{"id":35259,"date":"2025-12-01T08:33:32","date_gmt":"2025-12-01T07:33:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/europeanreviewofbooks.com\/a-madmans-tale\/"},"modified":"2025-12-01T10:49:23","modified_gmt":"2025-12-01T09:49:23","slug":"a-madmans-tale","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/europeanreviewofbooks.com\/ca\/a-madmans-tale\/","title":{"rendered":"Contalla d’un orat"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\u00ab \u2014Tot va ser, passe a creure\u2014comen\u00e7\u00e0\u2014, per enfellonir-me d\u2019aquella mena de fluixedat de cap que agaf\u00e0 al meu pare. \u00bb<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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Enric Valor amb la seua dona Merc\u00e8<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Who was Enric Valor?<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Enric Valor<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Enric Valor (1911-2000) is one of the most important Valencian authors of the 20th century. He is primarily known as a novelist and grammarian. At a time when the Catalan language (of which Valencian is a regional variant) was under threat from the cultural bulldozer of the Franco regime, which condemned the use of anything but Castilian Spanish in public communication, he went to great lengths to disseminate knowledge of the language through writing grammars and linguistic studies (as well as teaching it to fellow inmates when he was imprisoned by the regime for his cultural activities). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Apart from his extensive labors as defender and disseminator of Valencian, he is the author of five significant novels, including The Cassana Cycle<\/em>, a trilogy depicting the life and landscape of his times and homeland (Castalla, in Alicante). He also wrote 36 Rondalles Valencianes <\/em>(Valencian Folktales), which he collected from locals in towns and villages of Alicante and modified into elegant literary versions set in the specific locations and landscapes of his homeland. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A translated selection of these tales is forthcoming with Routledge under the title Valencian Folktales<\/em>, introducing his stories to an English-speaking audience for the first time. The book is edited by Valor\u2019s granddaughter, linguist Maria-Llu\u00efsa Gea-Valor, together with Paul Scott Derrick, and includes a study of Valor and his work. In the collection’s introduction, she writes about her grandfather, who grew up in a rich and culturally refined family in the countryside: Landowners who went bankrupt and then became part of the struggle of the working class in the city they had to move to. Valor soon turned to political and cultural activism, like many other Catalans in the time of the Republic and under the threat of Franco’s fascism. In the civil war Valor fought on the losing side of the Republicans, and was witness to the war\u2019s horrors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1936, the train that sent the only copy of the manuscript of Valor\u2019s first novel (El misteri del Canadian<\/em> or The mystery of the Canadian<\/em>) to his publishing house in Barcelona was bombarded, and the manuscript was never recovered. The regime made victims of books, too. Luckily we have his later work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Close<\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

El vellet feia un posat calm\u00f3s i resignat; una alegria melangiosa llu\u00efa als seus ulls blavencs i petits. El metge li havia dit que tinguera confian\u00e7a en mi i que m\u2019ho cont\u00e0s tot. Ell em parl\u00e0 com si ens hagu\u00e9ssem conegut de tota la vida.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Est\u00e0vem asseguts al davant de la bella resid\u00e8ncia, rodats d\u2019horts de palmeres i llimoners. A unes braces de nosaltres, remorejava blanament la mar en les pedretes de la platja. Era pel mar\u00e7 i regnava un bell\u00edssim sol; l\u2019ambient estava aromat i quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

