About cronopios

The term "cronopio" was invented by the great Argentinean writer Julio Cortazar, and immortalized in his book Historias de cronopios y de famas and other texts. Notice that this book was published in 1964, thus making the concept of "cronopio" roughly contemporary to (although independent of) concepts like "nerd" and "geek". Let's see some characteristic traits of the species.

The Cortazarian cronopio, when confronted with a choice between spending his very last money in a meal and buying a much-sought-after rare jazz vinyl, would undoubtedly choose the second option.

When organizing his personal library, the cronopio starts arranging the books in the hope of following some clear and unambiguous criteria, but ends making so much exceptions to the rules, and imposing so many changes to the ordering -- changes that reflect his own complicated mental cartography -- that eventually ends in despair, stuffing the volumes in the shelves in whatever manner he can.

The cronopio always goes to the bookstore saying "I will stay there for half an hour at most and that's it", but ends staying four hours until the clerk comes politely saying that they need to close. On arriving at home, he is often ashamed about spending much more money than he could.

Cronopios abhor public libraries that don't give the user free access to the bookshelves. Usually they get the Dewey number of the book needed and plan to go straight after it, but find so many interesting volumes in other shelves that end picking a completely different heap of books.

Cronopios are easily identifiable at concerts of baroque music because they are the only ones lightly tapping their hands and feet at the rythm of Bach's "Art of fugue" or Byrd's "Five-part mass", as if they were at a jazz concert.

Speaking of jazz concerts, when attending to these, then, cronopios simply can't help snapping fingers, and just can't wait for the bass solo, which they duly greet with enthusiastic applause and bravos.

Cronopios don't like to sit anywhere but in the first row at the movie theater. They are of the opinion that anyone who dares to whisper to his/her nighbor during the exhibition of Kieslowski's La double vie de Veronique should be in jail.

At fast-foods, cronopios frequently order a multi-floor sandwich with every conceivable weird ingedient put in it, but at the same time request a diet soft drink.

Cronopios always start their reading of the newspaper with the comics page. Politics pages come only at the end, if ever. Economics and finance pages are solemnly ignored.

At the homes of the cronopios there are always doors banging.

Noteworthy cronopios include:


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