Necrocatalanomicrón

Necrocatalanomicón is an ultra-apocalyptic, coarse and aberrant essay, albeit illuminated by flashes of pure genius, on Catalan society and culture. It's fucking fun. Even dangerously funny. In his native Catalonia, Valero is a character adored by many, but hated to death by many, many more. But the one who hurts this book the most is Valero himself. What more would he have wanted than not to have this clairvoyance and this mission, to illuminate a land that does not question the correctness or not of the choice of the donkey as a national symbol (a donkey, a fucking donkey), or that does not even consider see if there is not a little more friction than necessary when it comes to raising the castellers. And yes, this book is a brutal, ruthless satire of the Catalans, but also a love letter to them. Because exorcising the collective demons in a coven of laughter and revivifying hatred is something very hygienic and necessary for any society. I wish there was a Valero Sanmartí in every town.