El que el vell em va contar era una estranya, fant\u00e0stica i subjectiva realitat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u2014Tot va ser, passe a creure\u2014comen\u00e7\u00e0\u2014, per enfellonir-me d\u2019aquella mena de fluixedat de cap que agaf\u00e0 al meu pare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Quin pecat m\u00e9s gros! No li sembla?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tot ha pervingut d\u2019aqueix pecat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Qu\u00e8 esdevenia? \u00bfPer qu\u00e8 em causava f\u00e0stic i desfici, en lloc de caritat i voler, aquell caduqueig natural als seus setanta-tants anys? Jo crec que va ser quelcom del Diable. S\u00ed, senyor; no se\u2019n riga. Del Diable! \u00bf\u00c9s que per ventura no estem segurs que existix com nosaltres mateixos? \u00bfI no pot ser cert, tamb\u00e9, que vaja per les muntanyes i tot, on hi ha \u00e0nimes per temptar com pertot arreu?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jo eixia a pasturar els meus animalons all\u00e0 dalt la serra d\u2019Onil, en el mas que era meu. I \u00bfqui no em diu que quan m\u2019a\u00efrava per si les cabres del ve\u00ed em rosegaven un pinet, o per si la dona gastava massa, o per si el fill creia jo que no m\u2019obe\u00efa prou, no era que \u201cell\u201d trescava per aquella rodalia? A voltes no feia vent, i jo veia clarament que es bellugaven les branques d\u2019un pi. No seria que l\u2019Enemic m\u2019anava ronsejant?…<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Un dia, mon pare, tot prenent el sol en el pedr\u00eds de davant la porta, em va preguntar no s\u00e9 quin destrellatament, de si era dimecres o de si anava ja a tancar les cabres a la cleda. Em puj\u00e0 una c\u00f2lera!… Alc\u00ed la m\u00e0 i li vaig colpejar la galta prima i ossuda. Aix\u00f2 vaig fer! \u00bfVeritat que llavors el Mal Enemic botejaria de goig per all\u00ed pel nostre voltant, mentre el meu cor es negava de r\u00e0bia sense motiu? Era el meu egoisme, la meua gasiveria lletja. \u00bfEm feia nosa que caduqueg\u00e9s el pare, o era potser que em recava el pa que li donava? Vaig mirar el pare i tenia una bla\u00fcra on l\u2019havia colpejat; unes grosses ll\u00e0grimes li queien per les galtes. Per\u00f2 no em vaig entendrir.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo vull boigs en casa!\u201d, li vaig cridar a l\u2019orella.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

