An essay defends the founder of Postism. Professor José Manuel García Gil signs a study which deeply analyzes one of the most unusual and suggestive poets of the 20th century.
The hard part of placing Carlos Edmundo de Ory within the panorama of 20th century Spanish poetry is that Ory does not fit into a mold, nor a fixed place, nor does it seem this empty space mattered to him.
Carlos Edmundo de Ory, starting with his name, has a distinctive distinction. He is a poet, but he was more than a writer. A dissident, but not exactly an outrageous one. A man made of literature who lived in constant change before the threat that some certainty could settle him down in life. He was born in Cádiz in 1923 and died in Thézy-Glimont, France, in 2010. His biography is a revelry of loneliness, of games won, of difficult days. Like so many others, one of the sins of the author of Música de lobo (Music of the Wolf) was his self-exile and death outside of Spain. As if it wasn’t already difficult enough to keep a place up from the inside, making life on the outside is an early passport to oblivion. Professor José Manuel García Gil has given shape to the immeasurable and has put together a book which allows us to know the mechanics of a man disassembled: Prender con keroseno el pasado (Ignite the Past with Kerosene), winner of The 2018 Antonio Domínguez Ortiz Award, and a biography of Carlos Edmundo de Ory published by the José Manuel Lara Foundation.
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