Iberia (94 page)

 

Second, with the continued influx of immigrants from
Extremadura and Andalucía, would not the spirit of Cataluña be
watered down until it vanished? ‘Now, now! I’ve just been reading
a fine book on that very subject. You’ve got to read it. Francisco
Candel’s
Los otros catalanes
[The Other Catalans]. It’s a probing
analysis of this very problem, and Señor Candel claims that it
works the other way. The Andalusian comes up here, sees the
wonder of Cataluña…the schools, the hospitals, yes, and the big
factories where men earn a decent wage. Señor Michener, in five
years he’s a better Catalan than I am.’ I said I doubted this because
my experience in other nations had been contrary, to which Dr.
Poal replied, ‘Other nations, yes. But Cataluña is special. Because
we are so mixed in our heritage we are not narrow-minded little
provincials. We have a bigness of spirit…a singing of the heart.
This communicates itself, especially to people like the Andalusians,
who’ve lived in a bitter, narrow world.’

 

As a result of my talk with Dr. Poal, I acquired a typed copy of
Dr. Salustiano del Campo’s research paper, ‘On the Assimilation
of Immigrants in Cataluña,’ completed only a few weeks earlier.
To me its statistics were interesting, because I had already
witnessed in other parts of Spain the passion with which
poverty-stricken families had said, ‘He’s lucky. He moved to
Barcelona.’ Here was a study reporting the results of these moves.

 

‘Why did you immigrate to Barcelona?’ Nearly half replied,
“Because I wanted to find a better life,’ but many made the tragic
confession, ‘In my village I was unable to earn a living.’

 

‘Has the move worked out well?’ More than half replied that
it had exceeded the hopes they had had when they left their
villages. Only ten percent said they had been disappointed.

 

‘What kind of effect has the immigration had on Cataluña?’
Among those moving in, more than half believed that Cataluña
had been lucky to get them; among the Catalans who had to make
places for the immigrants, only a third thought the influx had
been beneficial. About half doubted that the move was for the
best.

 

‘Are the immigrants learning to speak Catalan?’ The testimony
of both the immigrants and the native Catalans among whom
they worked was unequivocal: very few learn Catalan. this is
probably for the good of Cataluña, since it will make assimilation
with the rest of Spain easier, but it must create apprehensions in
the minds of fervid Catalans like Dr. Poal.

 

Then followed a series of tables which I found fascinating. They
reported on Dr. del Campo’s attempt to identify the ‘social
distance’ which separated the various groups of newcomers.
People from twelve regions of Spain, such as Extremadurans and
Andalusians, were listed, accompanied by people from twelve
foreign countries, such as Frenchmen and North Americans. A
variety of questions was then put to Catalans and immigrants
alike, with the results shown in the table on page 665.

 

It is interesting but not surprising that in the choice of marriage
partner both Catalan and immigrant preferred mates from any
part of Spain, even ill-regarded Murcia, to foreigners; religion
had much to do with this, because if one chose a Spaniard, no
matter how lowly, he was at least sure of catching a Catholic. In
all columns the social distance between the Murcian and the
highest-ranking foreigner was considerable.

 

I concluded from my reading of Dr. del Campo’s study that
the dilution of Cataluña was inescapable. Immigration into the
area is more massive than I have been able to convey; word has
gone out to the other parts of Spain that here is the good place
to live and that for generations to come there will be jobs along
the Catalan coast. I would expect the immigration to increase
rather than diminish, for if I were a young Spanish laborer in
some backward Extremaduran or Andalusian village I would cut
out for Barcelona tomorrow. I would be homesick, to be sure,
and I might long for the intimacy and love of my native pueblo,
but it would see me no more. I would not subject myself to its
humiliation when I could live in the freedom of Barcelona.

