<![CDATA[Ara Balears in English - Castilian]]> 10 <![CDATA[Spring had a price]]> It seems that these days we have once again had a bit – too much – of cultural controversy following the publication in Spanish of what we now consider to be Mercè Rodoreda's best novel. David Uclés, the recent star of Spanish literature (he has sold thirty editions of his first novel, and the second, winner of the Nadal prize, is selling quite well) writes an epilogue and even illustrates, rather unattractively, the cover of the work. Some opinion leaders have decided to criticize the proposal, as if Catalan literature could not be prefaced by Spanish authors, even though it is Uclés' success that makes it tempting for his name to accompany Rodoreda's novel for Spanish readers. Uclés, whether one likes what he writes or not (and it must be liked, because it sells) can serve to attract readers, in a country, Spain, where neither Rodoreda nor any Catalan has had much literary fortune writing in Catalan (but not the Catalans who have written in Spanish, from Gironella to Cercas passing through Mendoza…). Uclés, however, is still a symptom, and now a symbol. It doesn't matter if his literature is weak –as the best critics point out–: it sells. And because it sells, he is then given a prize like the Nadal, because he had already made a name for himself, even though it is known that when he was nobody, he tried to win it several times. We already know how it works, then: a prize is given to someone because they are already somebody, not because they have written a good book (everyone says it's nonsense). Before, however, things didn't work like that. Publishers intended to direct the public's taste, not to satisfy it or blindly conform to it. Literature, or rather the world of commercial books, is just one more branch of the attention economy, which right now is also shaping culture. Who grabs attention? Who is being talked about? Who manages to attract glances and focus conversations, or articles, even if it's to oppose them? Well, those we talk about manage to translate that attention into money, be it through literature or politics. This is trumpism, but it is also Rufián, who states these last days that he prefers to be on TikTok rather than in libraries; it is on TikTok where people spend more hours right now. And we know he is right, but at the same time we know he shouldn't be. There are very skillful people at knowing where to place themselves: they grasp what to say, what to do, with whom to relate to in order to capitalize on dispersed attention. Mendoza did it this week by speaking against Sant Jordi, and Uclés does it by approaching a reference that has never stopped being talked about: be it Rodoreda or a city of Barcelona reduced to a museum of cultural folklorisms, to t-shirt images, like the one he himself has created for the cover of La mort i la primavera. That all this be controversial or criticized favors him, curiously, needless to say much more than if it were excellent and, therefore, did not make anyone lift their eyes from the screen… Long live culture. 

]]> <![CDATA[When the 'Argentine' wanted to replace the Spanish: the lesson for the Menorcan debate]]>

In the midst of the tiresome debate about the name and the unity of our language (will it never end?) It's common that, when someone says "Menorcan yes, Catalan no," someone else asks why the same isn't said of Castilian Spanish. In Extremadura, in the Pampas, or on the streets of Mexico City, it's often said that everyone understands they speak the same language, regardless of the variations in vocabulary, phonetics, intonation, and syntax. So why isn't the same criterion applied to Catalan? And it turns out that, indeed, among Castilian speakers there have also been attempts at linguistic secession, which are quite entertaining.

]]> <![CDATA["Copa vino la casa": The controversial literal translation from Spanish to Catalan of a bar in Mallorca]]>

Catalan continues to lose ground in the Balearic Islands' restaurants, and more and more bars and restaurants either don't have menus in Catalan or have them riddled with spelling mistakes. A recent example is a bar in Mallorca where a literal translation was used for the menu, resulting in errors such as "Copa vino la casa" (house wine glass), a term commonly used to refer to the wine the establishment offers that isn't from major brands or well-known labels. This case was reported on social media by the Instagram profile [name of Instagram profile missing]. @mallorcaviralThe comments on the post came pouring in. "We'll see things," one user remarked, referring to the large number of spelling mistakes and poor translations found on restaurant menus in the Balearic Islands.

]]> <![CDATA[The legacy of Francoism in Balearic football: why are club names still in Spanish?]]>

Murense, Ferriolense, Poblense, Margaritense, Serverense... even RCD Mallorca and Atlético Baleares. There are countless football teams in the Balearic Islands whose names are in Spanish and which have not been standardized. This legacy of Francoism is still alive today, and the possibility of breaking with the memories of the dictatorship (during which Catalan was completely forbiddenThe effort to recover the essence of teams from municipalities with Catalan-speaking and historical roots is practically nonexistent.

]]> <![CDATA[The home language]]> All the linguistic aggression that occurs anywhere in the Catalan-speaking territories demonstrates once again how little power they want us to have in our own country. The situation always plays out in the same way: a Spanish speaker, faced with the normality of a Catalan speaker wanting to communicate in Catalan—and all this in Catalan-speaking territories—refuses to understand anything, shuts down completely, and says they have no obligation to learn Catalan, even if they want to run a business or practice medicine.

]]> <![CDATA[Spanish prevails over subsidized cultural festivals]]>

They received between €30,000 and €80,000 in public funds from various Balearic institutions for the 2024 editions, and yet the presence of Catalan on their social media, websites, and official media outlets was either anecdotal or nonexistent. We're talking about festivals such as the Evolution Mallorca International Film Festival, which will celebrate its fourteenth edition in Palma next October, the CAN Ibiza Art Fair, and the Paco de Lucía Mallorca Festival, all of which benefited from grants such as those offered by the Institute of Balearic Studies (IEB) for the organization of these events. However, the predominant language in all of their communication channels was Spanish, followed by English.

]]> <![CDATA[I was born in Castilian, but I write in Catalan.]]>

My relationship with Catalan hasn't been constant, nor, much less, monogamous or exclusive. On many occasions, I've betrayed it and even treated it as a second fiddle. I can't say I've always been aware of this, which also entails a certain degree of responsibility. My mother tongue—and the only one I've used to socialize for many years—has been Spanish. This could be attributed to the fact that I come from a semi-foreign family (so to speak), if our linguistic reality were different and we didn't have to demand somewhat more compelling excuses. With Mallorcan patriarchs—one from Portocristo and the other from Palma—and Iberian matriarchs—one from Extremadura and the other from Galicia—both my mother's and father's families wove most of their universe in Spanish.

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