Sant Jordi's day is a continuum of “low voltage, five to ten volt satisfactions”, as the journalism's Tom Wolfe wrote. For the authors, because they see the face of their readers and for the readers, because they wear their signature. And above all, it is an almost hundred-year-old festival in which the Catalans, fed up with celebrating defeats, decided to commemorate the victory of culture. It is no coincidence that on that day more books are sold in Catalan than in Spanish, which does not happen the rest of the year, as if the majority wanted to affirm their identity
For a decade now, the party has started the afternoon before, at the Alma hotel, where La Vanguardia brings together the writers who, hours later, will deploy around Barcelona like faithful literary infantry. I must say that I arrived at the event at the same time as Ada Colau and Yolanda Díaz, whom I greeted warmly.
The second vice president of the Government wore an elegant black manila shawl. A very appropriate garment, which was commented on by Benito Pérez Galdós in Fortunata y Jacinta, who defined it as "the most beautiful and characteristic shawl that so favors beauty, at the same time noble and popular, since the great lady has carried it on her shoulders and the gypsy.” Well then, due to those things of chance, the fringes of the shawl got tangled with the button of my jacket and we experienced a few moments of crisis, because one more tug could end in tragedy. I did not lose my cool, I endured a failed attempt by the lady to solve the tangle, and with the skill of a surgeon, achieved after a few seconds of nerves, I was able to undo the knot.
But it was not an omen of anything. The day of Sant Jordi dawned later, because it was a holiday, but before noon Barcelona was a bustle, with citizens laden with books and roses, enjoying a spring day. For a moment I hoped that the world was ruled by books, a slogan that, by the way, appeared in the window of the Catalònia bookstore in the years of the second republic.
I signed a few copies of my book Historias de la canallesca, a small tribute to a profession, journalism, which I love deeply, and I went home satisfied, remembering Jack Lang's praise of the Catalan capital on a day like this: “Barcelona it is a city for free spirits and adventurous hearts.”
