<![CDATA[Ara Balears in English - Narrative]]> 10 <![CDATA[I need wings to fly]]> With his first film (The 400 Blows), François Truffaut began a cinematic cycle starring a fictional character (Antoine Doinel, alter ego of Truffaut himself) who embodied different films, always played by the same actor (Jean-Pierre Léaud). From this filmed continuum, the beloved French filmmaker was able to explore the complex and exciting paths of a human being's life. I thought of this artistic example while reading Pere Joan Martorell's new and ambitious novel, Nits sense ales (Nights without wings) from Pagès Editors, as through its pages we can once again encounter a character who has starred in other works by the Lloseta writer, such as the Llibre de les revelacions (Book of Revelations) (Editorial Moll, 2007), because Amador is, in effect, Martorell's correspondent in possible parallel and quantum universes. In a literary adventure that connects him with Solenoide, by Mircea Cărtărescu, Pere Joan Martorell does not recreate his life in the mirror of fiction, but reinvents it from turning points that could have occurred, and thus recovers Amador, a psychologist and writer in a center dedicated to behavioral disorders. But every story begins with a turning point, that is, with a change, a disorder, and it is here when the appearance of Judith, a young woman marked by a past of brutal violence and abuse, activates a narrative mechanism of high emotional tension. Her voice, which emerges with difficulty between shame and urgency, challenges the therapist and destabilizes him to the point of forcing him to confront his own limits. It is then that the work unfolds like a progressive infernal descent towards the most opaque zones of the mind and society, with a highly symbolic language and images of powerful impact. The world that is drawn around the characters, with the presence of a sordid network of domination and exploitation, is not merely a setting that draws from a real case: it acts as an amplifier of internal conflicts. But what truly sustains the novel is its formidable ability to show how evils are not only external, but above all intimate, embedded in memory and the body. Martorell develops a story that skillfully moves through the margins of moral ambiguity, exploring the fine line that separates compassion from desire.With a ductile and intensely expressive prose, which knows how to alternate sharp cuts with moments of restorative delicacy, Nits sense ales, by Pere Joan Martorell, is a striking account of vulnerability and the search for redemption, a novel that delves without concessions into the most fragile and uncomfortable territories of human experience, where wound and desire are confused and where the need for empathy becomes almost a matter of survival.

]]> <![CDATA[I think about it, but I wish I didn't.]]> Joan Perelló is—and we can say this with pride—one of the most valuable poets we have in Mallorca specifically, and in the Catalan Countries in general, but in recent years he has also proven himself to be a prose writer with a sharp wit, a dry plot, and a truly first-rate style. The truth is, both his short stories and his novels have always thrilled me; they taste of gin, smell of strong tobacco, and read like classic literature. That's why I'm somewhat pleased that Ensiola Editorial is once again backing this writer of red-hot streets and rough-hewn stone, who returns with a collection of short stories that reads like a novel and has a beautiful, unflinching, and perfect title: Intruder's air

]]> <![CDATA[Marta Fernández: "Whoever invented the 'scroll' probably regrets it."]]>

Content creator and trainer in audiovisual techniques and narratives Marta Fernández believes that the person who invented thescroll –swiping up, down, or sideways with a finger on a screen to see more content– is something he regrets. This technique, which allows users to view a large amount of content in a short time, has affected citizens' attention spans, which are now "very short because we've become accustomed to endless consumption," according to Fernández. "We're not even capable of reading a book," he laments.

]]> <![CDATA[From a dung bucket to angel wings]]> A novel in which corpses send racy love letters, dusty portraits suffer from verbosity, Neapolitan uncles who levitate if they utter subordinate clauses, cousins with a fury to fuck horns in original shapes, witches who become old maids who are oracular poets and speculate in abandoned convents, nuns who steal works of art, wives who abandon husbands to sleep with bishops because of beautiful calligraphy and the possibility that Adolf Hitler survived and hid in the sanctuary of Lluc for a while to escape from the Allied troops... adventures that take place in one of the most fascinating, fun and well-written novels I've read this season, a sensational Fellini-esque phantasmagoria.

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