The conversation between author and audience is happening again.
Cuando una pandemia desplazó la gran feria del libro de Madrid de su lugar habitual en primavera, el barrio de Puente de Vallecas no esperó a que el otoño devolviera la tradición. En el Boulevard de Peña Corbea, la quinta edición de su propia feria del libro —activa hasta el 30 de mayo— ha reunido a escritores y lectores en ese intercambio silencioso pero esencial que los meses de ausencia habían suspendido. Es un recordatorio de que la cultura no necesita siempre grandes escenarios para sobrevivir: a veces basta con un barrio que decide no renunciar.
- La pandemia canceló la Feria del Libro de Madrid en 2020 y obligó a trasladar la edición de 2021 al 10-26 de septiembre, rompiendo ochenta años de tradición primaveral en el Retiro.
- El hambre de libros y autores no aguardó al otoño: Puente de Vallecas montó su propia feria por quinto año consecutivo, llenando el hueco con presentaciones, lecturas y firmas.
- Escritores como Consuelo López-Zuriaga —finalista del Premio Nadal— y Fernando Sánchez-Dragó se sentaron frente a sus lectores, restaurando el diálogo que el virus había interrumpido.
- La feria adapta sus horarios a la vida real del barrio: tardes entre semana y mañanas y tardes los fines de semana, para que nadie tenga que elegir entre trabajar y leer.
- El evento funciona como preludio cultural de la gran celebración: cuando Madrid conmemore el 80 aniversario de su feria en septiembre, Vallecas ya habrá recordado a la ciudad lo que significa volver.
La primavera madrileña tenía un rito conocido: recorrer el Retiro entre casetas, hojear libros, pedir una firma. La pandemia lo borró el año pasado, y en 2021 la gran feria ha tenido que ceder su lugar habitual al otoño, cuando la ciudad celebrará el 80 aniversario de la tradición. Pero el deseo de libros no ha sabido esperar.
En el Boulevard de Peña Corbea, en Puente de Vallecas, una feria más pequeña ha ocupado ese espacio vacío. Hasta el 30 de mayo, los vecinos —y quien quiera acercarse— pueden hacer lo de siempre: curiosear, comprar, pedirle a un escritor que estampe su nombre en una página. Es la quinta edición del certamen del barrio, una respuesta modesta pero resuelta a la ausencia de la gran cita.
El sábado, cuatro autores tomaron la palabra. Jorge Molist presentó su novela sobre una reina solitaria; Javier Rupérez ofreció sus crónicas de la pandemia, nombrando el tiempo que todos siguen viviendo; Pepa Bueno habló de vidas robadas; y Consuelo López-Zuriaga, finalista del Premio Nadal este año, leyó fragmentos del libro que la llevó a ese reconocimiento. El domingo fue el turno de Julia Sabina, Henar Álvarez y Fernando Sánchez-Dragó, que compartió relatos breves con el público.
La feria es pequeña comparada con lo que ocurre en el Retiro, pero es real: los libros se venden, los escritores conocen a sus lectores, la conversación interrumpida vuelve a suceder. En septiembre llegará la celebración mayor. Por ahora, Vallecas ha dado a su gente —y a Madrid— la oportunidad de recordar lo que echaba de menos, y de empezar de nuevo.
The spring ritual that Madrid readers had long taken for granted—wandering through the Retiro Park in May, moving between book stalls, collecting signatures from writers—disappeared last year. The pandemic shuttered the city's famous book fair, leaving that particular pleasure suspended. This year, the main event will arrive late, pushed from its traditional spring slot to September, when the city marks eighty years of the tradition. But the hunger for books and authors has not waited.
In the Puente de Vallecas district, on the Boulevard of Peña Corbea, a smaller fair has stepped into the gap. Through May 30, readers can still do what they came to do: browse, buy, ask a writer to sign their name on a title page. This is the fifth year the neighborhood has mounted its own book fair, a modest but determined answer to the larger absence. The program is dense with activity—readings, author presentations, signings—a concentrated dose of literary life for a district that has decided not to wait for autumn.
On Saturday, four writers took the stage. Jorge Molist brought his novel "The Solitary Queen." Javier Rupérez presented "Chronicles of the Pandemic," a work that names the moment everyone is still living through. Pepa Bueno offered "Lives Stolen," a title that carries its own weight. And Consuelo López-Zuriaga, who reached the final round of Spain's prestigious Nadal Prize this year, read from "Perhaps in Autumn," the work that brought her to that recognition. The fair's schedule accommodates working people: weekday evenings from 5:30 to 9 p.m., and weekend hours that stretch across the day, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and again from 5:30 to 9:30 p.m.
Sunday brought its own roster. Julia Sabina presented "Lives of Samurai." Henar Álvarez discussed "Bad Blood." Fernando Sánchez-Dragó, a writer known for his essays and storytelling, offered a reading of short fiction. The fair is modest in scale compared to what unfolds at the Retiro, but it is real. Books are being sold. Writers are meeting readers. The conversation between author and audience, which the pandemic interrupted, is happening again.
The larger celebration will come in September, when Madrid's book fair reaches its eightieth anniversary. That event will reclaim its traditional place in the city's cultural calendar, though not in its traditional season. For now, Puente de Vallecas has given its residents—and anyone willing to travel to the Boulevard of Peña Corbea—a chance to remember what they missed, and to begin again.
Citações Notáveis
The fair offers readers a chance to purchase books and meet authors despite pandemic disruptions— Event organizers
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does a neighborhood book fair matter when the city's main event is coming in September anyway?
Because people need it now. The pandemic took away something ordinary and necessary—the chance to hold a new book, to ask an author a question. A smaller fair doesn't replace the big one, but it answers an immediate hunger.
Is this fair new, or has Puente de Vallecas always done this?
It's been running for five years, but this year it carries different weight. It's not just a neighborhood event anymore. It's a placeholder, a way of saying the literary life of the city didn't stop, even when the main fair had to.
The main fair is moving to September. That's a big shift from spring.
Yes. Spring at the Retiro is what Madrileños knew—the season, the place, the whole rhythm of it. Moving to September is a practical choice because of the pandemic, but it changes something about the experience. The neighborhood fair is still in May, still in spring. It's a different kind of continuity.
Who's coming to read and sign books?
Writers at different scales—some well-known, some reaching wider recognition now. Consuelo López-Zuriaga just made the final of the Nadal Prize. Fernando Sánchez-Dragó is an established essayist. They're not all household names, but they're serious writers, and they're showing up.
What does it tell you that a district would organize this during a pandemic?
That literature matters to people in ways that don't disappear when things get hard. The fair is small, the hours are practical for working people, and it's happening anyway. That's not nothing.