La meua dona no ho veia gens b\u00e9. Estimava el sogre; per\u00f2 aix\u00ed i tot, m\u2019ajud\u00e0 a dur-lo a casa del meu germ\u00e0, all\u00e0 a la vila d\u2019Ibi. Cinc hores vam esmer\u00e7ar per la senda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I van passar els anys, i el pobre de mon pare es va morir sense tornar-me a veure. Enmig de la seua bogeria, em tenia por; si m\u2019anomenaven davant ell, esguardava la porta i es posava a tremolar. Aix\u00ed, almenys, m\u2019ho contaren.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jo em fiu vell, i temia un c\u00e0stig del nostre Senyor. Tal vegada\u2014pensava sovint\u2014caduquejar\u00e9 jo i no trigar\u00e0 gaire; per\u00f2 no. Ja ho veu!… Ara, que quin misteri hi ha ac\u00ed? En aquesta casa on jo s\u00f3c, haig de suportar una muni\u00f3 de gent que estan molt m\u00e9s boigs que no ho estava el pobre pare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Veur\u00e0 com va ser tot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jo tenia ja seixanta anys. En fa d\u2019a\u00e7\u00f2 deu. Anava un mat\u00ed per la garriga que volta el meu mas. Les meues cabres queixalejaven el roman\u00ed i el tim\u00f3, que ja eren florits. Caminava pel mig del pinar, cap a la Font de Vistabella, m\u00e9s amunt de Fontalbres, all\u00e0 dalt prop dels n\u00favols, quan tot el ramat dre\u00e7\u00e0 les orelles, i esbufegaren els bocs, i jo no sabia, en veure les seues cabrioles i repropis, si \u00e9s que veien un sacre o si els havia eixit un llop, que tamb\u00e9 n\u2019hi ha alguns per dins del pinar de Patir\u00e0s\u2026 o no s\u00e9 que flairaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014Arri, arri, cabres!\u2014fiu jo, cridant i obrint els bra\u00e7os.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Per\u00f2 no volien caminar. Les manses oloraven terra i botejaven i tiraven enrere, i, \u00e9s clar, m\u2019escarotaven tot el ramat. I totes les b\u00e8sties es congriaven al meu volt\u2026 Ha, ha! Jo, aix\u00ed, rodat dels innocents, semblava el nostre Senyor! I duia el Dimoni dins de mi!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Al que an\u00e0vem. Alce el gaiat i faig rotle, i me\u2019n vaig on les manses ensumaven terra i hi veig unes gotes de sang que s\u2019estenien per damunt les pedres. Les gotes feien rastre, ac\u00ed i all\u00e0, i vaig cap avant, i em seguien les cabres temorenques, i ad\u00e9s trobe uns romanins esclafunyats, ad\u00e9s trobe les branques dels pinatells doblades\u2026 I m\u2019agafa una por\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014Ac\u00ed han mort alg\u00fa i l\u2019han arrossegat cap a algun cingle!\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I anava a tornar-me\u2019n. Per\u00f2 estava encuriosit. Si trobava el mort, \u00bfper qu\u00e8 m\u2019havia de complicar en el crim? Que l\u2019havia fet jo? Ah, per\u00f2 com que la meua consci\u00e8ncia sempre estava astorada\u2026 Tire endavant i arribe en una clarura del bosc, i em veig\u2026 Qu\u00e8 creu? Un gos! Estava gitat, quiet, com a mort, per\u00f2 tenia oberts els ulls grossos i humits, i li queia sang per tot el seu cap clivellat. Tot estava rodat de grossos cantals bruts, amb els quals es veu que l\u2019havien volgut matar. Era un coniller dels bons. Aix\u00f2 jo ho entenc bona cosa. Li vaig portar aigua de la font, li\u2019n tir\u00ed al cap i li vaig donar a beure. Despr\u00e9s, me l\u2019endugu\u00ed a casa, al be, com si fos un anyell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I no ho feia per sentiment. Ho vaig fer com ho feia tot: per gasiveria. El gos era preci\u00f3s, de bona ra\u00e7a, valia diners\u2026 Aqu\u00ed t\u00e9 vost\u00e8 l\u2019explicaci\u00f3 d\u2019haver-me portat com calia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

El guar\u00ed, i el ferm\u00ed a la porta del mas amb una llarga cadena. Per\u00f2 un dia, com que li donava tan poc que menjar, perqu\u00e8 tot em dolia, la trenca, entra en el corral i em mata les tres millors gallines. Me n\u2019an\u00ed a Castalla i el vaig vendre a un ca\u00e7ador. Per\u00f2 tres dies despr\u00e9s, ja el ten\u00edem altra vegada en el mas. El ca\u00e7ador va venir darrere d\u2019ell, i hagu\u00e9rem de tornar-li el seus diners. M\u2019endugu\u00ed el gos a Alcoi i el vaig soltar enmig de la pla\u00e7a Major. Per\u00f2 no es perd\u00e9 tampoc; va travessar serres i va arribar al mas primer que jo. Estava agra\u00eft, l\u2019animalet, per haver-li salvat la vida; no volia deixar-me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Per\u00f2 jo, que pensava ja que no podria treure\u2019n profit, li vaig agafar un odi que no el podia veure. Fermat a la porta, li pegava una palissa darrere d\u2019altra. Tu el pagar\u00e0s, el pa que et menges!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab No li pegues; no el faces patir \u00bb, em deia la dona.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab I l\u2019altre amo, \u00bfno volia matar-lo a cantalades? \u00bb, retrucava jo.  \u00bbDeu ser de mal clim, aquesta b\u00e8stia \u00bb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Potser l\u2019amo era un gasiu que li dolia el menjar \u00bb, em deia el fill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I jo m\u2019a\u00efrava m\u00e9s i m\u00e9s, perqu\u00e8 all\u00f2 era jo per dins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A ella i al xic, el gos els feia molta ll\u00e0stima.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vaig decidir de matar-lo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

