Ran de bàratre

A book of stories with a turgid voice that has relief. A simple, efficient, biting Catalan, even one that adapts to the altered reality it describes. Headless novelists who no longer want to write, apocalyptic floods that end with a poem by Maragall, the sky turned into a golf course. The acidity of the author's ironic writing dispels the reality of the bright, shiny colors that want to avoid the confusion of a world that has lost its meaning and is only its own stridency. An insightful voice that seems, for a moment, to have lost its sanity, but that never loses its subtle and penetrating gaze in order to face our most banal terrors, our harshest miseries, our loneliness more secret, the ups and downs that make us up every day. A sharp tongue, which seeks a sharp credibility, and at the same time is caustic, farcical and corrosive.