 

Since my earliest days in Spain I had wanted to see how the
publishing business operated, for I bought many books and knew
a few writers, but always I had been advised, ‘Hold that till you
reach Barcelona. It’s the publishing capital of Spain.’ So one
morning I reported to Ediciones Destino, whose president, Señor
José Vergés Matas, proved generous with his time. He was an
unusually handsome man who looked to be about forty-two with
prematurely white hair and a large mobile face featuring even
teeth and a modern type of eyeglass. ‘The old firms die out,’ he
said gravely. ‘You won’t believe it, but I founded this company.
Yes. First we published magazines and made a big success. This
one here,’ and he showed me his firm’s leader, a magazine of
opinion and news, ‘sells about sixty thousand copies a week.’ I
looked at the cover and saw that it was in its thirtieth year.

 

“Did you say you founded this?”

 

‘Yes. Thirty years ago.’ He was obviously somewhat older than
the forty-two I had guessed. Then he added. ‘I was quite young
at the time, believe me. Today I wouldn’t have the courage. Well,
when the magazines made money we turned to books, and in
Spain that’s an adventure because in this country we don’t have
many readers. In North America you have two hundred million
people.’ I was constantly being surprised at how much educated
Spaniards knew about my country and how little we know about
theirs. ‘Some good books in your country can hope to sell a
hundred thousand copies. In Spain we have one-sixth as many
people, about thirty-four million, so we should expect to sell
one-sixth as many books, or sixteen thousand. How many do you
suppose we do sell?’

 

I knew that Spanish readers bought fewer books than Americans
did, just as Americans bought fewer than En
As a Catalan,
As an immigrant,
If you were to
which region’s people which region’s people
marry, from which
do you like best
?

1 Cataluña

 

2 Valencia

 

3 Baleares

 

4 Basque region
do you like best
?

1 Aragón

 

2 Cataluña

 

3 Navarra

 

4 Castilla
would you choose
?

1 Cataluña

 

2 Valencia

 

3 Baleares

 

4 Basque region
5 Navarra

 

6 Aragón

 

7 Asturias

 

8 Castilla

 

9 Extremadura
10 Galicia

 

11 Andalucía

 

12 Murcia

13 France

 

14 Mexico

 

15 Italy

 

16 Brazil

 

17 Germany

 

18 England

 

19 Sweden

 

20 North America

 

21 Argentina

 

22 Venezuela

 

23 Morocco

 

24 Norway

 

5 Valencia

 

6 Asturias

 

7 Basque region
8 Extremadura
9 Andalucía

 

10 Baleares

 

11 Galicia

 

12 Murcia

13 Mexico

 

14 France

 

15 Brazil

 

16 North America

 

17 Italy

 

18 Germany

 

19 England

 

20 Sweden

 

21 Morocco

 

22 Argentina

 

23 Venezuela

 

24 Norway

 

5 Navarra

 

6 Aragón

 

7 Asturias

 

8 Castilla

 

9 Extremadura
10 Andalucía

 

11 Galicia

 

12 Murcia

13 Mexico

 

14 France

 

15 Brazil

 

16 Italy

 

17 North America

 

18 Germany

 

19 Sweden

 

20 England

 

21 Argentina

 

22 Venezuela

 

23 Norway

 

24 Morocco

glish or Japanese, but I had no idea that the editions of important
books were so minute. Señor Matas said, ‘We’re lucky if we sell
three thousand copies. We print that number, hopefully, and we
keep our costs so low that we break even if we sell twelve hundred.
We put only fifteen hundred in covers. We bind the rest only if
we sell our first effort. If not, and this is usually the case, we throw
away the second fifteen hundred sets of sheets.

‘We pay about the same royalties to authors that you do. On
the first eight thousand copies, ten percent. On the next two
thousand, twelve percent. Above ten thousand copies, fifteen
percent. But not many writers can live off what they earn
publishing books in Spain.’

I had noticed on the shelves lining his office a series of what
looked like novels, all published in the same format and stretching
for some distance around the room. When I asked what they were,
his wide face broke into a smile of satisfaction. ‘One of the best
ideas I ever had. The Premio Eugenio Nadal. He was an editor of
ours. We’ve given this prize each year since 1944, and we’ve found
some sensationally fine books. All novels. In 1947 Miguel
Delibes’

The shadows of the Cypresses Lengthen
, in 1959 Ana María
Matute’s
Earliest Memories
. And of course this one in 1946, José
María Gironella’s
A Man
. Because we’ve held our standards so
high, and partly because of luck, we can assure the author who
wins this prize a sale of at least twenty thousand. He earns some
real money if he wins the Premio Nadal. Maybe four hundred
manuscripts will be submitted.’

