Modernist, er, Monday: Se hace camino al sonreír

Antonio Machado does not smile. Here he is chillin' in a hat, resolutely not smiling. OK, you say, but maybe it was just a bad day. Maybe he was just crossing the Pyrenees on foot and half-dead that day. I wouldn't smile about that.


But here's the thing. He's marrying his beloved child/French-student-bride in this picture, and he's STILL NOT SMILING. It's basically the happiest day of his life, and he just can't turn up the corners of his mouth to express that. Even Ian Curtis smiled when he got married, Antonio, or at least he tried really hard. She's only 16, and she's certainly not going to die of consumption two years later. So why so sad?




Luckily, when the Spanish government put an engraving of Machado on a postage stamp, they added just a little smile, even though it doesn't seem to be based on any actual photos of him. Let's hope that wherever Machado is now, he can manage at least that. I think he's earned it.

Latin American Madness! Gabriel García Márquez v. Carlos Fuentes

Let Carlos Fuentes and Gabriel García Márquez explain the Latin American Boom to you...with gestures! "It was really big, and it spread out in all directions," says García Márquez. "Yes," says Carlos Fuentes, laughing, "and had it been a literal boom it would have been very loud! I suppose if you stood near it it might have felt like getting punched in the face by Mario Vargas Llosa, right, Gabo?"

Yes, it looks like fun, but just moments later, Gabriel García Márquez punched Carlos Fuentes in the face.

The Happy, Postmodern Teatime of the Soul

In my ongoing attempt to write about things that the People Who Use the Internet (PWUI) are known to enjoy and occasionally Google, and in light of the fact that Happy Postmodernists reaches its landmark 42nd post today, I'm posting this not-at-all difficult to find picture of happy Douglas Adams! Enjoy, PWUI! "But wait!" say the PWUI collectively, "There's no way he's postmodern! He's just a goofy (awesome) sci-fi author!" Well, that's where you're wrong, dear readers (who may or may not exist), and PWUI (who definitely exist). I'm just going to ask you one question. Would the name Ford Prefect be out of place in a Pynchon novel? Of course not! And I'm pretty sure that if Pynchon had given Pierce Inverarity the name Zaphod Beeblebrox instead, we would have just yawned collectively. At most, we would have affectionately sighed "Oh, Tom," before turning the page. There you have it. Thomas Pynchon and Douglas Adams are definitively the same person. Have you ever seen them together?

I'll leave you with a little game of "Guess The Blurb!" Did Pynchon or Adams write a "ghost-horror-detective-time-travel-romantic-comedy-epic, mainly concerned with mud, music and quantum mechanics?" You tell me, PWUI!

Philip philip philip Glass glass

Happy happy happy happy happy happy postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern postmodern music music music music music.

Also also also:
What did Brian Eno say to Philip Glass? Let us know.

Happiness, or Whatever

Laura Freixas? What are you doing here?! I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There really aren't any non-smiling pictures of this woman. I almost thought she was too cheery to be a postmodernist, but then I remembered that she titled one of her novels "Love, or Whatever." Sounds like she makes the cut! Oh, and she translated Virginia Woolf! Look at this feminist literature love connection.

Un buen año para Miki

I had to go really deep into Google to find this picture, and now I wonder: is José Ovejero happy or extremely distressed? You decide. I'd say the latter based on his books, but he's actually just a really happy family man who loves New Wave. And he has THE BEST GLASSES IN THE WORLD.

Autonauts of the Cosmoroute

I've spent this long, postmodernist-free weekend wondering one thing: Is Julio Cortázar a pirate? And if so, is the pirate's favorite postmodernist Julio Cortázarrrr? Because he really looks like a pirate. The beard, the smirk, the wizened face and the ultra-mod mock-turtleneck/tweed jacket combo all support this theory. Personally, I prefer the clean-shaven Cortázar. He was such a nice young translator. Where did it all go wrong?


Note: I considered giving Julio Cortázar a Captain Crunch hat, briefly. Then I considered going to bed.

Zenobia is to be classified among happy cities

Italo Calvino is one happy postmodernist. So today, we have not one, but three images of Italo being really, really happy. Here we have just the classic smile.

Later, Italo Calvino becomes a jolly, wacky sitcom neighbbor!



Finally, sometimes Italo's happiness is just plain terrifying. But we love him anyway.