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Ciudad doliente de Dios y Una rosa / My books

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Al fin puede encontrarse mi novela Ciudad doliente de Dios en la Cafebrería El Péndulo. Por errores administrativos tardó dos años en llegar, pero llegó:

Les cuento también que aún quedan ejemplares de mi poemario Una rosa, publicado por Ediciones sin nombre en 2010. Se pueden adquirir directamente con la editorial, en este enlace: http://www.edicionessinnombre.com/contacto/

My novel Ciudad doliente de Dios took a long while to reach the El Péndulo bookshops in Mexico, but it is finally there. 

I’ve also heard that there are still copies of my poetry book Una rosa, which can be bought directly with the publishers in the link above.

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Recordando a Rita, diez años después / Remembering Rita, ten years on

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A Rita Guerrero (22 de mayo de 1964 – 11 de marzo de 2011)

Otra vez la primavera, la promesa de cielos claros, el mundo que despierta y que florece. 

Diez años ya, Rita, desde que nos dejaste, suspendidos en el dolor y la incredulidad mientras todo alrededor hablaba de vida. El tiempo se ha convertido en otra cosa desde entonces. Es imposible creer que son diez años, pero es quizá que la muerte simplemente borra cifras, nuestras formas de medir el tiempo, que es maleable y abstracto, reconocible nada más por el movimiento de la tierra que es un misterio mayor.

La verdad es que no nos has dejado. Estás siempre aquí. La belleza que creaste sigue alimentando a infinidad de personas de distintas generaciones. El cariño y la admiración de tantos son los frutos de tanto árbol inmaterial que sembraste con tu voz, con tu generosidad y con tu amor. En cuanto a mí, estás aquí, cercana y presente, siempre. Te extraño, y diez años no me han bastado para empezar a entender siquiera qué pasó, en dónde estás aparte de aquí, en mi corazón, en mi vida… pero entonces entender ya no es tan importante, ¿verdad? Si estás aquí. También en mí dejaste muchos frutos, y todo lo que aprendí durante nuestra amistad tan larga, tan hermosa, trato de honrarlo. Tu amor por la vida es una luz y una guía. No olvido nada, y aquí estoy, celebrando la primavera, celebrándola contigo, y seguramente con todos los que te queremos.

Solo espero que este recordarte, extrañarte, sentirte presente sea ligero tanto como es hondo – que no te perturbe ahí donde estás. No puedo imaginar que estés en nada, en ningún lugar o forma de existencia que no sea belleza, serenidad, alegría. Ahí es a donde va dirigido este mensaje. Descansa, Rita, en la paz de este mundo que florece, sus misteriosas conexiones con el otro. Y gracias. Por siempre, gracias.

 

Spring again, the promise of clear skies, the world awakening, in bloom.  

Ten years, Rita, since you left us, suspended in grief and disbelief while everything around talked of life. Time has become something else since then. It is impossible to believe that it’s ten years, but perhaps what happens is that death simply rubs numbers off, dissolves our ways of measuring time, which is malleable and abstract, recognisable only througth the earth’s movement, which is an even bigger mystery.

The truth is you haven’t left us. You’re always here. The beauty you created is still nourishing numberless people of different generations. The love and admiration of so many are the fruits of all those immaterial trees you planted with your voice, your generosity and your love. As for me, you are here, near and present, always. I miss you, and ten years haven’t been enough for me to even begin to understand what happened, where are you apart from here, in my heart and my life… but then understanding is not so important anymore, is it? If you are here. You left many fruits in me as well, and everything I learnt during our long and beautiful friendship, I try to honour. Your love for life is a guiding light. I don’t forget anything, and here I am, celebrating springtime, celebrating it with you and surely with all those who love you.

I can only hope that this remembering, missing you, feeling you present is as light as it is deep – that it won’t trouble you there where you are now. I cannot imagine that you are in anything, anywhere or in any form of existence that isn’t beauty, serenity and joy. That’s where this message is addressed to. Rest, Rita, in the peace of this world in bloom, and its mysterious conexions with the other one. And thank you. Forever, thank you.

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Spring again, and ‘Flint’

Last spring I published my ebook Flint. As I then explained, I wanted a book which had been written in the spring of 2019 to be out in the world in spring as well, since springtime throughout its pages acts as an embodiment of hope. I felt we were in dire need of that at the beginning of the pandemic.

I also had hoped that by the time we reached this date, March 2021, the piece would have found a publisher and become a proper printed book. It hasn’t worked that way, but I still hope it will happen one day. In whatever form, the book was born as, and still is, an offering that wishes to honour the preciousness of life, and a heartfelt way to say rest in peace to the two men to which it’s dedicated: Keith Flint and Armando Vega GIl, who both left us in springtime, 2019, on the 4th of March and the 1st of April respectively.

A third part of any proceeds it makes will go to the National Suicide Prevention Alliance, another third to the NHS. 

It can be bought as a PDF here, or as an epub in Barnes & Noble, here.

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Sobre “Ciudad doliente de Dios” y los grandes consorcios editoriales

Hoy salió publicada en Literal Magazine una crónica sobre las dificultades que encontró mi novela Ciudad doliente de Dios en manos del gran consorcio editorial Penguin Random House Alfaguara.

Puedes leerla aquí.

La novela puede adquirirse en este enlace.

I’ve published an article in Literal Magazine (in Spanish) about the difficult journey of my novel Ciudad doliente de Dios at the hands of a huge publishing company.