Ana María Moix. Writer. Barcelona, 1947


Among so much empty verbiage, so much pedantry, so much fear of being out of line, what Oscar says, whether in conversation or in writing, is genuinely stimulating. To read or hear what he says is to confront ideas that, far from bearing the standardised stamp of anaemic general opinion, are the fruit of an intelligence and sensibility, which rejects the footholds offered by the universally irrefut-able, and express themselves for their own worth. His conversation and his books are the enthusiastic and unique expression of a way of thinking with which we may not always agree but which certainly will not leave us unmoved. He is one of the few who never fails to surprise with ideas that we have never come across before, even though they may originate in mere (mere?) common sense. An encounter with Oscar, whether direct, that is, in person; or indirect, through his work, is extremely stimulating; as the official definition in our language would have it, he “incites, vividly excites to do something, or propels and enlivens an activity, operation or function.” In short, replacing “thing”, and “activity, operation and function” by “thought”, we can say Oscar Tusquets incites, and stimulates one to think. And thinking is still one of the most pleasant activities that the human being can give himself over to.