The bonhomies

It is one hundred years since the publication ofThe bonhomiesby Josep Carner and last week Carner Evenings were held at the Library of Catalonia on the anniversary, because in 1925 Carner published, in addition toThe bonhomies,The still heartand a translation of theRobinson Crusoe.

I was fortunate enough to be able to participate with Ignasi Aragay, deputy editor of this newspaper, in one of the panels dedicated to the book, and I must say the room was quite empty of people, at least on my afternoon. No readers, not even philology students. Very sad, but not unusual in the country of the collapsed school, which is like saying a cultural free fall. The last edition of this book, as far as I know, is a quarter of a century old. The Carner Year (2020-2021) was celebrated, and there have been these afternoons, but the book is untraceable. The country's hypocritical pride never fails, or perhaps it's that in moral terms, hypocrisy is the last thing we have left.

When Carner referred to this country in a poem as "a tattered / once flag", I believe he meant the word tatters He was referring precisely to hypocrisy. The best Catalan writer of the 20th century (also in my opinion), whose best book can only be found in secondhand bookstores, experienced firsthand one of the cyclical revivals of our culture, which periodically seems to have to break out and offer the world all its fruits. Vain illusions: those who have believed are always left with nothing.

Sometimes considered a superficial ironist, Carner often faced the pain of not speaking clearly in that terrible land of unexcavated graves.The bonhomiesas in the prologue toNext yearIn the same year, 1925, Carner insisted that "we Catalans are obvious." My interpretation is that the obviousness he reproached us for is precisely the implication that always accompanies hypocrisy. Because lying, which has innocent victims, is one thing, and hypocrisy, which involves a "make-believe" in which everyone participates, is quite another.

Carner must have seen himself as a civilized Robinson Crusoe among barbarians, and that's why he translated it; he must have known himself, deep down, a prophet or a prophet that no one listens to or cares about, yesterday as today. He said it while already in exile in Genoa with these articles.The Voice of Catalonia, with a voice as polite and severe as it was apparently kind, which in a more serious and committed country today would be a good, updated model for trying to escape so much sterile chatter.