What cities are made of

Journalists who write about urban topics are often asked: "How do you see the city?" This question is not easy to answer definitively, because cities have never been a fixed snapshot with recognizable contours and hues.

We often rely on indicators, more or less respected, that take the temperature of metropolises to tell us which is the best place to live, invest, or vacation. But these statistical contributions—which are also frozen images—tend to neutralize each other due to differing and not always honest interests.

In reality, the city is a state of mind. The city is a bad traffic day. A good show followed by a nice dinner at a new restaurant. Your favorite artist passing by. A major investment that will create quality employment. A company leaving. A sick friend recovering thanks to the good work of a leading hospital. A massive demonstration behind a banner you sympathize with. The victory of the mayor you voted for. The one you would never vote for. Your bus packed with tourists. The exorbitant rent. An overlooked district making a comeback thanks to a library. The rise of the local team. The people who live there. Those who lived there. Someone in particular.

Joan de Sagarra is recognized in Barcelona, ​​but in Paris they still don't know that they have lost a passionate chronicler.

Because the city is also built from a succession of personal stories that don't always transcend or fade over time. Stories that deserve to be reclaimed.

The Barcelona of the late Joan de Sagarra is a recognizable city, with well-defined boundaries, which can be traced in space and time from a reading of his generous journalistic work.

In space, it was a Barcelona that over time was reduced to the terraces of its neighborhood, to the few establishments where the spirit was served with style and to friendly bookstores, but which at the same time always maintained emotional connections with the foreign cities that shaped the cultural universe of this journalist and critic.

In the historical context, Sagarra's Barcelona was enriched by his own contributions, emulating the theatrical capitals he so admired: Avignon, Paris, Edinburgh, and Milan. From his political responsibilities, Sagarra promoted the Grec Festival and helped make the Teatre Lliure a reality.

Later, it was his critical spirit—sometimes fierce and ruthless—that warned of the risk of falling into the complacency of cultural cliques, proclaiming the need to keep pace with the times. His Rumbas , republished by Libros de Vanguardia, complement his journalistic contributions very well.

But Sagarra was much more than a chronicler of Barcelona. The critic, who died on Thursday, was also a chronicler of post-World War II European theater, of post-war Paris, and, most especially, a chronicler of the Rue du Bac, its beautiful Parisian street.

In Paris, they don't know it yet, but they've lost an enthusiastic narrator of their literary and emotional landscapes. Little Joan landed with his family at 42 Rue du Bac when his father, Josep Maria de Sagarra, went into exile. There, he could cross paths with André Malraux or the ghosts of Chateaubriand, Madame de Staël, and the painter Whistler, who lived on the same street.

The bar of excellence

For a few years, I had lunch with Joan de Sagarra at the Casa Paloma restaurant. After some initial trial and error, the waiters learned how to serve him Jameson just the way he liked it. But COVID swept through the establishment, and the columnist took it badly; once again, he would have to explain the art of serving whiskey well... Contrary to what it may seem, this wasn't just a pose. He demanded this same level of excellence from theater, literature, and journalism: "It seems incredible that you haven't dedicated a single line to the death of..." That's how our meals usually began, which, despite everything, always ended well.

But the epicenter of his mythical universe was the still-open Deyrolle natural sciences store, where he bought stuffed butterflies and whose two floors he roamed with a gaze that never ceased to be curious. A note to any French expatriates who may read this article: there is a Paris of Joan de Sagarra that should be preserved in memory.

Read also

Barcelona and Paris come out well in the study released this week by the prestigious consulting firm Resonance. According to its ranking, Paris is the second-best European city and Barcelona is the fourth.

But both, since Thursday, have become somewhat more forgetful. They have lost someone who knew how to love them, critique them, and, above all, narrate them with enthusiasm.