It seemed to me that the different texts that appear in this book needed each other, and that each one of them knew the exact place it had to occupy, and that its limits fitted in so well with those around it as if they were the pieces of a detailed puzzle. I also feared that this collection might be superfluous and banal. Moreover, is it not even contradictory that under the title Against the 'Arrogance of Those Who Read', the mere notes of a reader are printed?

In any case, I like to think of this book as the child of that tension. And of other tensions, such as that between reading and writing. Or the one that asks if there are differences between the writers who read and the readers who write, and if so, what are they? Or the one that seeks the last frontier in the eagerness to express love for books, in order to promote reading, without falling into the trap of becoming a crude propagandist or an obnoxious show-off.