A mesmerizingly good read. Honest, challenging, frustrating, and transformative. Hold on, are you up talking about someone’s diary?
Josep Pla begins writing on March 8, 1918 when they shut the university down in Barcelona because of the Spanish Influenza. He returns home to small town Palafrugell, in Cataluña. He was about to begin his last year of law when his world turned upside down. Sound relative?
The first thing is obvious. He is a poor, 21-year old student and he does rant about this. He suffers from drinking too much, gambling, smoking and carousing with his friends, but when it comes to love, alas, he has much to learn.
“The young ladies are inpenetrable, insoluble, impossible, unattainable, unapproachable, untouchable, intangible, and irreducible. Exhaustion kills enchantment and the time comes when you doubt they really exist.” (8 December 1918) A sad lament.
However, there is a lot that he does go on about and that is good for us, dear readers. During this time, Germany loses the war. Spain remained neutral although everyone took sides. And of course, the fight between communism, anarchism and capitalism was starting to appear everywhere, especially in Spain.
Above all, Pla is an observer of the human condition. The stories he tells of his friends, neighbours and well-known characters in the community show his growing talent as a writer. And this is the transformative part.
In 1919 he returns to his studies in Barcelona. He joins the Atheneum, a meeting place for artists and writers, he meets Dalmau, owner of the gallery and he hears of Juan Gris. Things are looking up. Then some advice from some of the members leads to a door opening for our young man. Journalism.
At the heart of the book is, literature. Throughout his connections he is thrust into a new movement, Noucentisme, a Catalan reaction against Modernism. This bodes well for us. At one point he rails against the novel. “Endings disappoint and are predictable.” Yet there was a certain writer that sparked interest in Barcelona, Marcel Proust.
Proust uses memory to recall, reinvent, return to what is essentially, a chronicle of the past (sure add in some fictitious characters). Can we call Proust’s work a diary? Maybe? Suddenly, Pla, who has been faithfully writing down his thoughts, images, and recollections of the past days events, has been thrust into the realm of Proust.
The transformation occurs when some of Pla’s short events are described as longer stories. The latter part of the diary of 1919 starts to evolve.
The most memorable is story is a night that Pla spent in Girona. He decided to catch the 6 am express to Barcelona, and in doing so, stayed up all night till the ticket booth opened at 5 am. He was a student and didn’t want to spend money on a hotel. He bumps into an old friend and another story evolves from their past, involving a trip to a brothel when they were 15. Now his friend is married. He finds a late night restaurant connected to a gambling house to find some food. Ah, the crazy days of youth!
At one point, Pla writes that we should take the time to read his diary. At first, this is good advice. Then as the stories evolve, we have no choice. And that is also the transformative part that is good for us. His stories grab us.
Pla is a both country and city person. His keen observations placed me right there in time and place. I learned a lot about Catalan life and people, not to mention the duality of these people living in Spain. French lifestyle was a huge influence. In short, a gratifying read.
I will leave you an entry, “Historians want us to believe that history is grand. The history we have lived and are now living isn’t at all; in fact, it is quite the contrary.” Some diaries need to be read.