Cristina Fallarás offers no insight into her situation. Her book is not a philosophical treatise. It’s art. She gleans absolutely no understanding of anything from her four years of immiseration and lumpenization. At the end of the book, she eagerly recites the same old leftist slogans about climate change and the Catholic Church somehow causing her troubles. (If Spain isn’t within your range of interests and you don’t know if it’s true, here’s a hint: no, it’s definitely not the Catholic Church).
It’s a wonderful book, anyway. We need to imagine ourselves in Fallarás’s situation, we need to inhabit it in our imaginations. When bad shit happens, the worst part is to waste energy on wondering “why me? How could it happen? This is so unfair!”
Yes, there’s no insight but I can give you insight. Art, I can’t make, no talent.
I’m now going to go listen to the book for the second time.
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