The Literary Journey of Alonso de la Torre Through the Endless Country

José Ramón Alonso de la Torre (Cáceres, 67 years old) had many hobbies as a child, which a psychologist friend attributed to the fact that, missing his right arm (which had to be amputated due to gangrene), he felt the need to do "everything" to not feel incapable of "anything". Over time, that restless young man became a high school teacher, basketball referee and coach, theatre director, trade fair organizer, musician, radio and television presenter... and several other professions. Until at the age of 28, he found his true passion: writing for newspapers.

The result of those 40 years of journalistic collaborations is 'An Endless Country' (La Moderna), the latest book by Alonso de la Torre, which collects an anthology of his articles, many of them published in this newspaper. With a bright outlook reminiscent of the best Julio Camba, fine humour and local colour are very present in Alonso de la Torre's talented prose, providing precise and precious insights to better understand the Spain of the periphery, especially his beloved native Extremadura; Galicia, where he taught Language and Literature for many years, and the emptied Spain, which he has roamed as a reporter sent to lost villages and, proudly, as a provincial columnist. Because, as he himself recalls, "Neither does Spain end in Madrid, nor is the world confined to New York."

The pages of 'An Endless Country' have the power to bring a smile. There are doses of history and culture, unforgettable anecdotes, and illustrious writers such as Pío Baroja, Unamuno, Eugeni d'Ors, Ian Gibson, Rafael Chirbes, Andrés Trapiello, or Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio also wander through them. Ferlosio, incidentally, found inspiration for his novel 'The Adventures and Misadventures of Alfanhuí' in Ceclavín, the Cáceres village where Alonso de la Torre's mother hails from, and whose residents are reputed to be "rebellious and indomitable," as the author recounts in 'The Women of Ceclavín Do What They Want,' one of the 82 columns that support the book and delight the reader.

Alonso de la Torre also speaks of the "pleasure of writing," which is not the same "sitting on a porch on a mild evening facing the pasture" as in "a fifth-floor apartment, with the vacuum cleaner roaring, while reggaeton blares and the pressure cooker valve shakes and fills the creative environment with the smell of cabbage." And so he confesses that none of his articles and reports were composed in a little house in the mountains, "but in a small room where there was no space for books and room had to be made for the computer, or in a crowded newsroom full of crazy people who smoked, commented wittily and loudly on any occurrence and only wanted to go down to the corner bar to drink the umpteenth coffee of the day or the penultimate drink," an atmosphere that perfectly describes the newspapers of the 80s, when he began his press collaborations.

The 200 pages of the book are divided into a dozen chapters. In each one, the columns that share a geographical area, characters, or popular traditions are grouped. In the chapter 'Village Matters,' for example, the column 'Trump is not from Torreorgaz' appears, where the author tells the legend linking redheads to this Cáceres locality, or 'Garrovillas and the Reservoir,' where he refers to the population drain of this village after the construction of the Alcántara dam, which forced two-thirds of its inhabitants, including the grandparents of Jordi Hurtado and Jordi Évole, to emigrate.

There is a wide range of articles in the chapters 'To Understand Extremadura,' 'To Understand Cáceres,' 'To Understand Vilagarcía de Arousa,' and 'To Understand Spain.' In the latter, Alonso de la Torre recalls an anecdote that happened to him in Normandy related to his disability. "A group of young Americans stood to attention before me, believing I was a D-Day survivor. I returned the salute and did not clarify the misunderstanding because I liked going from disabled to hero in a flash."

In 'Popular Religiosity,' articles such as 'The Virgin and the Womad' appear, in which the chronicler draws attention to the lack of Marian apparitions since the massive arrival of mobile phones. And in 'Nazarenes and Coffee Shops,' he recounts the many Holy Mondays he spent in Amsterdam accompanying his secondary school students on study trips, and how systematically the Dutch newspapers opened their front pages that day with an image of the Seville Holy Week. Almost always a "Christ with a torn gesture, suffering Nazarenes, or processions occupying the streets" in contrast to the intimacy with which the discreet Protestant 'Oranges' live their religion. "That contrast between private devotion and public display of the religious helps sell newspapers in Amsterdam on Holy Monday," notes Alonso de la Torre.

And do not miss the columns dedicated to the author's mother-in-law, who lives next door and has no qualms about entering his house every afternoon ("though without overwhelming"), 'occupying' his office and the Finnish chair where she sits to read. José Ramón calls her "Sherlock Holmes" because the good woman arms herself with a magnifying glass to read the 'Hoy,' although he confesses that he has become so accustomed to her afternoon visits that when she is not there, he misses her. "And I think missing a mother-in-law is a sensation worthy of psychological study," he acknowledges. One day, seeing her with her optical device browsing the newspaper, De la Torre remembered an anecdote he was told in Galicia. "It turns out that the most-read news in the centenary history of 'La Voz de Galicia' was titled 'He orders a device to enlarge his penis and they send him a magnifying glass.'"