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Hedoi Etxarte

• Herausgeber: Alberdania
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Spanisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2010

Beschreibung

Esta novela gráfica es la historia del fotógrafo Joanes Apaolaza y de la profesora Olga Perls. El relato se sitúa en la Euskal Herria actual, pero considerando que en realidad durante los últimos 200 años ha estado bajo el dominio de República Federal Francesa. Joanes Apaolaza es el narrador y los temas principales son la monogamia, el amor, el sexo y la geopolítica entre otros. Se pretende poner en jaque la versatilidad de los procesos. El amor y la conquista son los dos ejes principales de esta novela gráfica. La colonización, las ataduras y la imposibilidad de liberarse de pueblos, culturas, relaciones y cuerpos.

Leseprobe

Título original: Ihes ederra

Primera edición ALBERDANIA: septiembre de 2009

© 2010, Hedoi Etxarte y Alain M. Urrutia

© Portada y diseño: Alain M. Urrutia

© Introducción: 2009, Iban Zaldua

© De la traducción: 2010, Hedoi Etxarte

cc-by-sa

© De la presente edición: 2010, ALBERDANIA, SL

Plaza Istillaga, 2, bajo C. 20304 IRUN

Tel.: [phone]

Fax: [phone]

[email protected]

www.alberdania.net

Impreso en Itxaropena, S.A. c/ Araba, 45, 20800ZARAUTZ

ISBN: 9788498685077

Depósito legal: SS. 1481/10

WHO doesn’t acknowledge the past is condemned to repeat itself: so says the old proverb, and this is how historians and, in general, those who care about the custody of memory justify our existence. For most the effort we make recovering past pieces and putting them into everyone’s hands, seems a waste, nowadays since social priorities and basic necessities are totally different. Citizens are more concerned with the family energy-supply coupons, the ration book special offers, the delivery of potassium iodide pills, the electronic microencyclical of the Only New Church... Many people will fail to understand the need for a recovery operation as constituted by the publishing of this book, even if it should be the fruit of many years. Could the money of taxpayers be better used? It could be argued either way. I would answer in the negative, that our taxes can hardly be better used, nor those paid with money nor those paid in kind. The best public investment we can make is to promote the recovery of books of this like.

On the one hand, because the facsimile you have on your hands is a truly special work, one of the few recovered from those times. As is well known, very few products made out of paper from the mid 20th century to the fourth decade of the 21st century have reached our century safe and sound, because of the fragile chemical composition of the hardware; the number of digitalized works of that time is very few, in general, because most of them were unfortunately destroyed or disfigured by the Super Virus Deleting Wave.

On the other hand, because books combining picture and text like Ihes ederra (the original tittle) were not usual, at least in Basque in the time and the place they were published –in 2009 after Christ, in Irun, in the Basque Free Republic–. Some might take this book as a comic, and others as illustrated literature, but this work goes further, needles to say. The inclusion of the comic in literature is an ancient debate, and my faithful readers know my opinion: is unjust considering only text based works as literature –in fact, many only text based books are not literature by any means–, also some comics should be considered this way, and of course more than those selected by the High Culture. And no doubt, Ihes ederra is one of those.

There is no much data about the authors, apart from the curriculum vitae on the inside of the cover. Apparently, Hedoi Etxarte was an occasional viola da gamba player, but we don’t know whether this was at the beginning or the end of his life –dark sources say she busked on the stairs of Baiona’s underground–, and the only work that reached our time, apart from this Ihes ederra, are individual poems, probably satirical ones –in any case our university philologists don’t agree at that point–. However, about Alain M. Urrutia we don’t even know what the lonely M. means, even though many of his paintings –“Matiné II”, “Estética de la violencia lúdica” and “Stalker”– can be seen in the primitive art section of the Tate Modern gallery. We don’t know where and how they met, what kind of relationship they had, or even if after this work their artistic collaboration continued. Until we hear different from archaeologists and explorers we will have to assume this is their only joint work, and it has been enough to put their names into the history of literature.

It is quite clear that some of the scenes can be offensive to certain readers, mostly those containing sexual intercourse between men and women. Our concern is not to defend the heterosexual procreation –this is not the place to do so, as it is well known that nowadays we have many civil rights movements working to defend those activities–, we should take into account the historical context of the beginning of the 21st century, and that at the time artificial reproduction was not a large spread. In fact, one of the principal themes of this work is the almost invisible link between private relationships and social struggles. That is one of the avenues the authors wanted to lead us down, and for that reason, surely, it was compulsory to introduce images of this nature. Anyway, I would recommend that those who are too sensitive to this topic stop reading right here.

Another virtue of the piece is, undoubtedly, the contribution it provides as a historical source. Even if it is not clear whether the work is a fiction or a documentary –those interested will find some bibliographic details at the end of the book–, it offers a huge amount of clues to understand the historical period, mostly about the profile of some historical characters –and not only Basques, but from all around the world–. As mentioned before, we have enormous gaps concerning those years, and any data, no matter how small, is a vital shape on the way to completing the historical puzzle that this period presents, even if this data should come from fiction. In that sense, as many historians have often underlined Ihes ederra is an essential document to understand many geopolitical details from that epoch.

This edition, as mentioned earlier, is a facsimile, or, better said, an “almost original”, this is an almost perfect copy which improves the common facsimile. To this end the most modern reproduction techniques where used, and even if someone had the chance to turn the pages of the only original in the British Library s/he would never notice the difference; to do so s/he would first, need to open the triple-glass protecting box, something which is absolutely banned at least until it is permitted for by the cabinet’s Geiger meter. What’s for sure is that the reproduction work was particularly complicated and required an expert group to work on it for many months.

The translation into English is in an added annexe, at the end of this edition, both in pages and frames. We discussed the convenience of publishing an English translation replacing the Basque original text. In the end the most conservative opinions prevailed in the group: to make a facsimile to preserve the original composition. We also discussed the meaning of words at some length, as can be seen in footnotes at the end of the book. As Basque is a dead language, and bearing in mind we only partially know its grammar and vocabulary, we consider our work the most exact possible, good enough to satisfy the most perspicacious reader.

At the end of the day, it is up to the reader to judge this indispensable historical work: this is the very first –and, surely last– time the general public will have the opportunity to purchase Ihes ederra. I hope you will enjoy it as much as we did. And I will shut up now.

Professor Iban Zaldua

Department of Medieval History

Pembroke Queen’s College, United Oxbridge University

In the name of Ihes ederra ‘s publishing group

New London, 9th September 2709