'Life and Illusions', by Pere Rovira

We like to emphasize the fact that Pere Rovira is an excellent writer, undoubtedly one of the best writing in Catalan today. He recently published, with the Proa publishing house, the volume Life and Illusions, a new installment of his diaries, which include milestones of autobiographical literature such as Daily without days (2004), Vermeer's Window (2016) and Music and pulse (2019). Rovira is also an excellent poet, as evidenced in the volume of his collected poems. Today is always (2022), and in each of his books of verse, which he composes slowly, at intervals. One must also read the two novels he has published so far (Crazy love, from 2007, and The Father's Wars(from 2013). And his translations from French are a joy: Ronsard (Ronsard's Roses), 2009), Baudelaire (The Flowers of Evil, 2021) or the anthology French garden. From Villon to Rimbaud (2016). Without prejudice to the work, let's say youth (the books of poems collected in the volume Poetry 1979-2004)It can be said that the best of Pere Rovira's writing, born in 1947, has been known since his fifties.

Life and Illusions It's a diary with days: specifically those of 2022, the year the author turned seventy-five, from January 1st to December 31st. Each day has its own entry, and so we read that Pere Rovira began the year with arduous tribulations to get his ID card in Catalan: he had to request a modified birth certificate from the Civil Registry of Vila-seca, his hometown, and obtain an academic document from the Institut d'Estudis Catalans—issued by the commission—providing the Catalan equivalent of the Spanish name Pedro. A story that may seem quaint, but which gives an idea of the enduring legacy of Francoism, in this case in its administrative aspect. "If I had to call myself Pedro, it was because when I was born, Francoism prohibited being called Pedro." The entry for the last day of the year is one of the most beautiful and moving (if I may use these two adjectives) I have read in a long time. I'll resist the urge to reproduce any excerpts: go read it in the book. I can tell you that it's about love, the passage of time, and accepting aging.

In general, Life and Illusions It's about that: a phenomenology of the passage of time, or, to put it another way, the small and large things that, day after day, make up life. You might think it's an imprecise argument, but all arguments are: the goodness of a book doesn't depend on the topics it addresses, but on the writer's skill in tackling them, on their talent. Pere Rovira's is enormous, but instead of overflowing and overwhelming us, it flows, channeled through the channels of memory. Literature, music, film, the contemplation of the Delta, an encounter with his children. These are all the important things, and they all slip away, as if they were mirages. Unless someone comes along and leaves behind the only thing that remains, which is words.