Torroella reaches the peak of writers per square meter: 55 authors and 1,300 Lent fritters

Torroella de MontgríA heavy tramuntana wind for Easter is a little guilty pleasure for those of us without holidays, a small house, or a boat in Empordà. The bookseller from El Cucut in Torroella de Montgrí, Maria Teresa Calabús, invokes Fages de Climent and asks the Christ of the tramuntana for "give the exact green to our meadow / and measure the right tramuntana / that dries the grass and does not spur our wheat". This Thursday the Lord was magnanimous because no ES-Alert has prevented the famous literary lunch of the bookstore from taking place. I imagined a small family Sant Jordi, being able to leaf through books and chat comfortably, but I find a very high ratio of writers per square meter, with the consequent buyers making it difficult to pass. Fifty-five authors and thirteen hundred homemade Lenten fritters

.I hear Sílvia Soler reciting Fages de Climent beside me because, as her mother was his disciple, they had the poem on a tile at the entrance of their house. She chats with Martí Gironell, one of the instigators of this event, which has consolidated as the first pre-Sant Jordi event "without haste or aggressive queues, without authors having to go anywhere", highlights Calabús. Here the writers are not sitting, exposed, but are chatting and readers have to intercept them on the fly. I look for beef on whether

the festival is like being in a zoo, but it doesn't fly. "I refuse to criticize Sant Jordi. Even with the madness of Barcelona, I find time to talk to readers. Here it is more relaxed, yes. But Sant Jordi is amazing and look, there have been times when I didn't sign much...", says Soler. Eva Piquer is also a radical fan and, obviously, the editor Pilar Beltran, who states that, once the ordeal of the lists is overcome, Aniol Rafel nods beside her. "The book has to be defended all year round, you have to go to bookstores, to clubs, wherever there are people, and then for Sant Jordi they will remember you", recommends Gironell.I see that Regina Rodríguez Sirvent and Gil Pratsobreroca are un-virtualizing with a hug. She confesses to me that her adrenaline is through the roof and she wakes up at 4 every night, but she's having fun. She assures that there is "wonderful camaraderie" among authors: "We don't compete for the lists, it's absurd, this isn't the 100-meter dash," she says from the top of the ranking. Xavier Bosch comes incognito, because he has no new release, and admits to the bookseller that for next year he already sees it as tight. This year he won't be at Sant Jordi in Barcelona: "When you have no new release, you're more of a nuisance than a help," opines Bosch. And he looks at Pratsobrerroca: "He'll be the best seller," he predicts, as if he were Arturo passing the crown. The debutant from Osona confesses that he tries not to stop and think about dizzying figures: he already has 9 editions (50,000 copies), has sold the translation to 9 languages and has 14 production companies interested in adapting the book. "I feel like I have a child and I'm sending him to summer camp for the first time: where will he have the best time?" he wonders. I ask him if it will be summer camp in English: "I'd like it to be in Catalan."

Montse Virgili appears smiling, because she snuck onto the AVE train with a ticket for the wrong day and starred in a spy series so as not to be caught, all to reach a region where there are no little birds. I see familiar faces gathering: Ariadna Oltra and Elisenda Carod tell each other that they haven't read each other yet but have heard each other promoting. "I don't feel like an intruder, I'm a journalist and I've written a portrait about journalism," Oltra tells me, who finds it revealing that we don't have newspapers at hand "not even to make a calçotada," she provokes. "The end of newspapers?" Bosch half-rebukes her. "And so we go, through the rocky path," she replies.

Carlota Gurt arrives troubled at 6 in the afternoon, without eating and in the middle of moving. Oriol Canals explains that this Holy Week he will finish the next book and will deliver it exactly on Tuesday. Jordi Puntí is happy because he has sold a Maletas perdidas —the bookstore has stock from all invited authors—, but he has dedicated himself to writing the article for his colleague Stefanie Kremser's book: "This is the good one," he tells some customers. Rodríguez Sirvent's father has also stood next to his daughter's pile of books to promote it. "He's my salesman. He's even sold a book to Artur Mas," celebrates the daughter. And ARA also celebrates it every year on the cover: Sant Jordi means reading and also loving.