BarcelonaI admit it, this is one of the moments I dread when presenting an act or when I’m in the audience. I’m sure you’ve come across it: the turn of questions opens, and there are people who take advantage of it to make speeches that are only of interest to themselves, who begin to explain their lives, and there are those who and everything puts the guest in doubt. Once, a gentleman very sure of himself stood up to tell the sociologist Eva Illouz – an eminence – that she was absolutely wrong. The packed auditorium was wide-eyed at the condescension he used. (By the way, I’ve found that a very high percentage of people who do this are men: that’s not an opinion, that’s my experience.)
Moments like these aside, I like the question part; interesting topics always come up, which you had not considered. I know it’s not easy, that it’s hard to stand up and speak in front of people you don’t know, to ask a question to someone you admire, but when I’m on stage I always try to encourage the audience: “Now he/she you’re here, take advantage, because at home you’ll be sorry you didn’t raise your hand.” I say this from my own experience, because more than once I have left presentations with the question on the tip of my tongue. Why haven’t I done it? Basically, in case it was a stupid question, I’d say it’s a fairly shared fear in these situations. Today, I would like to tell you that there are no stupid questions – I learned this from Oliver Jeffers.
If you don’t know who he is, I’ll sum it up by saying he’s a star artist and illustrator, famous all over the world. When I was doing supposedly children’s books (supposedly, because good books are for everyone, and if they’re bad, don’t give them to children), in the autograph queues the adults far outnumbered the little ones. His latest album is designed for a more adult audience, and here it is being edited again in Catalan by his reference publishing house, the Valencian Andana. After what is happening, its editor, Ricard Peris, got goosebumps when he explained to me that it is titled Start again (trans. Anna Llisterri). Phew. Jeffers considers where we come from, discusses the origin of civilization, and wonders where we are going. He questions himself: what gives him the authority to confront these issues in a book? The answer is quick: nothing. But he has questions, and he believes there are no stupid questions. And if they are stupid questions, it doesn’t matter to him, he asks them in this book, to look for answers and to provoke something in us. The questions revolve around where we are and who we are. He sees the beauty of the world, but also all the terrible that inhabits it.
Start againbut how? Jeffers describes a planet where the “I” is far more important than the “we,” and wonders if we could change that. “I have come to see that people are all, simply, a collection of narratives: those that tell us and those that tell about us, but above all the ones that we tell, both to others and to ourselves.” And if we try to change them? And if we build another story? Jeffers, in his text and his (beautiful) illustrations, is full of optimism and hope. It may seem naive at times, but I’m sure it will move you. This book is proof that stupid questions, if there are any, can make all the sense in the world.
Source: llegim.ara.cat
