Sin tiempo para el adiós

The 20th century is traversed by continuous and dramatic exoduses that go hand in hand, without ceasing. Writers, artists and intellectuals, of the most diverse nationalities and origins, escape from totalitarianisms, from racial and political persecutions, from wars, from deportations and internments in concentration camps and, in general, from barbarism and gigantic 'oceans of hate', as Robert Musil would call them. 'Saying goodbye is a difficult and bitter art' will say on the part of him Stefan Zweig at the funeral of his equally exiled friend Joseph Roth. "The exile is the one devoured by history," will add the Spanish philosopher María Zambrano. If in her acclaimed book On the borders of Europe (Galaxia Gutenberg, 2015), a 'spiritual atlas', in the words of Claudio Magris, Mercedes Monmany made an exhaustive review of the European literature of the 20th and 21st centuries, and in You Know I will return analyzed the last days and works left by several writers who died in Auschwitz (Irène Némirovsky, Gertrud Kolmar and Etty Hillesum), in Sin tiempo para el adiós he directs his eyes to some of the greatest European creators of the last century who saw each other forced to undertake the painful path of exile. There would be anti-Nazis Germans like Thomas and Klaus Mann, Alfred Döblin and Hannah Arendt, Austrians like Robert Musil, Joseph Roth and Franz Werfel, Russians fleeing Soviet tyranny like Nabokov and Joseph Brodsky, confined from the Musolinian era like Pavese and Natalia Ginzburg , Spaniards exiled after the Civil War like María Zambrano, Luis Cernuda or Chaves Nogales, Poles like Witold Gombrowicz and the Nobel Prize for Literature Czesaw Miosz or escaped to the United States due to the incessant waves of anti-Semitism and the catastrophe of the Holocaust like Isaac Bashevis Singer and Henry Roth.