José María Ridao

In this book, José María Ridao examines a variety of literary figures: from Turgenev to Galdós, Orwell to Verne, Cervantes to Rabelais, Rodoreda to Marsé, and Azaña to Martín-Santos. Written with the author's characteristic acuteness, it is a stimulating essay on literature.

A substantial portion of European art and literature adheres to the rules of decorum—well-polished forms tailored to patterns validated by tradition and good taste. Yet another tradition exists, one that rebels against conventions. The result is an unsettling, unclassifiable art akin to a silence: a casing built from rubble hiding the statue of a god within. It creates a discord between an exterior that can be shameless, laughable, and grotesque, and an interior rich in wisdom. This tradition has suffered persecution, and even when its excellence ultimately prevailed, attempts were made to veil it behind interpretations that obscured its singularity and worth.

Whether recounting how the painted nude survived European decorum, demystifying critical trends that attempt to reduce Cervantes to a mere conduit for the national spirit, analyzing the formal irreverences of Sterne and Rabelais, the heterodoxy of Juan Goytisolo, or the provocations of a painter like Egon Schiele, José María Ridao exposes a frequently submerged current within European culture. He breaks a lance for those artists who did not hesitate to embrace imperfections and stray from conventional canons if it enabled them to push the boundaries of their creative expression—a defense that ultimately becomes a true praise of imperfection.