This one is in Spanish, poetry again. I had never heard about its author, but I saw the book during a trip to Spain in 2012 and I bought it. The author is just a couple of years older than I. I love poetry, but I don’t love all poetry. I’m way more omnivorous regarding fiction. With poetry, particularly in Spanish, I am terribly bored by lyric works that rely too much in the aesthetical aspect of it, as many poets tend to do. The same ones tend to be quite arrogant, but otherwise they wouldn’t be poets. The reason why I loved Manuel del Barrio Donaire’s book is because it’s none of that. He is not a well known poet (I couldn’t even find the book in Goodreads), and he doesn’t seem to belong to the old fashioned and endogamic Spanish literary circle. That may be what makes his look at reality acidic, cynical, raw and terribly entertaining. I had fun reading his poems. Many made me smile, and even laugh. They are quite realistic, but not like dirty realism, this is more of a 2.0 realism. Del Barrio Donaire talks about daily life, about writing, about the meaning of life or the lack of it. He is very americanized, and his verses are peppered with images and brands imported from the US, including the ubiquitous Apple and Starbucks. His references to sex are direct, probably even offensive to some delicate ears. Mine are not, so I find his direct and honest tone amusing.
If you can get a hold of this book, read it. Even someone learning Spanish could handle it. If finding his book is hard, you can always visit his blog, http://www.delalinearectadelmarcodelapuerta.blogspot.com
As soon as I can I will try to bring more of his books from Spain, as I think he deserves some more of my time. He sounds like the kind if guy with whom I would happily have a beer and a long conversation. And they aren’t many of those anymore.