Señor Vergés told me that of all the books published in Spain,
ninety percent are handled by Barcelona firms, and of books of
high quality, about ninety-eight percent. Much of the actual
printing, however, is done on big presses in cities like Bilbao.
‘What we’re finding profitable is joint publication with houses in
Italy, Berlin, Geneva and Amsterdam. We bring out expensive
books in color, like the paintings of Goya or

Life in Prehistoric
Times
. We print all the editions, regardless of language, in
Switzerland and especially Italy, which seems to have the best
color presses in the world these days, and this enables us to keep
costs so low that we all make money. But here is something we
do that you don’t do any longer in America, and our authors
appreciate it.’

He pointed to a shelf on which rested thirty volumes, bound
in leather and most handsomely designed, representing the
complete works of a novelist held in much esteem locally,

“When did Pla die?’ I asked.
The
Complete Works of Josep Pla
. ‘They sell for six dollars and forty
cents a copy and large numbers of people feel that they must have
the complete set.’

‘He’s still alive. We do this for our living authors,’ and he
pointed to four or five other such series.

 

I picked up one of Señor Vergés’ books and saw that it was not
in Spanish but in Catalan. ‘There’s a problem for you!’ he said.
‘Of our thirty-four million population, thirty-one million read
Spanish and they will buy three thousand copies of a book. Only
three million read Catalan, but they will also buy three thousand
copies of a book published in Catalan. Therefore, it’s just as
profitable for us to publish in Catalan as it is in Spanish.’ I could
not believe this, but Señor Vergés referred to two editions of
Truman Capote’s
In Cold Blood
, one in Spanish, one in Catalan.
‘The publisher will sell about the same number of each,’ he said.
‘Catalans read. They’re the Bostonians of Spain.’

 

Recalling the way in which English and American authors jump
from one publisher to another, I pointed to the Premio Nadal
novels and asked. ‘When you give a man the prize, are you able
to hold on to him for his subsequent books?”

 

Apparently this was as touchy a point in Barcelona as it was in
New York, for Señor Vergés frowned and said, ‘Alas, the prize is
often the nudge they need to go off to some other publisher. Look
at him.’ He pointed at José María Gironella’s novel, the winner
in 1946. ‘He left us, and you know what happened with his later
books.’

 

Friends had arranged for me to meet Gironella, Spain’s
phenomenal success. His last three books, dealing with the Civil
War, had been tremendously read,
The Cypresses Believe in God,
A Million Dead
and the one currently in the windows of every
bookstore,
Peace Has Broken Out
. Within a few weeks of
publication the last had sold a hundred and fifty thousand copies,
fifty times normal expectations, which would be comparable to
the unheard-of figure of five million for the United States. In
other words, Gironella was the man who broke the restraints of
Spanish publishing.

 

I found him in a neat, book-crowded apartment, with a group
of unexpected works lying handy to his desk: a life of Franklin D.
Roosevelt, a critical study of Lenin, biographies of Gandhi, Stalin,
De Gaulle. William Shirer’s
Rise and Fall of the Third Reich
was
prominent and on a table by the davenport Capote’s
En sangre
fría
.

 

Gironella was a slim, tense man in his late forties, I judged,
although my experience with the publisher had somewhat
unnerved me where guessing ages was concerned. He smiled easily
and said, ‘I’m surprised a norteamericano writer would want to
speak with me. When my first book was published in America,
Spanish Marxists living abroad crucified it and charged me with
being a Fascist lackey. The publisher, I won’t bore you with his
name, wrote and told me he wouldn’t be taking any more of my
books because he couldn’t afford to have a Fascist on his list. Later
somebody told me that the real reason he cut me off was that my
book didn’t sell very well. I’d cut an author off too, if he was a
disappointment financially as well as politically.