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On September 11th, one of the most important figures of Spanish literature of our century passed away: Javier Marías. Izaro Díaz , a student of Philology Hispánica, dedicated these words to him on the day the writer would have celebrated his birthday. Izaro introduces us to the author, shares with us the relationship she has with his work and invites us to immerse ourselves in his exciting artistic production.

When Javier Marías was immortal

I write these lines on September 20 under a hopeless haze. Today Javier Marías would be 71 years old. I must confess, first of all, that I do not deserve to keep his memory among my words, since I do not meeting myself among the armchairs of his most faithful readers and, on more than one occasion, I have hidden his image behind the shadowy wing of his father, Julián Marías.

However, a few months ago I was asked which Spanish writer deserved to be awarded a award Nobel Prize and the truest answer, the impulsive and instantaneous one, was the one that bore his name. The name of the one that some have already dubbed as the monarch of time. And the truth is that his death put an end to my insistence and that of many people who begged for his award. Because the mind with which he used to write a first paragraph and then he could write a novel disappeared, but an eternal voice will remain in the report of all his readers.

Likewise, this brief text not only intends to be an outline of the admiration with which I bid farewell to a magnificent novelist, but, as a student of Philology Hispánica, I also want to remember him as an excellent publisher, translator, essayist and, above all, to underline his already more than commented facet as a member of the RAE, occupying chair R, thus coinciding with other great figures such as Mayorga, Pérez-Reverte or Antonio Muñoz Molina. In fact, one can understand the remarkable literary experience of Marías when they also lower the prestige of the Nobel Prize because their colleague did not receive it before his death, as I myself did with more tears between the pages of his books than in my eyes.

Javier Marías used to say that telling was a gift and he decided, for fifty years, from the publication of The domains of the wolf in 1971 until the publication of Thomas Nevinson in 2021, to dedicate his life to entrusting us with his stories, and to create a bond between reader and writer so fragile that it can only be maintained when what is narrated has not existed. So, I would like to ask you, reader, now mine and then and always yours, the favor of continuing to read his work. It doesn't matter if they are his articles, short stories or any of his many novels. Read to alter reality and let this text tell what has never happened, which, in the end, is his death.

_{Photo: Chema Conesa, 'El País Semanal' (1992), El País}

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