Twisted History of Literature

 Twisted History of Literature - Javier Traité  I finished reading this book which I bought three days ago. A new branch of a bookstore I frequent recently opened, and my wife and I were there looking at the tables with books. After a moment, I wandered over to one of the tables, and in the back, on the bottom shelf, were the books related to the subject of literature itself.

There were several interesting ones, at least by title, and others not so much (at least for my interests). One in particular caught my eye: on its spine, the word TWISTED stood out in red, slightly slanted. That was why I initially passed over it; my first mental read was, “This is an unserious book, keep looking.” And so I did, continuing to look at books and read titles. Since I still hadn't decided, I made a second pass, and once again the book stood out with its title among the others: Twisted History of Literature. On this second pass, the book called out to me, sparked my curiosity, and I pulled it off the shelf. Immediately, two things clicked in my head: first, the colorful cover featuring well-known writers with their eyes covered; second, as I thumbed through it and let the pages fly by, I managed to read three or four familiar titles and authors. That was when I decided I was going to buy it. I did, and when I got home, I started reading it.

Its author is Javier Traité, a young Spaniard with a degree in history and a bookseller. He maintains a blog at http://literaturatorcida.blogia.com/. I remember that the previous book I read on the subject of the history of literature was also written by an author (A. Manguel) who was (or had been) a bookseller.
Upon finishing the roughly 300 pages, there are the author's acknowledgments, and at the very end—the first time I've ever seen this in a book—an acknowledgment from the publishing house itself, Principal de los Libros. In their acknowledgment, they naturally invite us to their website, which is http://www.principaldeloslibros.com/.

And now my opinion on the book. A necessary missing feature, at least for me, and one I wish it had included, was an index of authors and works—something common in books of this style—so that if you want to look up a particular one, you can get straight to the point without beating around the bush. Especially since I have a feeling I'll be returning to this book, perhaps once or more, to look for a specific commentary. It is one of those books that every now and then you go back to just to find a single point in question.

It tries to be comedic, and sometimes it succeeds (for example, I found it very funny when he branded Socrates a “dangerous unbeliever,” or when he tells the anecdote about Swift or the one about Goethe), but many other times it falls into repetitive vulgarity (although surely some will find this comedic as well).

When it refers to “Twisted Literature,” what exactly does it mean? We will never truly know; we have to form the idea ourselves. It doesn't state it clearly, or whatever little it does say lends itself to confusion. The Prologue begins with a definition from the RAE (Royal Spanish Academy), and then rambles for two pages before finally stating, “to offer a new vision of the history of literature [...] rather a review of the most sordid, twisted, deviant, and interesting aspects of the world of letters. The result is this book.”

Now then, the result was neither one thing nor the other; it was a total mixture, and something came out of it. If it was referring solely to works, that wasn't the outcome—it is true that it discusses many works, which is interesting. If it was referring to authors, it is true that it discusses the “twisted” lives or “twisted” (or eccentric) aspects of many authors, a sort of brief biography, something like micro-biographies, some based on the authors' own memoirs and others... and others? I suppose based on biographers, but the biographers are not included, not even in citations, despite the fact that biographers also made literature—true, minor literature without the transcendence of the authors in question. Ultimately, from the mix of works and authors' lives, the underlying question seems to be: did the lives they led influence the outcome of their works?

Now, regarding the “twisted” label—the guiding line meant to be followed throughout the work—it wasn't always adhered to. Often, with the exception of “because I cannot pass up,” he alludes to some work and/or life of an author who had nothing twisted about them. The risk of this is that in his selection, he left many out (of the “non-twisted” ones), and worse still, he may have left out minor authors who actually did have twisted works (and/or lives).

Of course, everything written here—this mix of essay with brief biographies and commentaries on works—is blended with humor: sometimes intelligent, and very often crude and boorish. I cannot lie; many times it made me burst out laughing, and there are truly parts that are very funny. I share the opinion he expresses over the course of three pages regarding child-rearing, having an open mind, children reading truths even if they were doubts, and the criticism of over-protection so that kids wake up and don't live in a dream. I agree with what he says there, but what is all of this? Is it a self-help chapter? Where is the “twisted” element in all of that? There isn't any. Regardless, the chapter on the Grimm brothers is well handled. The chapter I didn't like at all was Stevenson's; he devoted less than half a page to him, though at least he included him—I was worried I wouldn't find him.

What I really disliked—contrary to other stances he takes as a writer, because he is quite critical, especially of his own country, its history of colonization, current sectors of society, politics, etc.—is that he falls into aggressive vulgarity to disparagingly refer to authors based on the illnesses they suffered. Thus, he dispatches them as “the tuberculous one,” “the syphilitic one,” etc., which is completely out of place and tactless. Where is the humor in that? It feels like a mix of immature malice. Everything else is passable, but when he refers to people this way is when he veers off course.

Otherwise, the book is recommendable, well worth reading, and flows smoothly. It introduces you to many authors and works, tells stories, makes you familiar with texts, fills you with curiosity, and does it all with humor.