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.

There has been a lot of literature – or meta-literature – about the process of writing a book. These writers suffer for every sentence, drunk or drugged, secreting an infinite pain in having to produce a text with the doses of originality or at least formal gravity and drama that justify their herculean effort. Dick or the sadness of sex, instead, I imagine its author, Kiko Amat, having a great time with his writing. Because although what is addressed is an outrageously traumatic sexual experience, the author's intention and the resources he puts at his service are still completely humorous.