The death of the mother of French writer Emmanuel Carrère It had to culminate in a book. The inevitable recollection of the past that accompanies the death of a parent was the lever that propelled him, once he had digested the highly sensitive material, to write the mixture of chronicle and family autobiography that is KolkhozA book full of surprising relatives—Carrère has a cousin who is the president of Georgia!—and in which he himself would be like a kind of first cousin ofA Russian novel and of Limonov, two of the peaks of Carrère's work. With a translation by Ferran Ràfols Gesa that sounds wonderful, Kolkhoz It revisits Russian themes and even brings back some of the characters from those books, but it plays on different ground, that of family history linked to the history of the 20th century: can the description of a private room tell of a historical shift? In the land of Georges Duby, the answer is "of course," and Carrère proves it beyond a doubt.

"Can I live with you again in the years we didn't share?" the narrator asks. Relic, third book that Polo Guasch (Tarragona, 1997) published by Anagrama. For the first time in his career, narrator and author coincide, and it is Pol himself who poses this question, addressed to his father. Relic It begins with the impact of his suicide on January 13, 2013, when he was only 44 years old, and from there it is his son who tries to understand an action that marked a before and after in his family. It is the first time that the author of Napalm in the heart (Anagrama, 2021) and Offered in your hands, the cream paradise (Anagrama, 2024) publicly addresses such a complex and delicate private matter, but succeeds thanks to the transformative power that good literature sometimes possesses.

"If you ask ChatGPT to define the work and style of Carlota GurtHe will tell her: “Her style is characterized by precise, yet intimate prose that invites reflection on feelings, loneliness, and the search for meaning in everyday life.” After reading The moors"This will confirm that, fortunately for her and her readers, Gurt's prose is much more than that," says Sergi Pàmies, one of the seven members of the jury for the eleventh Anagrama Books Prize – worth 12,000 euros – which has chosen Gurt's novel from among the 66 original works that define themselves as "Mixed"tour de force "narrative against the wastelands of the modern world, or how good fiction can prevail over reality." And just as he was about to elaborate on his interpretation, the Civil Protection alarm sounded, warning of torrential rains, and Casacuberta and everyone attending the press conference had to rush to silence their cell phones. "BK_S_!" exclaimed Gurt after bursting into euphoric laughter. "I set off this alarm myself." After a short pause, he offered a brief summary of the book:The moors It was born when I went to Sau at a time when the reservoir was at 2%. It's a novel about climatic, emotional, professional, and sexual drought through two characters, Fausto and Ramona, whom we follow in parallel until, improbably, they meet."

If years ago we lamented the almost complete absence of books that addressed exclusively female issues such as motherhood, menstruation, perinatal grief, or menopause, now, so to speak, we can complain of the exact opposite, because everywhere you look there are a dozen that deal with them. I say this to provoke, obviously, because "feminizing" literature was absolutely necessary.

He wears a sweater as gray as his hair while speaking calmly, as if what he is about to say is a matter of life or death. Juan Tallón (Vilardevós, 1975) has just published A thousand things (Anagrama), a chilling novel due to the sheer amount of reality it contains. While other books by the author abound in metafiction and defeat, in the case of A thousand things —starring a couple with a child who can't balance work and family life— is a collective defeat.

Kiko Amat (Sant Boi de Llobregat, 1971) has more than a hundred tattoos and, while he talks, he adjusts his mustache and earrings. He says he likes the constant repetition of movements, like the jokes and words that recur in his books and the movies he revisits over and over again, and it has always worked for him. He speaks out against "series culture" in his podcast. Pop and Death, published his latest book in February, Dick or the sadness of sex (Anagrama), and this November will be one of the representatives of Barcelona literature at the Guadalajara International Book Fair.

