The Second Death of Josep Palàcios

The first death of the Valencian writer Josep Palàcios was a conscious passing, when ---after having won awards such as the València, the Crítica del País Valencià, or the Serra d'or--- the author from Sueca decided to disappear from the map and from the general literary nonsense to dedicate himself to writing (and above all, to rewriting!) one of the most extraordinary works of recent Catalan literature. Of Josep Palàcios, in general, we have only been able to utter four vague statements; that he was our Pynchon, due to his militant eremitism, that he was the only recognized student of Joan Fuster, with whom he translated some great works by Camus, and that we are facing one of the most cryptic and special works of our literature. The author contributed to all this because, like Heraclitus' nature, he liked to hide with undisguised coquetry, he shunned specific genres to mix them all, and he violated the dictionary to incomprehensible limits.

Many of us discovered Palacian prose thanks to some members of his sect ---such as Antoni Martí Monterde, Jaime C. Pons Alorda, Xavier Aliaga, and my dear Ponç Puigdevall---, especially following the publication of the two volumes of La Imatge (2013), a rewritten compilation of his previous work and one of the fundamental texts of our literary history. What does Palàcios tell us? Well, we never quite know. What genre does he use to gloss his radical solitude and the company of his favorite writers and musicians? We don't fully intuit that either, because he mastered them all and shunned them at the same time. How, in short, to gloss an author who shuns the prison of the label? Well, by reading and sharing him, what other remedy do we have left: "Molts voldrien, patriòticament, que la meva pàtria fos la d'ells. Però, de fet, la meva "pàtria" és una altra de la qual jo soc l'exiliat, i deu existir, no perquè jo la "senti" com a pròpia, sinó perquè sento l'exili."

Now that Sant Jordi is approaching, and all bookstores are overflowing with shitty little novels dictated by television presenters and Sunday writers (as our Mercè would say), recommending that readers delve into the prose of La Imatge, a book about existential twilight and darkness, might seem somewhat reckless. But I tend to think that, just as humans like to eat well-cooked dishes, we should try our best to ingest quality literature... no matter how much effort it demands from us. This is the path that Palàcios traced and recommends to us; "You, go out into the street. Start shooting upwards. Transform yourself into a lizard. Throw yourself into living in the sewers. In the end, after swimming among all imaginable filth and feeding on it, the sea will open before you." Those looking for pleasant and complacent literature, as you can see, should go elsewhere. Those who like to enjoy suffering, choose Palàcios.

To read Josep Palàcios you will need to retrieve the dictionary of our language

Despite the magnificent work of those responsible for the Publications of the University of Valencia,that have edited the last palatial volumes with extreme care, I would say thatthe writer from Sueca would need editions that can reach more bookstores and in more comfortable formats for the reader.Only then can we work the miracle and move our literature away from stories and thoughts that only want to be pleasant: "I will not have succeeded in knowing how to write if, at one point or another in my discourse ---I leave the choice to your taste, if we continue talking about literature---, I have not made you close your eyes in aversion to what you will have seen there." The work of expanding this author's reach will not be easy, starting with the fact that no governmental institution of thePaïsos Catalans(bothGeneralitiesand their respective cultural sectors) announced Palàcios' death not even with a simple tweet, thus certifying the illiterate condition of our ruling sect.

Listen to me. Whether to survive this Sant Jordi nonsense or to brighten (by suffering) your reading life, rush to discover this immense author. See how much it will help you, that to read him you will need to retrieve the dictionary of our language. Let us celebrate, then, the second death of Josep Palàcios. And let us pray that, thanks to the morbid necrophilia of this horrifying country of ours, this bodily passing will grant him a first life.