How difficult it is to externalize certain intimate feelings and thoughts. And how difficult it is also to translate these inner processes to the screen. It's not enough to simply show a character occasionally sitting on a bed in a bedroom, staring out the window with a questioning expression. For images to resonate with the viewers watching them (and those of The little daughter They have been a phenomenon in France, where they have dominated conversations beyond film circles) and must portray fragments of a life in which everyone feels represented. Is this the case with the life of Fatima Daas, the protagonist and author of the book on which this film is based?

Claire Lynch's (Dartford, England, 1981) debut novel is one of those books destined to find its way through word of mouth. In fact, A family matter It is not even a year old and already has half a dozen translations (in Catalan it is published by Edicions del Periscopi, translated by Núria Saurina, and in Spanish by Literatura Random House). A family matter It's as delightful to read as it is infuriating. It deals with great literary conflicts—love, loyalty, freedom, family secrets—but embedded within ordinary lives, with the trivial and harmless familiarity of very human and imperfect characters, and with a deceptive literary simplicity that poses moral dilemmas to the reader.

The guided tour The origins of LGBTQIA+ activism in Girona It premiered last Monday as part of the Girona fair program, but it's an activity that will continue independently of the fairs, with the intention of holding it four times a year. The next tour is scheduled for Saturday, November 29th at 11:00 AM; all places are already reserved and there's a waiting list. Given the success of the first two tours, four visits a year might not be enough.

A love story between two very different women that erupts in the summer of 1961 in an isolated house in the Netherlands. Isabel is a repressed, Calvinist woman, and Eva is Jewish, extroverted, and dresses flashy. These are enough elements to build an intrigue, but Yael van der Wouden's (Tel-Aviv, 1987) debut fiction novel goes much further: it speaks of desire and sex, but also of the legacy of history and what happens when we are complicit with the perpetrators. Writers such as Maggie O'Farrell and Tracy Chevalier have praised The guardian, which won the Women's Prize and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. Van der Wouden, who has lived in the Netherlands since she was ten, is now writing a new novel about a woman seeking a divorce in 1929. The guardian It is published by Amsterdam in Catalan, translated by Anna Carreras, and by Salamadra in Spanish.

"And you, how many lesbians do you know?" The question is asked by Isabel Franc, lesbian writer and activist, co-author with Rosa Navarro of Behind the blinds, a comic about the silence that has historically surrounded lesbianism. In fact, trans women and gay men were the only faces of Franco's repression and the fight for the rights of the LGBTQ+ community, which has gained acronyms over the years. In the images from the period that photographers like Colita did in the first demonstrations at the end of the 70s, lesbian women (those that refer to the L) do not appear. "Trans women stood up "because they had nothing to lose and were already visible," Franc replies.