I still remember that dawn when my father took me for the first time to visit the Cemetery of Lost Books. The first days of spring, 1945, had worn off and we walked through the streets of a Barcelona trapped beneath ashen skies and a steamy sun which streamed out over the Rambla de Santa Mónica in a garland of liquid copper.
‘Daniel, what you’re going to see today you mustn’t tell to anyone’, my father warned me, ‘not even your friend Tomás. No-one.’
‘Not even my mum?’ I asked, at half volume.
Catalonia isn’t independent, though many would like it to be, according to the controversial vote last month. So here’s a bonus read from one of my favourite cities, Barcelona (which here always seems to be shrouded in fog, like Holmesian London). A boy called Daniel uncovers a lost library and is permitted to extract a single title, which ends up changing his life, culminating in the obsessive search for a lost book and a forgotten writer. This beautiful novel is a paën to the world of books and to bibliophilia. As one who loves books for their own sake, working in a library which seems all too willing to discard books willy-nilly, I wish there really was a Cemetery of Lost Books where every last book is saved from oblivion! Ruíz Zafón is an addictive writer. If you haven’t yet discovered this wonderful book, I envy you your future joy!
Ruíz Zafón, Carlos (1964 – ): La Sombra del viento, Barcelona, Planeta, 2002, ISBN 84-08-04364-1