JAVIER MARÍAS A DAD'S SON. WRITER FOR BEING WHO YOU ARE BUT NOTHING BETWEEN TWO COURSES. ALL THIS ROCK OF ENGLISH-SPEAKING ANGLOFILES AND ME WHEN I GO TO PISS I LOOK AT ENGLAND

 JAVIER MARÍAS A DAD'S SON THE NEW DISAMORTIZERS

 

I'm not happy about the death of anyone, but this disheveledness of the incense prayers of lauds with which the girl screams hoarsely occurred as a result of the death of Almudena Grandes, who had everything great, astonishes and overwhelms me. I already said it one day to publish and distribute in Spain you have to be an anti-Francoist, an Anglophile, a Marxist bullfighter who was raised in an American university or the son of Julián Marías. The books of this colleague like those of his father were terribly boring. How heavy my God!

They want to follow a Virginia Wolf vein or pattern but most of the new English novelists are pleonastic, redundant, rumbling, noematic et sine nobilitate - that is snobs - except for Maughan and Stilitoe who wrote Saturday Night and Monday Morning .

But to understand the Spain of the San Juan democracy, all the parents of these robins were fascists (Cebrian, Pradera, Molina Foix, triumphant and roaring writers of the Country) and they became Anglo-Zionists and somewhat stateless and always with a fly in their ear they hate history from Spain.

They send their children to the British School and they run with pleasure talking about the benefits of English democracy.

I was also an Anglophile in my youth - later I regretted it - because I believed that the blonde Albion still had pilgrims from Canterbury who talked with the chatter of the Woman of Bath or knew Shakespeare's sonnets by heart. But not. I met Shylock, Scrooges, Hamlet, the City bankers, libelatic journalism or the Samuel Pepys memorialists who write as if spitting through the fang. In that England presided over by the Hispanophobia of that Lord Beaconfield the Sephardi who swore eternal hatred to the Spanish - Benjamin Disraeli - I had little to do.

So, imitating the great sailor Blas de Lezo, when I go to watch I look at England and when I go to fuck I look at Toledo.

 Yes, these sons of fathers were proclaimed novelists against the grain but you went to their books and you had to fuck her with cigarette papers. Many ranflante and bombastic names, anti-Francoists and life-long democrats, exhibiting the pranks of our national life when we were happier and lived more united. Nothing between two plates.

Since then I have realized that the sons of Mendizábal, the new disentailers, have returned. Spain betraying her own history. Spain dragging a converted and Jewish past. God gave me encouragement but all this riffraff I survived. that's where the shots go, that's how it is. To them I am nothing more than an outlaw.