Javier Tomeo is more unique than any other

One of them is Javier Tomeo. It is true that his work has Kafkaesque features (two characters argue in one of his stories and Gregorio Samsa tries to find out what kind of insect really is in Kafka’s classic) and, rightly so, Buñuelesque, both while he was alive and after he died 10 years ago. But Tomeo’s case is special because we are not dealing with a wounded intellectual, a voracious reader who distills his reading into his works. He was not a good reader, although he used tool books (that is, books that inform him of something he intended to use in a novel or story). As Jorge Herralde sums it up in his Opiniones mohicanas (and as a preface to the synopsis recently published by Anagrama): «He loved to write much more than to read. Reading made him nervous, he said: If the books are bad, it’s because they are bad; if it’s good, out of jealousy. In any case, they were strangers.”

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t part of his corresponding generation in the 50s, but was born in 1932, roughly the same year as the writers of the “warboys” generation. Nor did he seem interested in the social realism movement. Born in Quicena, not far from Huesca, but living in Barcelona from a young age, Tomeo was a rather lonely man, yet a kind of false anti-human who radiated love wherever he went. In the 1960s, he attended a gathering of various characters where an occasional figure appeared. After that meeting, going through the legal department of the Hispano Olivetti company, he took on some food business and also met the editor, Herralde, who is not yet.

characteristic elements

He began by publishing counter-stories for El Noticiero Universal and popular novels for the publishing house Bruguera, including a slavery story, many of which can still be found in bookstores under the pseudonym Franz Keller. In the late 1960s, Tomeo’s first writings came under his own name, which included some of the hallmarks of his work: humor, a certain unsettling atmosphere, and indulgence in the absurd.

These works are El cazador, where this obsession with the loner and “fictional” novels can already be seen, and El unicornio, a genius where at a given moment two narrative realities (a play and an audience) merge into a detective parody, for which he won the Ciudad de Barbastro prize. But solitary confinement in the late ’70s garnered critical acclaim with The Castle of the Encrypted Letter, a hilarious self-talk that tackles yet another of Tomeo’s narrative foundations. Two of the most distinguished critics of the period, Rafael Conte and Manuel Cerezales, are lauded for the work that was also successful internationally. Especially after the publication in Germany of publisher Klaus Wagenbach, who curiously wrote the expert and biographer of Franz Kafka.

A friend of social gatherings over the past decade, Herralde has already become an excellent editor and has decided to publish the book. In the aforementioned text, Herralde coquettishly explains that the book was rejected by Argos Vergara because it was not commercial enough, and the publisher, paradoxically, ceased to exist. Six years later, comes what has become for many his masterpiece: Beloved Beast. A comic novel about a surreal job interview for a bank clerk, in which the applicant in his thirties lives under the rule of his mother. Absurd situations follow each other in a delightfully frenzied dialogue, and reading poetry or being a music lover without revealing the result and just as a note are highly contraindicated for the job.

This novel was taken to the theater in Paris (and later in many other countries) and supported the success of the Aragonese author abroad, which backfired and strengthened his prestige in our country. He remained outside the literary circles, however, and Juan Benet’s (often misquoted) malicious statement in the Revista de Occidente serves as an example: “Tomeo is okay, but it doesn’t change its flavor: his work is like a plate of croquettes”, probably in response to his disbelief at Germany’s insistence that he be invited to a Spanish literary delegation headed by Benet.

Tomeo’s work is extensive and includes about fifty titles, almost all of which are short. He managed to fit many emotions into a few pages. Although the humor surrounds and combines its texts, it also has a dose of discomfort that disturbs the reader and a subtext that goes beyond the narrative and makes them think. His prose is precise, unhurried, without unnecessary excesses and re-creation.

He also had an exceptional ear that allowed you to engage in his abundant dialogue without resistance. And although his work has many mirrors and sets of communication tools and common elements such as animals (especially insects), loneliness, isolation, missing characters, inability to communicate, Benet is wrong in his interpretation of poison. Each Tomeo story takes you to a different place. And if it was really a plate of croquettes, it would be worth eating without stopping.

endless anecdote

He was also blamed for the fact that his characters are a copy of him. It’s true that he developed a certain air of coldness with the help of this strong and grand appearance, but aside from the fact that many characters have voiced their writers’ concerns, they would be even more misleading and even illogical if their characters were too similar to Tomeo.

His anecdotes are endless, and extends to Tomeo’s long conversation with Manuel Vicente, who was very proud to appear to Nadal (who confirmed he was leaving without an escort) with several very beautiful women who led to an extra table set up for him, until he said goodbye to “See you soon, Verdú” in reference to Vicente Verdú.

But perhaps the funniest is his experience with his close friend, Luis Alegre. Tomeo took a train to Barcelona in Zaragoza, but accidentally took the train to Madrid. And he called Luis Alegre of Calatayud, angry at Renfe for taking him in the opposite direction without admitting or realizing that he would be wrong, and repeated an already legendary phrase: “This Renfe thing is a disgrace!”

Another very funny incident happened in 1995. Tomeo, a big fan of Real Zaragoza, was unable to watch important matches as it caused too much anxiety. In this way, the Cup Winners’ Cup final was lost, in which the handy team beat Arsenal with a goal from Nayim in the last seconds of extra time. However, when the result was clear, he decided to watch the match on video. At one point, the assistant accidentally asked for a substitution and put Nayim’s number. Tomeo panicked: “They’re going to change who wins the match!” Naturally, Nayim did not leave the field and showed the tape game as it was.

Spanish Caucasian?

That’s how Tomeo’s mind worked. Another. Also, in conversation, whether it was a conversation or a talk on a particular topic, it was nearly impossible for this to happen through traditional channels. But if there was one thing that defined Tomeo, it was his imagination. His literature uses it to release the weights of reality and identification. It’s not easy to identify with their characters, whose quirks are foreign to us, but it’s easy for us to understand and empathize with them.

I’m not sure Tomeo is the Spanish Kafka. But a unique writer had a rare genius. Yes, more unique than others. His best works never get old and continue to cause confusion, laughter, and reflection. With so much autofiction and notary prose today, what more could you ask for?