The passage of time has not diminished the shyness of Jean Echenoz, but it has not managed to turn him into a cynical or disenchanted author. Born in Orange in 1947, the French writer has been one of the headliners of this year's Mot festival, but before that he passed through Barcelona with a new book in hand. Bristol (Raig Verd, 2026; translation by Anna Casassas) narrates decisive months in the life of Robert Bristol, a film director who is finishing the shoot of his latest film. It features effervescent, established, and semi-retired actresses, a solicitous but inconstant lover, an inspired policeman, a blackmailing general from South Africa, a bestselling author living in a palace, and a long list of supporting characters, human and animal, who further expand Echenoz's universe. The usual taste for details, the author's undeniable skill, and a sense of humor more subtle than our times make Bristol a pleasant and recommendable reading experience.

When I was little, an adult tried to snap me out of some fanciful thoughts I was absorbed in and shouted at me, "Life isn't a movie!" The phrase upset me so much that I still think about it several times a week, even though I'm 31. I don't know if life is a movie or not. The older I get, the less certain I am. In any case, it happens very often that daily life strives to resemble a film production, one that I find rather cheap and excessively dramatic. I suppose that's why I enjoyed reading Bristol boardFrom the French author Jean Echenoz (Orange, 1947), published by Rayo Verde. Not only because the main character is a mediocre filmmaker and much of the plot revolves around his work, but also because of the parallel between the ordinary human gaze and the cinematic gaze.

The journey is one of the foundational myths of literary history. Literally, it represents the adventure of leaving or returning home, and metaphorically, it encapsulates the full meaning of any form of inner experience involving personal movement or evolution.Odyssey from Homer to theUlysses by James Joyce. From Quixote From Cervantes to the adventures of Jules Verne. From Goethe's coming-of-age novels to Mark Twain's picaresque tales. From Moby Dick Melville's journey through the paradises of Aurora Bertrana...

Xavier Grasset's first French kiss was with a hamburger. "With a girl from Hamburg," the journalist explained, recalling that elusive yet unforgettable first summer love. He confessed this to the audience at Ver-MOT, held during vermouth time on the terrace of the Taberna de El Foment in Girona as part of the MOT literary festival, this year dedicated to love in all its forms and meanings. Grasset shared a conversation with two authors of a debut book: journalist Agnès Marquès, who has published the novel Nobody knows I'm here, and Glòria Gasch, editor who has jumped to the other side of the profession, that of authors, with the publication ofNow, and every morningThey had to be the authors of a first book because it was about discussing "the first time" in literature and in life. Agnès Marquès explained the reason for her debut as a novelist: "I dedicate myself to journalism because I like to tell stories, and in literature, stories are also told, in this case through the artifice of fiction. They are connecting vessels." But the natural transition from journalism to literature did not prevent her from experiencing the vertigo of a blank page, the obsession with rewriting the text, and the doubts about what she had written, which editor Gloria Gasch (in her role as editor of Columna) dispelled with encouraging advice: Marquès also discovered the fear of the last moment, when the book is at the printers and there is no possibility of amendment: "Can't we stop the machines?"