The sky is angry with Sant Jordi in Catalonia

Sellers of a book stall try to protect their exhibitor from the hail that fell in Barcelona. CRISTOBAL CASTRO (EL PAÍS)

The sky has been cruelly cruel to Sant Jordi on the Day of the book and the rose in Catalonia.

A chaotic day that has started with the best wishes and masses of people in the streets, presaging a historic day, but which has given way to showers, hail and strong gusts of wind at noon that have mistreated street stalls and discouraged many walkers .

After a morning of crowds that happily packed the center of Barcelona —the literary

arranged by the City Council, equivalent to 20 football fields and closed to traffic—, the stormy phenomena that became general in the afternoon on a very crazy day throughout Catalonia have radically changed the scene, giving way in some sectors to images worthy of a war zone or catastrophe.

More information

Rain, hail and wind in Sant Jordi: "This is hell for a bookseller"

The stand of the La Central bookstore on Passeig de Gràcia has literally flown to fall on another neighbor, causing some minor injuries (a young woman with a broken arm), which has forced the firefighters and health teams to intervene.

Everywhere along the avenue where the selling and signing activity was concentrated could be seen overturned tables, soaked books, in some cases very valuable volumes, beyond salvation.

A bookseller's nightmare the day of the best dreams of him.

In total, damage (pending to quantify and to know if they will be covered by insurance) and three minor injuries.

However, what has been a drama for the book has not been for the rose.

The Guild of Florists of Catalonia has communicated that "surely" the goal of selling six million units will be met.

There have been no damages, they added, because the florists "were very prepared and it was easy for them to cover the roses."

The Chamber of the Book of Catalonia has, however, made a positive general balance of the festival, lamenting the most serious damage caused by time to the booksellers that they assure that they will assume.

by Santiago Posteguillo,

as the best-selling fiction book in Spanish , along with

by Eva García Sáenz de Urturi;

and in Catalan,

, by Empar Moliner.

In non-fiction in Spanish,

by Ángel Martín;

and in Catalan,

by Toni Cruanyes.

In the early afternoon, after enduring several downpours, many considered dismantling the stalls and ending the fair.

And some did.

So, the very layout of the wide pedestrian area, with access prohibited to vehicles, has been revealed as an obstacle to collecting the material.

“A disaster”, pointed out the owner of La Central, Antonio Ramírez, before the ruin that the bookstore booth had become.

The day, paradoxically, had started very well.

After an early morning rain, it had cleared up with the promise that Sant Jordi would return to normality, without restrictions, distances or masks, it was going to be just that, normal and perhaps extraordinary in terms of participation and sales (the Book Chamber has considered that the

has interrupted a Day that could have exceeded that of 2019).

There was a lot of desire and Barcelona already presented a sensational appearance in the morning, with rose stalls on every corner of the city and the white awnings of the book stands like a long backbone of literature and illusions along the entire promenade. Funny.

Meanwhile, at the traditional breakfast offered at City Hall —without plastic cups, environmentalism obliges— the participants, authors and editors, and before the host mayor, Ada Colau, the second vice president and Minister of Labor, Yolanda Díaz (in her first Sant Jordi), and the Minister of Universities, Joan Subirats, the town crier, Imma Monsó, reeled off a sort of Decalogue on “the literature I love”.

Among other things, a literature "capable of creating readers and not just counting readers."

A litany that seemed to encourage all those present, hundreds of writers, to go out into the streets to give their best (after the vitalizing chocolate and the famous

of municipal cream).

The weather didn't worry too much.

“A downpour comes in handy because people stay in the city,” noted an editor in a huddle who would have laughed at Noé.

Among the writers, the blind novelist and historian José Soto Chica who signed for the first time.

"I like the adrenaline rush of contact with readers, listening to them," he enthused.

At mid-morning the appearance of the promenade, where the offer was concentrated, and its surroundings was magnificent, with festive crowds making long queues in front of the most desired authors and traffic jams in some sections, such as in front of Casa Batlló, decorated with roses.

Some, warned, carried umbrellas, but they were seen as party poopers (and never better said).

The only threat from the sky seemed to come from the fluff and pollen from the plane trees that caused many passers-by to rub their eyes, sneeze and cough.

Among the signatories, Rigoberta Bandini's queues stood out (“Look, the one with the tits!” pointed out a passer-by), who signed her little book

those of Pablo Iglesias in his first Sant Jordi, with

those of the chef Karlos Arguiñano or the singer Álvaro Soler, also a first-timer, with his book

which deserved a day more in keeping with its title.

Santiago Posteguillo signed with Iglesias, which allowed a juicy silent dialogue between the former president and César's novelist.

A passer-by reminded Posteguillo of the inclement weather on Hadrian's Wall without imagining the weather ides that were coming.

The mediatic Carles Porta signed copies of his

, one of the best sellers, standing in the street before a long queue.

An endearing image offered, also with long queues, the cartoonist Pilarín Bayés, 81, with a straw hat, who signed one of her books to a girl, Ona (in her first Sant Jordi), with the drawing of a princess.

Next to her, some young people practiced their Greek with Theodor Kallifatides while the author signed a copy of

In the Gigamesh booth, the fantastic genre store, they showed horrors like those of Lovecraft or Jack Ketchum, without imagining the horror that was upon us.

At one o'clock in the afternoon, when the party was in full swing, some dark clouds that came from Tibidabo like that gloomy day in Pompeii came from Vesuvius, took over the sky and suddenly unleashed a spectacular hailstorm.

People have run terrified (and wet) to take cover.

It has been a matter of 15 minutes and the sun has risen again, which has caused the beautiful image of the passers-by applauding en masse to the sky.

But it has turned out to be a mirage.

People have filled the flooded streets again and soon the sky has done its thing again.

And so all day, torn between happiness and water.

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