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Enrique Vila-Matas
Enrique Vila-Matas was born in Barcelona in 1948. His works include Bartleby & Co, Montano, Never Any End to Paris, The Vertical Journey, winner of the Premio Romulo Gallegos, and Dublinesque, which was shortlisted for the 2013 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. 'February 2008' is an excerpt from his novel Dietario Voluble, published by Anagrama in 2008.

Articles Available Online


Writers from the Old Days

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Issue No. 13

Enrique Vila-Matas

TR. J. S. Tennant

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Issue No. 13

Augusto Monterroso wrote that sooner or later the Latin American writer faces three possible fates: exile, imprisonment or burial.   I met Roberto Bolaño...

poetry

January 2015

Litanies of an Audacious Rosary

Enrique Vila-Matas

TR. Rosalind Harvey

poetry

January 2015

FEBRUARY 2008   * I’m outraged, but I’ve learned a way of reasoning that quickly defuses my exasperation. This...

Ten minutes before the floodwaters arrived, Pak Prawiro died Who knows to where his soul sped off Now only his body remained by his cramped house Stretched out as though he were just sleeping Not a single soul appeared saddened by his death You have to understand, no one knew Pak Prawiro’s origins and background   Five minutes before the floodwaters arrived, a neighbour found Pak Prawiro sprawled on the ground in the cassava patch next to his house ‘Pak Prawiro fainted,’ he said to himself, before enlisting the help of another neighbor in carrying Pak Prawiro into his house ‘He’s dead,’ said yet another neighbour ‘Just check his pulse’   Sure enough, he had no pulse, his heart had stopped pumping, and his body had grown cold They laid Pak Prawiro down on the couch and covered him with a sheet, as if he were napping Someone tied a white cloth around his head so his mouth wouldn’t hang open Another closed his eyes   One minute before the floodwaters arrived, someone shouted ‘Look, the river has reached the top of the embankment!’   ‘Relax,’ another answered, ‘It never floods here The farthest it’s come is up to the road’   No one was thinking it might flood The housing complex had been built seven years ago and the river had never spilled over its banks and flooded They were still in the deceased’s house, wanting to do something for Pak Prawiro, but there was nothing else to be done   ‘The owners of the house will be back soon anyway,’ someone said   Sunset arrived The dusk sky was coloured by bright streaks of orange Office workers were heading home, passing through the neighbourhood gate one by one A yellow paper banner on a pole was fixed in front of Pak Prawiro’s house But people just kept walking by   ‘I’ll go back later,’ they thought, ‘now I’m just too tired’   To be sure, all the neighbours lived together peacefully without disturbing each another but it seemed they didn’t know one other either How could anyone know Pak Prawiro? He was just an elderly man who never talked about himself He could have been 60,

Contributor

August 2014

Enrique Vila-Matas

Contributor

August 2014

Enrique Vila-Matas was born in Barcelona in 1948. His works include Bartleby & Co, Montano, Never Any End to...

Leaving Theories Behind

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Issue No. 9

Enrique Vila-Matas

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Issue No. 9

I. I went to Lyon because an organisation called Villa Fondebrider invited me to give a talk on the relationship between fiction and reality as...

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poetry

May 2016

Two Poems

Sam Buchan-Watts

poetry

May 2016

The Dentist’s Chair       I dreamt of the dentist’s chair, that it wore a smart pair of...

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Issue No. 2

Three Poets and the World

Caleb Klaces

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Issue No. 2

In 1925, aged 20, the Hungarian poet Attila József was expelled from the University of Szeged for a radical...

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February 2013

Famous Tombs: Love in the 90s

Masha Tupitsyn

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February 2013

‘However, somebody killed something: that’s clear, at any rate—’ Through The Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll   I. BEGINNING  ...

 

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