El deslligu\u00ed de la cadena, una nit despr\u00e9s de sopar, i li ferm\u00ed al coll un ramal curt. Ell em llepava les mans! Vaig sentir un llamp de remordiment, de pietat; per\u00f2 no, que el meu cor era m\u00e9s avar que gener\u00f3s! Avant! El duria all\u00e0 al barranc de Quitranera. Hi ha all\u00ed un alt penyal. Des de dalt l\u2019estimbaria.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An\u00ed per una senda aspra, per una carena sense bosc. La lluna semblava una coca grand\u00edssima; eixia per damunt del penyal, i els pins solitaris que hi ha se li veien petitons, com si els tingu\u00e9s ella en la seua sina. El coniller em seguia d\u00f2cilment; no calia que li estirara de la corda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A la porta del mas, la dona i el fill s\u2019havien quedat plorosos i cridant:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab No el mates, no! Per a aix\u00f2 el vas salvar? \u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

La lluna allumenava el mas, per\u00f2 jo estava ja massa lluny per a distingir-los. El que s\u00ed que feia \u00e9s sentir-los encara com em deien:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Torna-te\u2019n! \u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Al cap de poc, vaig sentir passes darrere meu. Era la dona! No em deia res.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Qu\u00e8 vols? \u00bb, li faig.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Tinc por que no caigues. \u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Em feia una veu lletja, com si ja s\u2019hagu\u00e9s mort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Arrib\u00e0rem dalt del penyal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

El raig de la lluna pegava al gos de ple. No estava trista, la b\u00e8stia. Li solt\u00ed la corda del coll, l\u2019agaf\u00ed amb els dos bra\u00e7os i el vaig llan\u00e7ar pel tallat. Per\u00f2 el gos no caigu\u00e9 al fons i no s\u2019espeny\u00e0, com jo esperava: qued\u00e0 surant en l\u2019aire, movent les quatre potes alhora com quan van nadant per una bassa, i comen\u00e7\u00e0 a caminar pel mig del cel de la nit, cap a la lluna, i va fer una rialla llarga que em va gelar la sang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Has vist? \u00bb, dic a la dona tot esgarrifat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Per\u00f2 em vaig girar i no era ella; era mon pare, el pobre, tot can\u00f3s i esblanque\u00eft! Com aquell dia!… Encara duia a la cara la bla\u00fcra, despr\u00e9s de tants anys! I les ll\u00e0grimes li queien per las galtes flaques.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Pare! \u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00ab Tu sempre fent males accions, fill \u00bb, em va dir amb veu molt trista. Per\u00f2 em mirava amorosit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I viu que els seus peus no tocaven en terra, i vaig caure agenollat com si estigu\u00e9s davant de Jesucrist, i m\u2019agaf\u00e0 una torba i tanqu\u00ed els ulls, i les estreles llu\u00efen dins de mi.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A la matinada, em trobaren els de ma casa, i els cont\u00ed com se n\u2019havia anat el gos i la rialla que baixava del cel, i la lluna que tenia els pins dins la sina i, sobretot, les paraules de mon pare i les estreles que m\u2019havia dat perqu\u00e8 vetlaren dins meu el meu son.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ho vaig contar, avui i dem\u00e0 i desp\u00fas-dem\u00e0 i l\u2019altre… i ning\u00fa no ho va creure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jo pense que si m\u2019haguera confessat quan vaig pegar al pare, i m\u2019hagueren dit aqueixes coses tan fondes, que fan que plores i te\u2019n penedixques, D\u00e9u no m\u2019hauria deixat en aquesta confusi\u00f3.\u2014<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00ab I guess it all began, \u00bb he said, \u00ab because of that weak-headedness my father sometimes had. 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