On one occasion, I overheard journalist Enric Juliana remark that Spain generates more political discourse than it can absorb. A similar phenomenon occurs with annual “best of” lists, which, much like Christmas commercials, appear earlier each year.
In truth, I’m not particularly fond of these compilations. Creating them might be a fun pastime, even a survival tactic (just ask Nick Hornby’s protagonist in “High Fidelity”). However, their ambition to be a definitive canon, a spectacle catering to all tastes, is unconvincing. The former is untrue; the latter, unattainable. Reality tends to be less prescriptive.
The titles featured in various “best of” lists are certainly noteworthy. That isn’t the issue. The problem, in my view, is that popularity votes aren’t a reliable method, lacking the input of specialized critics to confirm the literary landscape’s diversity and richness. These lists resemble a bookstore display showcasing its wares (nothing wrong with that), yet attempting to present themselves as universally definitive. This approach overlooks the reader as an individual, a capricious entity whose tastes sometimes converge. My affiliated newspaper asked me to select my favorite Spanish-language narrative of the year. Truthfully, I’ve been compiling such a list throughout the year, and if I’ve highlighted works by Mariano Peyrou, Pilar Adón, or Jon Bilbao, it’s because I consider them worthy of any top-three ranking.
Every relationship has its flaws, and the biggest one in my selection is that both authors have received the “Tigre Juan” award.
I won’t shirk my duty; I’ll share my picks for outstanding Spanish-language narrative works from 2021. While I anticipate some disagreement, I’ll only mention those books that truly captivated me—a quality I consider essential in literature. Two stand out: “Cherries in the hideout. Journalistic texts 2011-2020” by Tomás Sánchez Santiago (Eolas editions) and “Los domingos” by Guillem Martínez (Editorial Anagrama). Both beautifully blend journalism and literature. Sánchez Santiago’s work stems from his contributions to El Norte de Castilla newspaper, while Martínez’s book is compiled from his weekly columns in the online magazine Contexto.
Both authors exhibit a measured, meticulous style; a subtle poetic sensibility and understated dissent. Santiago, in a piece about neighborhood shops, perfectly describes the tone and purpose of the selected titles: a seemingly insignificant, yet invaluable treasure.
I’m relieved I resisted the urge to create an overly refined, pretentious list, boasting only of rereading Joseph Roth’s “The Radetzky March” and Mikhail Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita” (though either, or both, would certainly satisfy many readers).
Even concise lists have shortcomings, and mine is glaring: both authors have won the “Juan Tiger Award,” a prize I judged until this year. This is no coincidence. But contrary to popular belief, the reader doesn’t validate the book; the reverse is true.
Perhaps I’m an outdated relic, clinging to the past, but until my enthusiasm completely vanishes, I intend to continue exploring literary works and sharing my thoughts.
Hidden Gems
Thomas Sanchez Santiago
Eolas Ediciones, 272 pages
18 euros
Weekly Rest
Guillem Martínez
Anagram, 278 pages,
18,90 euros
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## The Tyranny of “Best Of” Lists: A Critic’s Perspective
The proliferation of “best of” lists, arriving earlier each year like unwanted Christmas commercials, is a phenomenon Enric Juliana aptly described as Spain generating more political discourse than it can absorb. This insightful observation holds true for the literary world as well. The recent article I’ve reviewed (No URL provided in Article) perfectly captures the inherent flaws in these popularity contests masquerading as definitive literary canons.
The author rightly points out the inherent limitations of relying solely on popularity votes to determine literary merit. While acknowledging the noteworthy titles frequently featured on these lists, the article emphasizes the critical absence of specialized input. These lists, much like a bookstore display, showcase available titles but fail to represent the nuanced richness and diversity of the literary landscape. They reduce the individual reader, with their unique and possibly capricious tastes, to mere consumers rather than discerning participants in a larger cultural conversation. The result is a superficial flattening of literary excellence. Websites like Goodreads [[1]], Ranker [[2]], and Listverse [[3]] all contribute to this phenomenon, creating a constant stream of “best of” lists across various categories. Note that these websites are not mentioned directly in the reviewed article but support the overarching discussion about the prevalence of such lists.
The author’s personal experience of curating a “best of” list for their affiliated newspaper highlights this tension. Their selection of Mariano Peyrou, Pilar Adón, and Jon Bilbao, all Tigre Juan award winners, acknowledges the inherent biases in such choices, even when made by those with expertise. The article uses this to illustrate the inherent difficulty in creating truly objective “best of” lists. It’s almost inevitable that the selections will reflect a personal sensibility, especially when the selection implicitly reflects the judges’ own perspective on the literary landscape.
The author further underscores this point by revealing their own choices for outstanding Spanish-language narrative works of 2021: Tomás Sánchez Santiago’s “Cherries in the hideout” and Guillem Martínez’s “Los domingos.” Both are beautifully crafted blends of journalism and literature. The author avoids falling into the trap of creating a pretentious list, resisting the urge to simply list classics like Joseph Roth’s “The Radetzky March” or Mikhail Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita,”
