In the company of the celebrated novelist Homeland, who signs books and shares stories, essays, and translations, Fernando Aramburu stood out as a poet during his early years. A young poet with curly hair, a libertarian spirit, and a taste for surrealism, he belonged to a circle that emerged during the Transitional Period between culture and activism, known in his circle as CLOC. According to the author, CLOC members sought to move literature from the page to the streets. They broadcast a radio soap opera from Radio Popular in San Sebastián, published obituary pamphlets during an election campaign, and even, on another day, earned second place in a literary contest with poems that belonged to others, including Neruda. While humor and provocation survived in some works, Aramburu’s poetry diverges from the heavy, professorial tone often associated with him as a writer.
Those early poems, written from 1977 onward and appearing in small provincial publishing houses up until the early 2000s, have now been gathered in a single volume. The collection, published by Tusquets as part of its esteemed new scriptures series, gathers the verse produced during those formative years. During a Madrid presentation, Aramburu spoke of poetry as a vocation, contrasting it with his work as a novelist, which he sees as a craft requiring a broader set of skills and knowledge. He emphasized that poetry demanded a different kind of dedication and discipline.
The editor of Tusquets, Juan Cerezo, explained that the book’s publication stemmed not from the publisher’s initiative alone but from the encouragement of another poet. Francisco Javier Irazoki, a longtime friend, inspired the project. Aramburu recalled that Irazoki took on the task of transferring the poems to the computer, long before word processing existed for the works, and even designed the cover art, wrote the afterword, and managed revisions. Aramburu joked that there is no better antidote to spelling mistakes than a friend who cares enough to undertake everything with such devotion, hoping to bring readers both joy and relief from textual errors.
Caption: A young Fernando Aramburu as a poet in 1983. Photographed by Gabriele Pape.
Even the title of one of the volumes, drawn from poems written between 1981 and 1983, was chosen by the Navarrese poet and encapsulates the tone and intention of the collection. The volume takes its name from a line of poetry that hints at the musicality and physicality Aramburu saw in language. He described Symphony as a search for a musical rhythm rooted in the language’s features and in the body, where themes of physical love, eroticism, and at times bodily decay and mortality appear. He asserted that poetry is a reflection of the whole self, and that in some of his work this personal truth remains evident even when set against other genres. He admitted that he initially feared keeping the older texts, but ultimately found value in preserving them as part of his literary journey.
Prose writer and poet alike
Reflecting on the shift from poetry to prose and the broader scope of his current work, Aramburu noted that his poetic roots never vanish entirely. He described a period of de-poetizing himself to break free from the tyranny of rhyme and meticulous word care, while conceding that poetry remained an ever-present force. He explained that this ongoing influence can be found in the works of other writers and in his own daily habit of reading two or three poems, early and late in the day. He described this practice as a source of harmony, beauty, and mental intensity, a fundamental impulse that informs his approach to literature. Works such as Homeland, and Self-portrait Without Me, a collection of poetic prose, demonstrate that the author’s output straddles poetry and narrative without surrendering the essence of either form. The collection contains more poems than readers might expect, yet the poems themselves are not presented in a traditional verse-only format.
When asked about the idea of revisiting a book like this without changing its essence, Aramburu suggested that it could happen in the future, though likely after a lengthy interval. If life allows, he would welcome the possibility that the final word he writes might be poetic, potentially as a culminating project outside his lifetime. The editor’s observations highlighted a writer who, while praised for his prose, retained a poetic sensibility evident in early works and in the themes that continue to resonate with readers of his novels and short stories. The translations of social context, the dynamics of family life in the Basque Country, moments of melancholy, and autumnal tones all echo across his early and later work, including the lines that celebrate love and its beauty.
Asked about contemporary concerns, Aramburu expressed worry about the direction of Europe after decades of prosperity, noting that current events underscore a sense of peril. He described the world in constant motion and the need to approach controversial topics with nuance, such as discussions surrounding a documentary about Josu Ternera. He suggested that any presentation should occur at an international event and avoid imposing moral judgments beforehand. Regarding an ambitious film adaptation of one of his novels, tensions between high expectations and creative execution were acknowledged, with a frank assessment that some interpretations may surpass earlier achievements while others fall short of them.