Natalia Castro Picón (Menorca, 1989), professor of Spanish and contemporary culture at Princeton, has won the 53rd Anagrama essay prize with The end of the world partyThe book offers a hopeful reading of Spain's most recent past. Castro analyzes the two major crises of recent times: the economic crisis of 2008 and the pandemic of 2020, and all the conflicts that have occurred in between: the decline of democracy, the ecological crisis, the resurgence of fascism, racism, the war on women... Castro Picón analyzes interpretations of literature, film, music, the performing arts, and comics and asks what we're talking about when we talk about the end of the world.

The popularity of Mariana Enriquez (Buenos Aires, 1973) has continued to grow worldwide over the last decade. This week, dozens of readers of the Argentine author were left outside the new La Central bookstore in Consell de Cent, where she was presenting the reissue of the novel. How to disappear completelyPublished in 2004 and now republished by Anagrama, it delves into the life of a teenager, Matías, who becomes obsessed with the idea of fleeing Buenos Aires, in part because he has an older brother living in Barcelona. The discovery of a packet of cocaine could be the stroke of luck he's been waiting for.

Philosopher and novelist Arià Paco (Igualada, 1993) has found in fiction the medium to explore the relationships of his generation. After receiving the Roc Boronat Award in 2022 for Coward, old woman, so wild (Amsterdam), the writer has been awarded this year with the 10th Anagrama Books for his third novel, Game theory, which traces how a Catalan millennium lives and thinks – and overthinks – guilt and desire.

Although it may seem so, this title has nothing to do with me, but with a person with that surname – my mother's, in this case – whom this guy doesn't have the honor of knowing: Esther García Llovet. There are a lot of lovetos, and even more so of cuffs, which is how it should be written. The girl who bears that name wrote on her own, if you can put it that way; no publisher had ever asked her to write a book with the idea of making money or with the hope of awarding her a prize, since there are fewer Spanish languages than Catalan, although the population that speaks that language is much larger.

Perhaps because he lives a hundred meters from the Colosseum, always infested with tourists, the journalist and writer Marco de Eramo (Rome, 1947) has ended up dedicating an essay to him. The world's selfie (Anagrama; translated into Spanish by Xavier González Rovira) delves into "the most important industry of our time," in the author's words. "Just two centuries ago, no one could have foreseen that we would spend so much money and so much time traveling," he explains. According to Marco de Eramo, who recently visited the CCCB, tourism was made possible thanks to two revolutions: "The first, the technological revolution in transportation. The first person to dedicate a book to the experience of traveling on a cruise was Mark Twain. The innocents abroad [The Innocents Abroad] (1867-1869) is well worthwhile." The second revolution has to do with social conquests resulting from the class struggle: "If transport made it possible to move physically, paid free time and, later, the pension system made it possible for tourism to become democratized. It is important not to forget that tourism was the result of a political struggle. If at first only the elites could afford luxuries such as Grand Tour, tourism expanded to increasingly broader layers of society, until reaching the current tourism low cost".

One of the first things I learned to do when I was a teenager, and my parents finally put a chunky computer on my bedroom desk, was to figure out which set of three keys to press to make the programs I was using suddenly close. That way, when I heard my mom's footsteps approaching my door, with a flick of my wrist I could quickly make that blog I had when I wasn't allowed to blog, or that messaging app I used to chat when I wasn't allowed to chat, disappear.

Two of the questions poet Mario Obrero is often asked are: how come you're only 21 (and have six published books) and why a kid from Getafe speaks Galician and Catalan so well. He has no answer to the first—"you should ask my mother," he says—but he does to the second: "I realized a void I had as a Madrilenian and a Spaniard. There's no problem if I eat a pan of bread or an ensaimada or some Padrón peppers, but getting to the point of saying 'good morning' or 'good morning» It seemed like it was a heresy. Coming from such a monolingual background, I discovered that I have accent mallet and this curiously also brought me closer to other languages. Just like Virginia Woolf I demanded my own room centuries ago, because I was interested in my own language because it allowed me to participate in an identity that isn't far from me. After all, I studied at a public school called Concepción Arenal, a Galician feminist school, and the town on the Getafe side is called Parla," she explains in Barcelona, ​​where she presented the poetry collection. Magical times (Beautiful Warsaw) at the Poetry Festival.

