Almost all the questions that arise in the poetry of Francisco Alba are related to the increasingly apparent mediocrity of the world around us. The protagonist could spend entire days watching the History Channel (and the Philosophy Channel, if it existed), drinking gin and tonics one after the next and laughing at the species’ absurd attempts at creating meaning. Lucid and melancholic, intelligent and morbid, Alba possesses one of Spain’s most singular poetic voices of the contemporary period—he might well be the true devil’s advocate.