A few years ago, after rereading Gabriel Miró’s Niño y Grande from 1922, a remark on a social network sparked a thoughtful exchange. A former student named Inma shared that the novel’s final sentence stands as one of the most vivid reflections on life she has ever encountered. The author agrees with that sentiment and believes Miró deserves to be read in this light as well.
One hundred one years after its publication, this Alicante author’s penultimate work appears within the frame of the Generation of 14. It never achieved widespread popularity, possibly because it unfolds between the years 1898 and 1927, two landmark moments in literature, and perhaps also due to its elitist stance toward art and culture, as well as a deliberate avoidance of sentimentality in its pages.
A key aspect of approaching Miró’s novels is evident from the opening lines of this review. The reader should note that the author’s own engagement with Miró has often been shaped by a sense of educational and professional obligation, since the themes, plot development, and character architecture did not initially captivate. Yet over time, with clearer expectations and growing familiarity, the works reveal their beauty and the distinctive aesthetic they embody. This was evident in a rereading of Niño y grande, a compact novel under 140 pages, fully underlined and annotated from the 1988 Castalia Classics edition purchased at a bookstore. The rereading took place in July 1990 as part of preparations for the following year’s Electivity readings. Today, the work is accessible online through the Miguel de Cervantes Virtual Library and is a testament to Miró’s lasting resonance.
Antonio Hernando, also called Antón, serves as both narrator and interpreter who shares his own opinions. The narrative follows an initiation arc, tracing the protagonist from childhood into early adulthood. The opening lines reveal a lineage rooted in a modest, pious rural ancestry. The novel is divided into three parts and twenty-five chapters, characterized by fragmentation and reduction. It links time through partial truths about social classes, education, and love. The early sections depict a strict Jesuit education at the Santo Domingo de Orihuela school, with biographical implications and revelations about sexual awakening. The final section focuses on the protagonist’s future, shaped by love for Elena, a sister of a schoolmate, culminating in a conclusion marked by unresolved ambiguity. The central theme of love emerges from a phrase that invites readers to reconsider the nature of youthful aspiration and profound affection.
Miró’s aestheticism stands out as a defining literary value. This is achieved through a rich and unusual vocabulary and the way opening phrases in chapters frame scenes, such as: a line about Elena’s affection and another about a house facing the sea. The stylistic approach is complemented by irony, used to shape characters, drive actions, and express inner thoughts. Remarkable lines, such as the narrator’s subtle self-questioning and reflections on mortality, illustrate how irony permeates the narrative and deepens the reader’s engagement with the text. The result is a literary voice that combines vivid imagery with a careful, often ironic, observation of life and death.
The question remains: why should this novel be read? Beyond the author’s provincial roots and commitment to craft, Niño y grande serves as a strong introduction to Miró’s œuvre. It offers exemplary instances of fragmentation, ellipsis, aestheticism, irony, and vivid imagery, while affirming a hopeful perspective on life despite its challenges. The work invites readers to explore Miró’s distinctive narrative strategy and to appreciate the emotional and intellectual rewards found within the pages. Source: Cervantes Virtual Library.