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The power of a book

was the month of April this year and I had a forced trip to Barcelona to take care of some paperwork. One morning in the Peruvian Consulate and Asian shops around to buy food at my wife species, and from there to enjoy the city, around a Peruvian restaurant to eat a ceviche that meets achiever hidden passions and I was time-it was most bookstores and go-to me from past issues like a woman scorned shopping with the husband's credit card.

A few blocks from where I live, here in Vigo, is a another library to which I will from time to time to dig some curiosity, and sometimes even kill the worm by me in some interesting publication. Not bad. But to get to Barcelona is like entering a literary paradise. There are all the books, everyone. And how happy you start to explore the four floors of the Plaza Catalunya FNAC [1] or slip through the streets of the Gothic Quarter in search of old booksellers and unexpected issues hidden in old shelves. A pleasure like few I try to make the most, like weirdo, in a city always willing and open to everyone.

By chance at that time appeared on the market the last book by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Game Angel [2], the second part of the trilogy of the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. I remembered that phrase a few years ago when someone told me vaguely that time the book was becoming a bestseller. It was Shadow of the Wind [3], the book that became famous millionaire while the English writer who has lived long ago in California.

Then that afternoon I bought the first of two books, among other acquisitions, because logic dictates it and because I try to be very logical about everything, and that night I started reading the synopsis excited back cover on old booksellers of the Barcelona-forties, the story of a boy who visits the Cemetery of Forgotten Books of the hand of his father and get a book that opens up a mystery that covers the city and confusing literature on the same atmosphere of night and fog. The next day I rushed downtown to walk the streets where they walked their characters and recognizing stops, subway stations that were depicted in their pages. And I discovered that there is even a tour of the streets where the story of the book and was not the only one who was there after reading it. I was shocked to discover a literary Barcelona while character. Especially because the years pass and still the same. I thought a little in Lima, which appears in a thousand stories, and I thought that the best that was certainly discussed and portrayed Julio Ramón Ribeyro. In order that the book took me so my stay in Catalonia, three days. And I went to the pleasure of reading an author for me hitherto unknown, who passionately loved literature.

And when I reached the last page, I understood why this story had sold over eight million copies and been translated into almost every language [4]. He was convinced that Ruiz Zafon life had stopped writing the novel and these figures and become a best seller was the wonderful consequences of a domino effect. The success of his novel had nothing to do with the Da Vincis Code or The Tenth Symphony or secret dinners that can easily appeal to morbid group. This time the plot had its own universe and its author had given birth to her own history from a simple idea, in the fantastic setting Cemetery of Forgotten Books.

So just got to Vigo, as I handed my wife the teriyaki sauce and sesame oil and seaweed and other spices that came in the suitcase, I was commenting on the good book I had bought and the same day was a couple of blocks from home buying the second installment, which had been heralded as the most anticipated of the year, then the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. And closing doors and windows and I left the world to get into reading. And the result was a big disappointment.

I say

about movies that sequels are never better than the first. With honorable exceptions such as The Godfather II, for example. The last of Ruiz Zafon is far from what he accomplished with Shadow of the Wind, but how they sold and how people queuing in mind the book fair has the world to get an autograph from the author. I've seen him grab the attention of the media, the organizers of the ordinary people, those who know and those who do not. Is that Ruiz Zafon must thank the rest of his life to the first delivery that this second band everywhere and at all times. Because if nothing existed would be the same.

No But what causes the most impression is that so far no comment on this new book, which nobody has come to say that the issue was left with large and that history does not deserve so many pages and so much effort. Nobody said a peep, or at least I still have not heard. And Ruiz Zafon has achieved what few writers in this world, no matter what anyone says, no matter what he writes, his name associated with the Cemetery of Forgotten Books is larger than any commentary, is stronger than any other publication, has its own life, the Harry Potter effect, and no one can stop him, nor himself. And therefore will continue to sell millions of copies and generating queues in search of autographs. In good time for him and for literature.

For now I am left in despair, waiting for the third and last part. Let's see how many years from now. You have to hold it. ----------------------------------------------

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[1] A store the size of San Isidro Saga but dedicated exclusively to books, music and games. Just as we hear! It takes more than a day if one wants to visit all, so it is advisable to go with clear ideas and pocket pressed not to die trying. [2] Ruiz Zafon, Carlos, The Angel's Game, Editorial Planeta, 1st Edition, April 2008. [3] Ruiz Zafon, Carlos, The Shadow of the Wind, Editorial Planeta, 1st Edition, April 2002, 62 th Edition, December 2007. Yes, in about five years had more than 60 editions of the same company, as if the only book published. [4] And to think that Lima was announced with great fanfare the publication of a novel by Bryce Echenique, with 5,000 copies of the same company, and that the same managers said they were all at risk!

