Large White Patch Inside Lower Lip

Black and white: Beatus ille

Seix Barral. Barcelona. 1994. P. 281.

university I started my journey in the fall of 1985, when Muñoz Molina had just put the finishing stitches, also in Granada, which would be his first novel, "Beatus ille published by Seix Barral in January following year. I then knew neither his name nor his work, and perhaps even agree on Isabel la Católica Theatre on the occasion of one of the concerts that are held annually under the International Jazz Festival, I never would have dared to suspect physical proximity which, over time, has become one of my writers reference. I have said before, in another post, which I found the grenade in mid 80's would not be essentially different from that which would be eleven years before his eyes when he arrived from Úbeda. But I'm also convinced that the rural environment of his childhood and adolescence should not be very different from what I experienced in my town, even if my family circumstances contributed to expand, with books, trips and holidays, the narrow horizon in store by then everyday life of peoples. I read his books and not just recognize myself in certain atmospheres skillfully recreated (what is), but above all, I identify with that expectation that makes a distant vanishing point promise of a distinct existence (which should be), can challenge the accuracy and equity that insists on following us, by force of habit, the lifetime path of our elders. There are many literary characters, perhaps as the author himself, break with the predictable sequence of events and flee to a world which account for more friendly. Is not the attitude and rebellion, not without some remorse, those who push Mágina Jacinto Solana to leave? ... then in Polish Rider find symmetrical argument, but now when I have just reread Beatus ille and again enjoy the masterful prose of Úbeda, rather than elaborate in any discussion in that order, try to imagine the ancient times to recreate the novel and the other closer to recover, even if you begin to distance, that I bought in Granada, in March 1997. It was probably after The Polish Rider and Winter in Lisbon the next book I read by Muñoz Molina, which, for many reasons, I retain a lasting impression that the second reading has not denied.