Perhaps the most common mistake in literary criticism is to take historical importance as a qualitative criterion for an author. Nothing could be further from the truth. The guy who publishes a sonnet, if he gets shot, is already the murdered poet. And that could be followed by pages and pages that give a misleading impression of greatness. Meanwhile, there’s the other, obscure, with no contacts, about whom little is known, whose biography may not be brilliant, nor his work new, unexplored by critics, without influence, but who made the best of his vocation a reality, with all his spirit and full sincerity.