The Vampire Strangler

was once a blog

The good thing about having a weblog where to lay down a couple of ideas that we often fall from mature is that you never know who may read them or is capable of predicting the nature of their comments. And that is without doubt the best incentive for the few, poor, good and many ideas you have, not lost like dreams, into oblivion.

thousand moons ago I stopped posting in this blog and has not been much because I had run out of ideas, especially the poor, always flying around my head, but because I had a promising proposal for a Lima newspaper move to your pages for a while. And you can imagine those days when I proposed it: I thought the best writer in the world, the last puff of mango here in Europe, and suddenly I thought well deserved and with sufficient grounds to break all records this tiny world barely scratched. It was the time of the rise, take off like lightning to the top and see who I am to be screwed all jojolete lerolero. Straight to the Nobel.

Also, how did all that had been presaged in the nail. Neither more nor less. It had already written a couple of post for a blog the same day with dyes peruanidad suffered abroad. A kind of "Cholo am" with "Peruvian suffer, suffer." At that time I lived in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bwhere we had come up with Lucy, my wife, and where we began to break through. Then I ventured to propose a perennial blog. Peruvian bloggers were already in Beijing, London and other cities. Barcelona I told them and they told me odd. So there had been the thing. Until I received an email where I was invited to be part of a blog where he would write three people. All young writers, told me. The idea was to write a novel in three hands. The three we would present an argument and the "Editorial Board" the daily choose the best. Hence the two other writers had to be continuing the story where I had left earlier.

then I was no longer living in Barcelona but in Vigo, the land of my wife. And one of those days my father had taught me at home a very old grandfather clock that had belonged to his family since the early twentieth century and that I was captivated by her beauty. Then I thought the story had to be on the clock. I set up the argument, read Lucia, added a couple of ideas and send it to an old friend of the wet and dreary Lima. He, in that vein as a poet and journalist to make matters worse, be responsible for adding the salt and pepper to history.

Weeks later I respond

journal with a new proposal. Turns out I had suggested that not only the three writers were to build a short novel but so did the readers who exercise the right to voice their comments give the guidelines for where they thought should be the thread of the story. And they liked the idea. I replied that we would no longer by myself but the three who wrote the blog and that the very idea of \u200b\u200bincluding the readers would be the motor of history.

I think ten million emails sent to all my contacts and contacts of my contacts for them to know that I moved for a time in the trenches and make themselves a return from time to time through the pages the dean to read and entertain-if that were possible, with a story of mystery and intrigue that was just out of the oven.

At first I must admit that it worked. It was clear he would not be a blog like that brides finder takes all the plaudits for the magnitude of feedback, but at least the painting idea. Then I moved and, as usual, I packed without getting me to think there was a fact as simple as it seems, would be responsible for destroying my little sand castle.

was clear that among the comments that there would be responsible for the taunting, the chacota and Bacilon, also those chilly bile leave on the table because of tastes and styles has not written one, while one another understand what it was this blog and join in grief or sympathy with this cause. And to the last post were scheduled ten since the beginning and were some fourteen or fifteen at the end, always there even one person in the world that leave a few words, although not so much to intervene in the story and give suggestions but to leave their opinions. But something went wrong.

turns out that a post should always focus on one idea, and as argumentative text, close it. Leaving very clearly what you mean or what to expect. Because that's the nature of the blog, that one becomes aware of something is or where it surfs the chance, which is also true. Read the same day that is published or one year later. There it is wonderful weblog, is sustainable. I have more of a post I wrote over a year ago and for which I am still receiving comments. They are there and ready. Endpoint. In contrast to the post in the history of the watch was difficult. Why were some related to others and especially with the old. It made the comments were limited while the post hung lasted until the next appeared. From the outset it was determined that post once a week which in the long run I do not know if eventually more complicated.

Anyway, the story ended and the bitter aftertaste still can not get it out of my throat. The blog is no longer posted on the journal page even if one is curious and goes through the files or the list of blogs LINKED can still access it, and especially read the last, which seems to have final . The comments just refer to it, that something is missing. I did not dare to continue it because I knew if the climax he had prepared for the final in the making would be sufficient. Then I thought of leaving it open. You never know. Perhaps encouraged me to continue in some other place.

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