Memorias de un hombre perdido

"Memory is a form of melancholy," wrote Damián Tabarovsky, and perhaps that statement is the statement that best defines this extraordinary book, Memoirs of a lost man, by Antonio Ferres. Born in March 1924 in Madrid, the author of these singular memoirs is the perfect example of a writer traversed by history. "Traversed," that is, wounded, both built and destroyed. "Happened", it is worth saying, because of that harsh history of Spain that encompasses the Civil War and the long, dry and ruinous years of Francoism to lead to a democratic transition full of shadows and misdirections, in which there is no shortage of disappointments, forgetfulness, contradictions and hypocrisies. Meeting and disagreement of a man, Ferres, with the story that, in his case, acquires special relevance in that it will give rise to one of the most representative features of that long time of misfortune and mediocrity: understanding as action and gesture unique hallmark, in time and place, in desire and will, of anti-Franco political militancy and cultural activities as weapons of resistance and denunciation. Politics and culture without borders. Politics in a revolutionary key and culture with a vocation for commitment. A double face that, in my opinion, gives character to a good part of 20th century Spain.