This week has reached bookstores "The man who ate ten asparagus ( El Olivo blue) Leandro Fernández de Moratinos. It is a kind of other Moratín. not be fooled. There is an unpublished book Moratin, but a Moratín built like a puzzle from their travel prose and letters. The aim with this assault 1 is rediscovering a huge prose writer, self-forgetting, forgetting-the tostón Moratín we were taught in school. Moratín led a double life, and the fold is interesting. This Moratín and illustrated prose is cynical, nihilistic and romantic, is a guy full of contradictions. This assault 1 is a compilation of texts. In short, I hope, will the assault 2, which will prepare an essay on his work in prose.
As a sign of what was said a few fragments of this man who ate ten asparagus, which is none other than himself Moratín.
A) "I have already noticed, a devoted reader, I do not get the card for this transition, and here's proof that having discussed such deep matters, I will now try and whores pimps. Who can set the number of prostitutes there in Naples? As this exercise has no consideration, as it is not erected in the guild, and not suffer or providers or districts, who can determine how many individuals made up, but go from the gilded palaces of the princes to the smoked corners of the stricken populace? At both ends beauties are easy and the price is different, the contract is the same, no mediators. An intriguing little lawyer, a bodyguard cheat and lost, a hungry Marquis, an abbot modest and subtle, leading up to the most difficult in this genus, and the illustrious suffering from mania in love, and like coats of arms and shields and red barracks and camps gules, be happy, contributing discrete media with gold, or shiny fabrics. The theater is the showcase of Venus, a good telescope, a friend to report the room, and a servant who can take a role, is all that is needed here. The ventaneras form the largest class, close to Palacio, Calle de Toledo and surrounding areas, as well as those of Serraglio, Ponteoscuro and Arrabal de Capua at the opposite end of town, abound in this commercial genre. There are a lot of prostitution, but does not reach Paris or London. "
B)" We'd eat at the inns (posadas where we ate very bad) all that we were three or four cars mentioned. What cast of characters! A Genoese sordid, with his wife and daughter (both horrible), that instead of talking, barking, always complaining about the high cost of groceries, and inns in the doors of the rooms have no lock on the inside , and therefore, all Genoese to sleep in them at risk of being killed. A monk, dressed in Abbe, too fat, always sweating, speaking of bad deliveries and with the weaners and pregnant women, of whom they never took off, was the father retired in Parma, and made coffee come from Venice, wine Florence and Bologna sausages. A slut who had made the campaign of the Piedmont previous year with a girl hanging from a breast, which was conceived in Casteldelfino girl and given birth in Asti. An old ridiculous, so little taught to car, all the way left to vomit and the priest pressed her head and loosened the corset, and tried to persuade her that it was all bad mother and so I arrived at the inns gutted began to burn mattresses and wool to give the old smog, which was a potpourri of hell. A village apothecary, vivarachuelo, ugly, talkative eternal, that while I ate asparagus ten told us where he was, what was his name, where he lived, what had happened in Turin with another chemist who wanted to marry a niece humpback had, in short, his life and miracles, their relatives and friends and neighbors, as he had done and planned to do, likewise told us, though nobody asked. I arrived in Milan on October 10. "
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