It is worth noting that Marías himself co-founded and co-directs a small publishing house called "Reino de Redonda", from which are rescued and well cared for semi-forgotten texts by Auden, Shiel, Dinesen, Yeats et al, at an average rate of two or three books per year.
Having read several Marias' novels I can relate to some of your story, but I never realized the depth and breadth of the secrets that were hidden beyond the surface of his work.
Cannot help but have Somerset Maugham come to mind; oh and with the sprinkled ashes, so too Keith Richards. Although the story of his snorting dear old dad's ashes is likely more apocryphal than real. "(That was the whole final phase of blues collecting mania of the 1960s, and perhaps the most fascinating chapter of them all.)" - And thank God for it too!
A superb distraction toward the end of a working day! The English seem to have more than their share of these eccentrics. I had quite a collection of Marías novels at one point, until I realized they didn't hold my interest. (I enjoyed the essays in Written Lives more.) Your post may induce me to pick up the first volume of Your Face Tomorrow, something I wouldn't have thought possible 10 minutes ago.
What a wonderful tale! Thank you for introducing us to such fascinating people!
https://www.sommollet.cat/noticia/92924/un-llibre-del-viatge-de-javier-dieguez-al-regne-de-redonda
Who is Marias’s successor?
I’d be glad to read his works because long ago I heard about the beauty in Spanish poetry. I would have to read in English
It is worth noting that Marías himself co-founded and co-directs a small publishing house called "Reino de Redonda", from which are rescued and well cared for semi-forgotten texts by Auden, Shiel, Dinesen, Yeats et al, at an average rate of two or three books per year.
Having read several Marias' novels I can relate to some of your story, but I never realized the depth and breadth of the secrets that were hidden beyond the surface of his work.
Cannot help but have Somerset Maugham come to mind; oh and with the sprinkled ashes, so too Keith Richards. Although the story of his snorting dear old dad's ashes is likely more apocryphal than real. "(That was the whole final phase of blues collecting mania of the 1960s, and perhaps the most fascinating chapter of them all.)" - And thank God for it too!
Bravo (again) sir!!! What a wonderfully bizarre history -- keep them coming, my friend!
A superb distraction toward the end of a working day! The English seem to have more than their share of these eccentrics. I had quite a collection of Marías novels at one point, until I realized they didn't hold my interest. (I enjoyed the essays in Written Lives more.) Your post may induce me to pick up the first volume of Your Face Tomorrow, something I wouldn't have thought possible 10 minutes ago.
This is a a ridiculously juicy piece (not to mention the best thing I've ever read on JM).