I reach a book in one of the stands. It’s about Star moments of humanityof Stefan Zweig. I open the first page and read: “No artist is during the twenty -four hours of his daily daily artist.” That could be said of writers, right? Yesterday, at least many of them looked like normal people instead of those inquisiting smears of the day to day that ote the world to create others. To my right, Antòna Vicens Signature specimens of your book 39º the shadows. He does it, precisely, in the shade, but not at 39 degrees, but to some fresh 18 or 20. last year it was the rain that tarnished St. Georgebut yesterday no trace of it. The sun fell with force and some bookseller looked with the arched eyebrow towards the sky. “Instead of umbrella, I should have brought sunscreen,” infer. The sky, however, did not stole the prominence, and all the eyes perched on the leaves of the thousands of books that flooded Palma because of the one that is are day and anyone else. Or not?
And is that, What would be the books without which we read them? Yesterday was also our great day and the stars were aligned. good weather, Easter holidays for many and streets that invited to be traveled in search of pages and petals. For those who do not like agglomerations, Sant Miquel, Plaça Major or La Rambla could be places to avoid. Well, to tell the truth for many from March to November because of the massification, but yesterday the festive feeling was constant, fueled by Tom and Rosa, the cap that throughout the day they walked to the rhythm of music inviting to dance to little ones and not so small. Nietzsche already said: “Life without music would be a mistake.” Sant Jordi too.
The morning started promisingly. The waves of people followed, with many tourists enjoying the stamp, and the booksellers rubbed their hands between book and book sold. Some already said it: “We have recovered the hours lost last year by the rain,” the same one that decided not to make an appearance. It would not be surprising to imagine a member of the Booksellers guild making some kind of offering to the gods of the time you want so that they do not expect the party. Be that as it may, desire granted.
Sensations
And there is another question to ask, what would be of us, those who read, without the booksellers who sell us the books? Yesterday was also his big day, yes. Miquel Ferrerpresident of that guild and co-owner of Rat Corner Ylittle Rata, he was hopeful since the morning and when the afternoon arrived he confirmed it: “Very good feelings,” he confessed and added that they hoped to be able to corroborate them with good data. Some of his colleagues along the itinerary agreed: “They could be like that every day.”
-The thing did not start badly and after a frantic morning, the afternoon entered a little break before gradually returning to be a river of people flooding the streets. So, from the central Square (Where did their own bookshop coexist, Magic Dragon, Gotham, Fourth Crescent, Moon, Baobab, Comic Universe and Quartz) Up to Bouquet (populated by literary, Agapea, Finis Africae, Lila and Els Tales, Es Raconet, books Ramon Llull, Campus y Curoelletes bookstore) or Via Roma (La Salina) The rows of books in each position only rivaled those of people leaning on them. They didn’t get behind in Cort (Litera), Walk of the Born (Savoy’s bookseller) or Plaza de España (Abacus and each of Llibre), where its spaced locations allowed relief.
Was such the number of people who, in fact, there were those who did not doubt ruband not in good sense, for giving a foothold and looking for whether the desired dedication of its favorite author or getting some novelty or desired title. Included children that barely reached the height of the stands and that they should almost scream To make themselves heard. And do not hesitate, they got it.
And finally, what would be books, booksellers and readers without those who write, writers? Yesterday they had their great day and, in fact, it is probably one of the few a year in which the trained eye is able to see something weird: writers running. They did it to reach the next signature session, and there were 150, so you can imagine the races that were thrown. Sant Jordi is also the excuse to face the words read and write them to new faces in felt dedications.
We finish the route taking another book, Chronicle of an announced deathof Gabriel García Márquez. We leaf through the end and we read something that could be applied to anyone who yesterday was selling or buying books at the end of the day: «Then he entered his house through the back door […] And he collapsed from Bruces in the kitchen ». Yes indeed, surrounded by new books and some pink.
