2
O
viedo
| C
ampoamor
T
heatre
| 24
th
O
ctober
2003
In Shiraz, a place of pilgrimage in honour of the great poet Hafez, I chanced to meet a young
Muslim lady wearing a veil over her face —my guide— who turned out to be a voracious reader.
What foreign authors might have reached such a student under the rule of the Mullahs? Who
did she know through translations? To my surprise, her interest lay in a Spaniard, whom she
wanted to know everything about: Miguel de Unamuno. She could never have guessed the curious
coincidence of our life experiences: fifty-five years ago, Unamuno was also the leading Spanish
writer for me. Then, in the aftermath of the Second World War, existentialist philosophy was the
sounding board of the
Life of Don Quixote and Sancho
. The intellectual climate has since changed,
but Unamuno’s writing has not aged.
That text, for example, which addresses the question of how to write a novel is post-Modernist
in its structure. It was written in the twenties, when Unamuno, emigrating to France, stopped
at the border, overcome by nostalgia for his native Basque land. In this proto-novel, Unamuno
reflects upon the work of the writer and analyses the literary devices employed in works of
fiction, commenting upon their effects on the reader. The main character, poor Jugo de la Raza,
is so appalled on reading a novel that he burns it; but then, seized by curiosity, he races to get
another copy, to rekindle his fears as to how the story ends. The true nature of fiction is highlighted
in this reader’s ambivalence. On the one hand, the author depends on the imagination of the reader,
because only the reader breathes Life into Literature. On the other hand, the reader can only
bridge the gap between Literature and Life by obviating his daily existence. As he devours the
novel, he should allow himself to be consumed by a life of fiction.
Far from taking this paradox lightly —as Italo Calvino does—, Unamuno approaches it with an
existential concern forged of the profoundest of Catholicisms, as set in stone in El Escorial. Only
one book, the Bible, is on a par with the abyss between Literature and Life. The reader —if he is a
believer and assimilates the message of the Bible— can withdraw from his thoughtless life in the
hope of a new life. Having to imitate this model of the “Book of Books” in vain is the writer’s tragedy.
Jürgen Habermas
—
Prince of Asturias Award
for Social Sciences
2003
Excerpt from the speech given on the
occasion of receiving the Prince of
Asturias Award for Social Sciences on
24/10/2003
