Writing unites books and establishes their links. These two volumes coincide in bookstores and discuss how to capture life beyond an established schedule. From a scaffolding or from an island, these titles coincide in the search for meaning in everyday life.
One begins to read Diary of a Peon, by Thierry Metz (Paris, 1956-1997), with a sinking soul after reviewing the author's presentation flap. It shows an image of him in black and white with his hands in his pockets and a flower in the buttonhole of his shirt. His face, dark and weathered, seems to smile. The self-taught poet made a living working in factories, slaughterhouses and construction. The death of a son when he was eight years old took him to a place from which he would not leave – alcoholism, psychiatric admissions and suicide.
While interned, he wrote the last of his fourteen collections of poems, L'homme qui penche.
The book we have in our hands is the diary of an individual on the job, the adaptation of an old factory into luxury homes. That man works from dawn to dusk with other beings whose names he barely knows. Because in the work “everything stays within us. Without saying.”
Thus, in the midst of many silences, he will tell with just the right and minimum words a story where the objects are the protagonists: excavator, shovel, mortar, concrete, pickaxe or hammer.
In small entries – from June 16 to November 20 – Metz places us in that work bubble. Outside of it, he has the nights and weekends, where, weighed down by accumulated exhaustion, he only allows himself a walk (“Get away for a moment from those tasks that do not listen to who we are”) or a glass of wine. The worker Metz fulfills his mission but cannot help but fly further. Perhaps that is why “bird” is the word that is repeated the most in these pages. “Seed”, “earth” or “water” also abounds. The narrative of the working class routine – “the laborer's dialect” – does not silence the inner voice of a being who aspires to another language (“There may be a work in what you write”, he tells himself), who thinks about the sense of time and its condition (“I write inside a nettle, not inside a rose”).
The alienating life of the construction worker is the focus of this book in which Metz manages to capture his restlessness and his introspective gaze and in which he reveals the desire to contemplate the wide world in a different way.
Three decades separate this story from that of Azahara Alonso (1988) from Oviedo, who decides at an unusual age – in her thirties – to put on the handbrake and stop working. She does it with a guaranteed minimum income – from institutional aid – and with the option of returning. In Gozo she explains her experience of distancing herself. She goes with her partner to the small island of Malta that bears that inspiring name and which gives the book its title.
Its pages take us to land in an unknown environment and in the adaptation process that it implies: knowing the local peculiarities, customs, language, myths... a faith of journey that has given rise to different literary works. But this one goes further. The author, who had published a book of poems (Gestar un topico) and one of aphorisms (Bajas pressures), puts some of them in these pages full of sentences and elaborate phrases. The training in Philosophy is also noticeable.
This is a volume with many questions that challenge us. There is an analytical and critical look at so many aspects integrated into daily life such as fast food, standing in line or tourism and its way of appropriating the gaze. It wanders from personal experience to the social dimension supported by brilliant analyzes by other authors. There are George Perec, Emily Dickinson, Paul Lafargue, Bertarnd Rusell, Susan Sontang, Roland Barthes, Dean MacCannell, Rodolphe Christin, Donna Stonecipher and many more.
Reflection on idleness leads her to review the prevailing way of life marked by productivity indices and hours worked. The choice of an island acts as a metaphor. For Alonso, “it is a parenthesis from solid ground”, a refuge, a place to return to the fullness of the senses (to the perception of colors, to the sound of bells, to the way people speak, to the look at the horizon). The girl who at the age of five wanted to consciously integrate her breathing now seeks to continue doing so.
This book is read with great interest, thinking about the life we lead, about how we fit work into existence. Azahara Alonso has put together a hybrid book of testimony, travel, essay... a courageous and profound book that invites everyone to look for their own setting in the world in which to take their photo. And in the end, as Metz did with her days on the scaffolding, the Asturian puts that island and her inner journey in writing.
The inner gaze of both authors leads them beyond their current circumstances – on the construction site or by the sea – to draw with words the spaces they want to inhabit beyond a scheduled day, to enjoy existence.
Thierry Metz Diary of a pawn Translation by Vanesa García Cazorla Peripheral 128 pages 15 euros
Azahara Alonso Joy Plum 226 pages 15.95 euros
