CANO, Harkaitz

(Lasarte-Oria, 1975 - )

"As far as I can remember, I spent my childhood in a tree watching the swollen river rush by. Children don't climb trees anymore and the river doesn't rise that high, but those floods and trees appeared in my first book of poetry Kea behelainopean bezala (Like smoke in a low-lying fog, 1994). When I picked the books up at the printer's, I tripped and dropped them all. I thought it was a good sign, as if they had a life of their own.

I am a writer because I have no talent for drawing or music. Those inadequacies, and all my other ones, help me write. You could say that's why my books often have something to do with music, such as Beluna jazz (Dark jazz, 1996) and Pasaia blues (Landscape blues, 1999).

I studied law, but I never worked as a lawyer. I've been doing scriptwriting for a long time. I spent the 1998-99 academic year in New York and ever since then the Brooklyn Bridge has been part of my spine. The chronicle Piano gainean gosaltzen (Breakfast on the piano, 2000) was the product of my stay in New York.

My favorite genre is the short story, as witnessed by Telefono kaiolatua (The caged telephone, 1997) and Bizkarrean tatuaturiko mapak (The maps tattooed on his back, 1998). Tell a novelist to pack a suitcase and he'll organize an entire move. Not the short story writer. He'll only put in the bare essentials. When a short story unfolds, it fits on the kitchen floor like a map of the city.

My last book was Norbait dabil sute-eskaileran (Someone's on the fire escape, 2001)."

(Cano, H., "Biography", in An Antology of Basque Short Stories, Center for Basque Studies - University of Nevada, 2004).


"Black novels written in the rhythm of jazz or blues, poetry books sprinkled with Basquiat, Boris Vian, Maiakovski, Carver and famous movie directors, Cano's chronicles show that he is a dedicated student of Capote. Such is his literary universe: a desolate modern city, anonymous telephone calls and abandoned streets, bits of stories that speak to us of the lack of love are all found in his minimalist stories. Cano's book Telefono kaiolatua (1997, The Caged Telephone), from which we have chosen the story The mattress, includes elements both black and absurd. As in the short stories of the masters Chekov and Carver, humble elements and details report on the protagonist's inner life, with compelling comparisons and metaphors in which to delight. The old and stained mattress which serves as an x-ray of the protagonists' lives, or the agreements which function as premonitions, situate us in a story in which apparently little happens."

(Olaziregi, M.J., "Foreword", in An Anthology of Basque Short Stories, Center for Basque Studies - University of Nevada, 2004)


Although the publication of poetic works has declined since the 1990s, new interesting voices have joined the literary world in the last few years. Ricardo Diaz de Heredia (Kartografia ("Cartography", 1998)), Miren Agur Meabe (Azalaren Kodea ("The Code of the Skin", 2000)) and Kirmen Uribe (Bitartean heldu eskutik ("In the Meantime Hold My Hand", 2001)) are but a few examples. In addition, the group of writers associated with the magazine Susa and writing more breakaway, underground poetry - Izagirre, Aranbarri, Nabarro, Montoia, Otamendi and Borda - has grown, and now includes the new voices of Olasagarre (Bizi Puskak ("Pieces of Life", 1995)), Cano (Norbait dabil sute eskilarean ("There's Someone at the Fire Escape", 2001) and Jon Benito."

(Olaziregi, M.J., "A Brief Introduction to Basque Literature", in Waking the Hedgehog. The Literary Universe of Bernardo Atxaga, Center for Basque Studies, 2005).


Further information about the author:

Š Beluna jazz: Susa

Š Pasaia blues: Susa