, even if only in the heart of the Eixample, a Diada of the editorial market and of buying and selling. And no, this was not it.
If any ordering of the stalls were necessary, it would be to separate literary authors from the ineffable instagramers, influencers, tiktokers, pornstars, showmen and divas who drown out any vision of the writer sitting at a table ready to sign their latest novel. Take all these respectable people to a separate or differentiated side from the rest, for example in the middle of Plaza Catalunya or in front of the FNAC of l'Illa, so that excessive proximity to works of literature does not cause an excessive eclipse. "Oh, but this influencer has also written a poetry book". And they deserve all respect, of course, but you will understand that even in football there are divisions and we writers are willing to be considered second or third division, compared to them, as long as we have them as far away as possible. I really like Nacho Vidal, but that year when he had a much longer queue than mine at the shared stall, I felt, indeed, playing in another division. Luckily, as for the more corporal queue, the categories would remain to be seen.
For Sant Jordi, it's best that everyone can set up their stall for free, respecting the allocated space (yes) when it's a very busy street, and that literature can have its own extensive area once a year without interference. No, it's not the same as the media-savvy authors thing, because we can all become media-savvy if we become very well-known or best-selling or if we are also likable on social media. It's not that: it's about truly democratizing spaces, so that everyone truly has their opportunity and, simply, to distribute; look, there's space to distribute, between more modest or risky proposals and proposals that simply start with an excessive advantage on screen. If they are to be there, everyone should be there. Without exclusions. But if they really want to organize, organize in such a way that the big one doesn't constantly swallow the small one and that our lovers' festival doesn't become a kind of Calaf market or New York Stock Exchange, where we are only concerned with rankings and the publishers who call the shots. I don't speak as an affected writer, I haven't had any complaints so far, but as a Barcelonian: stalls with the senyera, literature, crowded streets, self-ordered chaos, roses with burst prices at dusk and the smell of petals as we return home. It's priceless.