From Plutarco to the Simpsons and from César to Maradona: Daniel López Valle, another way of telling history

Daniel López Valle (Elche, 41 years old) states that his intention has never been to demystify history, “because it demystifies itself. You just need to go to Wikipedia.” That was not at all what he was looking for in 2022 with his book H.Ex. (Blackie Books), a pleasant and interesting compendium of extraordinary narratives starring characters on the margins, forgotten or unknown, and marked by the absurd and the accidental, which trace the evolution of humanity, from the Ancient Age to ending the day in that Russia invades Ukraine in 2022. That morning, López Valle decides that, unlike Kafka on August 2, 1914, when Germany declared war on Russia, who went swimming, he will not go to the pool. And look, he likes to swim. The book was a success, and his publisher proposed that he convert the spirit of his stories into workshops that would be taught in Casa Blackie, the label's premises in Barcelona, where this Sherlock Holmes fan and former contestant of Know and Win resides.

It was difficult for him to accept, because he says he is very lazy, but he ended up giving workshop cycles on the 20th century. Structured through eight stories that begin with the assassination of the archduke in Sarajevo, they last just over two hours each and entertain and fascinate around twenty attendees (tickets fly) in each session. “It's a bit like: 'Come, have a beer and I'm going to tell you how Hitler's brother lived in Liverpool a few years before and a few blocks from where the Beatles were formed,' the author points out in regards to one of the many things that make the 20th century so overwhelming. “It has a first half that is a delirium, in which there is a feeling of the end of the story. Humanity, finally, discovers that it can be killed industrially. For example, aviation appears. From the first flight to the arrival of man on the Moon, barely 60 years pass. All this with industrial massacres along the way. After that first half, in which, if you got lost, they would kill you, the fear dissipates and everything explodes. “We're going to grow our hair long and smoke a thousand joints, because any day a nuclear bomb will fall on us.”

Some give September 11, 2001 as the end date of the 20th century; others, the birth of Facebook in February 2004. The writer from Elche believes that he, in reality, died when the iphone in the fall of 2007. “It gave the option to put all that internet stuff in your pocket. The iPhone is putting your head into the universe. It was so big that they copied it immediately, because the fact of carrying a terminal from your first life in your pocket is brutal. Facebook allowed us to live life in public, to believe we were famous, and that is why there are people who tweet or speak as if they were Beyoncé giving an interview or a minister in an official appearance. And that doesn't bother us anymore. But Facebook was on and off and the iPhone made that a part of us 24 hours a day.”

The last session on the 20th century will take place on April 15. On May 6, his next adventure will begin: courses on the history of Barcelona that will consist of four sessions until June 3. “As I am from Elche, I am interested in Barcelona,” reports the author, waving his hands on the desk in his house overlooking the Plaza Monumental. “Not even my girlfriend, who is from here, knows things about the city in depth. When I walk down the street and tell people something about a building, they get excited. Suddenly, the city makes sense. Knowing something about that setting that you inhabit, about the people who lived here before you, makes you connect and furnishes you. I do this all the time, even in Madrid. The other day I was walking with some friends and we passed by the intersection of Hortaleza and Augusto Figueroa, where Lieutenant Castillo was killed in 1936. And I said something that I really like to say when I pass by: 'Look, the Civil War started here.' It's a very nuanced phrase, I know, but every time I say it, people jump.”

Last year he traveled to Rome for the first time. Walking through the forum she stopped at the temple of Saturn. “And I remembered the moment when Caesar, after crossing the Rubicon, enters the city and goes to the temple. There a guy blocks his way, and César tells him: 'Get out of there or I'll kill you… And it's harder for me to say than do it.' He is Maradona in the '86 World Cup, someone who plays for history. That phrase doesn't even occur to the best screenwriter in Hollywood. And that's what I like about reality over fiction: it's absurd and doesn't make sense, but it's real because you live it.” López Valle is fascinated by these stories, from the epic rise of Genghis Khan, who goes from being a slave to dominating the world, only to end up dying after falling from a horse, to the end of the siege of Constantinople, one of his favorites.

He laughs when he remembers it. “Imagine that you are in Constantinople, victoriously resisting the siege. Christianity has left you stranded, you have in front of you an army of hundreds of thousands of people. And, suddenly, a commotion is heard somewhere: the Turks have entered. And they did it because a turkey left a door open, which, well, can happen to all of us. And there the guy must think: 'The door, I'm damned…'. They are going to dismember you, they are going to rape your daughters because you have left a door open. When you tell the story of this you must pay attention to big things and the meaning of the fall of the Byzantine Empire, but what moves me is the turkey on the door.

Would someone like César Vidal agree with this way of understanding the narration of history? “I think the same thing would happen to Vidal as to any person who goes to the past as a tactic to extract arguments for the present. That can be done cynically or maliciously, and I couldn't tell you how he does it. You know, I don't set out to demystify things.” López Valle is not at all a supporter of this battle of dates with which many historical arguments are put together that seek to justify present events. If you start going back from the Nakba of 1948, it may turn out that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict could also be the fault of the Ottoman Empire. Theirs is a way of understanding all this that has little or nothing to do with those fans of the Flanders thirds who flood social networks and who salivate over the memory of the siege of Antwerp or the miracle of Empel. That's perhaps why there are so many women in their workshops. “Let's see, I am as influenced by the Simpsons as by Plutarch, and I enjoy the Roman Empire as much as a soccer match, but I think that the type of story I tell connects more with this feminine vision often expelled from books . The other day I talked about Sisi, and the women connected. Well, it's Sisí, she is not a strange character, we should all know her better, but we live in a perpetual present. This means that there has been less access to commonly used historical knowledge because that knowledge does not belong to this world in which we live. But when we come across that information, we are very interested and amused. It's a bit like what Trotsky said: 'You may not be interested in history, but history is interested in you.'

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