H M Pollock sends an extract from an extraordinary tourist guide to Madrid by Camilo Jose Cela, which seems to have lost (or gained) something in translation: 'So it's a case of pulling out of your sleeve, or the top of your head, somewhat casually and without pontification, an informal book about the most informal city of our geography, Madrid, which, in order to differ from its older brothers, aspires to be only a little book and perhaps to feel as giddy and frivolous as the sparrow.
'This book is written with the words which, jumping out of the bushes like a rabbit - serve each one of its corners, and wishes to be easy and bouncy reading, to be left or picked up at any moment without any reservations.
'Madridilenians are for Madrid what the favourite lover is to the street walker: the exploitation, the abuse, the showoffiness . . . Gosh]
'Pedro Ribera can sleep in peace in purgatory: the word of a man of Madrid and the fart of a friar are going with the wind.'
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