Les poètes maudits

The writing process is not always a creative art.

I want to vindicate a forgotten and excellent writer: Heinrich von Kleist.

Literature, like life, is unjust and cruel on many occasions. When I speak of literature, I am referring to the creative art of oral or written expression. I compare literature to life because, according to John, the evangelist, the origin of everything, or the beginning of all things, was the Verb (John 1: 1–3). That is to say, the word (Of course, it is a simplification of the biblical meaning’s analysis).

Once upon a time, when human beings’ communication began, literature surged through the spoken word, not throughout writing forms. The oral narrative is a very remote genre praised by the great Iberian writer José Saramago (1922–2010), the author of The Gospel According to Jesus Christ.

After oral seeding, the seed blossomed in the Bible. It is the written word by excellence because the voice became a sign, a new kind of expression. It mutated, like a genetically programmed pandemic virus (it is very curious to know that the real cellular DNA, the genome, or genetic Bible, is a long text composed of a combination of four letters).

The word written became viral and infected human beings owners of sensitive souls that feel the beauty and look for knowledge. They are those people that enjoy the pleasure of reading.