The Anglo-American poet T.S. Eliot stated more than a century ago that humanity cannot bear much reality. It is assumed that, when writing it, he knew what that reality consisted of that so overwhelmed humanity at that time. Now, in the digital age, it is increasingly difficult for him to know what the hell is -or could possibly be- that thing we call reality. If it existed, we would not know to whom such a thing belongs either, if it is a collective reality shared by the majority or rather that each one decides on their own what it is or what it is not, as occurs with the trans law.
Bestseller lists separate fiction from nonfiction. Now, who decides if a title should appear on one or the other list? For example, on the rare occasions that a poetry collection reaches bestseller status, it appears on the nonfiction list. But didn’t Pessoa say that the poet has to pretend, which is what fiction writers do?
Biographies, autobiographies, and memoirs also appear on the nonfiction lists. For what reason? Isn’t In the Shadow fiction, the memoir of young Prince Harry, in the same way that The Crown series is. It is based on his experiences, on real events, yes, but told – with the invaluable help of a black man – in his own way, altering the objective truth at will.
Essay books receive the same treatment. Should an essay claiming, with all the sensible arguments you want, that fish are human beings with scales and gills be considered nonfiction? And what about history books, especially those that are written on behalf of a nationalist government?
Perhaps the only titles really worthy of appearing on the non-fiction list are those about recipes, like those by Karlos Aguiñano. But even here there is doubt. The English novelist Julian Barnes explains it in an amusing little work about his disagreements with culinary recipes. He says that when he reads, for example, that he has to chop a medium-sized onion, he is perplexed by the challenge of knowing how to classify an onion as such, and that is where the paralysis that harasses the inexperienced or inexperienced cook enters. such necessities, since it gives rise to interpreting the recipe as pure fiction, an extreme that is corroborated with the disastrous result that it takes out of the oven.
As for the self-help ones, some of which are selling like hotcakes, what do you want me to say. You only have to take a look at the people who follow the teachings of these booklets to the letter to realize that they have been vilely cheated.
Does the Bible deserve to be on the nonfiction bestseller list? And the Spanish Constitution of 1978? In these times, it is better not to describe a fat child as a fat child, which leaves the “Piranha”, that endearing pudgy boy from Verano azul, and all those of his condition, in limbo, whether he is a character from a fairy tale Roald Dahl or the overweight brat from the fifth first.
Good, but this linguistic gibberish is far from reaching the height of Magritte’s famous painting “Ceci n’est pas une pipe”, in which he warns us that it is a painted pipe and not a real one, that is, which is nothing more than an optical fiction, a pictorial representation of a real object.
Political correctness, which lacks the subtlety of the Belgian painter, is on the way to forcing us to never call anything by its name. And let alone the woke movement! One of the most alarming defects of the current political class is that it insists on turning non-fiction, that is, the harsh reality, into pure fiction, with many blacks (excuse me) and advisors not voted in the polls preparing this story. which becomes more and more dystopian.
In this hectic and exhausting electoral year, it would be a great detail if they printed “This is not a ballot” at the bottom of the ballots, if it were not for the electronic votes, which it is not clear if they are fiction or non-fiction.
Definitely, it is the politicians who cannot bear much reality; while the voters have no choice but to suffer their damage, lies, hoaxes, corruption and moral poverty. In order to survive, our democracy must return to real life, to non-fiction, which is ultimately ours.