American author Kay Hymowitz wrote the essay Manning up In 2011, Hymowitz describes a new stage of life, pre-adulthood, a period between adolescence and adulthood, which she links to prolonged education, difficulty accessing credit, postponing family formation, and the digital leisure culture. Hymowitz describes how this new phenomenon has had a more negative impact on men, since women have a clearer biological clock, which warns us when it's time for pre-adulthood to end. It should not be forgotten that access to a well-paid job or owning a home have become undertakings worthy of Frodo Saquet and the Fellowship of the Ring. Hymowitz then argues that, without a clear life plan, many young men easily become trapped in a "man-creature" culture: they enjoy the privileges of adulthood (sex, consumption, freedom of movement) but avoid the obligations (own finances, family, caregiving).

Anagrama publishing house issued a statement this Wednesday announcing that it is terminating the publishing contract for the publication and distribution of the book. Hate, where the writer Luisgé Martín collects the letters he exchanged with José Bretón in which he confesses to the murder of his two children. These facts he had not acknowledged until now and for which he is serving a prison sentence. Thus, the publisher definitively renounces it and will not publish the book, which has caused a strong controversy after the case reached the courts.

1) I don't recall there being so much talk about a book that hasn't yet been published and distributed, and therefore hasn't yet been read by its potential readers. At least in Spain. The book in question is titled Hate and its author is the writer Luisgé Martín (Madrid, 1962), an author with several published novels to his credit. This title came to our attention when the media announced last week that a judge had suspended its publication for alleged interference in the right to honor, privacy, and self-image of the mother of the children murdered by their father more than a decade ago. The legal services of the publishing company itself, in turn, would be the ones to decide whether or not to respect the judges' decision. In a word, its distribution was illegal. A few days later, a court in Barcelona was considering whether to halt the publication of HateAt the time of writing this article, it is still unknown whether Hate whether it will be distributed or not, and therefore whether it can be read. The latest we know is that the publisher has suspended publication "indefinitely."

Anagrama publishing house will indefinitely suspend the publication of the book. Hate, in which the author Luisgé Martín collects the letters he exchanged with José Bretón, in which he confesses to the murder of his two children, for which he is serving a prison sentence. The day after the book was scheduled to go on sale, the publisher defended its decision as "an exercise of prudence" despite the fact that the judge had ruled out arresting him. In fact, the court rejected the request of the Juvenile Prosecutor's Office, which advocated that the book not be published to avoid the "serious and imminent risk of unlawful interference with the children's right to honor" and privacy.

The Barcelona Juvenile Prosecutor's Office has appealed the decision of the court of first instance, which on Monday denied a precautionary halt to the distribution of the book. Hate, by Luisgé Martín, in which José Bretón confesses to the murder of his two children in 2011 and reveals intimate details about the children's mother, Ruth Ortiz. Following the murders, Ortiz led the judicial fight to classify vicarious violence (that which hits children for harming their mothers) as a type of gender-based violence.

In a statement, the publishing house Anagrama, we read in our newspaper, "defends its right to publish the bookHate, in which José Bretón confesses to the murder of his two sons." This comes after the children's mother managed to stop the book from being published. "We reaffirm our commitment to editorial responsibility and freedom of expression, knowing that the two must coexist; and in this sense, we understand that literature can and should address these issues without ignoring the complexity they represent," they wrote.

Anagrama defends its "right" to publish the book Hate, in which José Bretón confesses to the murder of his two sons. In a statement released this Friday, after the work's release was suspended this week Written by Lusigé Martín, which also prompted warnings from the Prosecutor's Office, the publisher admits the "sensitivity" that the book's content may provoke, but appeals to the constitutional right to "literary creation" and adds: "We reaffirm our commitment to editorial responsibility and freedom of expression, knowing that the two must coexist and must coexist; the complexity that they represent."