No French filmmaker had dared to adapt a work into a film until now. The foreigner ofAlbert CamusPerhaps out of respect for this seminal work of modern literature, which is articulated from a subjectivity alienated from conventional forms of socialization, a perspective difficult to translate onto the big screen. François Ozon Ozon transports us to French-occupied Algeria through a stylized black and white that helps reconstruct an idealized image from the French imagination of that colonial period. It is within this image, as beautiful as it is false, that his protagonist, Meursault, is inscribed—the young man who destabilizes this appearance of normality when he murders an Arab boy for what he claims is sunstroke.

I discovered Joan Pons almost 35 years ago, with his narrative debut: the meeting of stories Don't believe what they say about me(Columna, 1991). I found it to be a more than promising literary baptism of fire. Since then, I've continued to follow him and have often commented on his work in the media: The Giraffe Maze(Proa, 1999), Single men(Proa, 2001), The Ice House(Bromera, 2009) or Heart disease(Univers, 2022) are some of his most outstanding books, vigorous novels. Pons excels in what could be called moral adventure novelHis stories always appeal to readers, but the underlying theme tends to probe, if not even accuse, us. As if he were the nephew of Baltasar Porcel or Jesús Moncada. He has experience, things to say. That's why I've never been able to explain why he enjoys so little attention. Why he is, in the country's literary scene, an almost invisible author. In 2016, he debuted as a poet with a commendable book: The Island of the Defeated Trees (AdiA). His titles are scattered across many publishing houses, too many. How is it that no publisher has seriously invested in him?