Fernando Aramburu: “I know I drive a lot of people crazy and they call me tocapelota. I don’t care”

The reader who comes to work with ‘Patria’ may feel quite alien in the face of such a funny novel.

I have used this literary register on other occasions, but never to such a sensitive social group. I found the formula and interpreted it to a terror victim to give me his opinion. The idea was to leave the victims out of the narrative and focus on a satire against the criminals, or rather potential criminals. There I no longer had any moral restraints because the humor was in no way directed at people in pain, and that freed my hands.

So is humor the limit in the care of the victim?

Sure, but not just in literature. This limit must be respected in life as well. We should not laugh at the troubles of people who are a little sad, a little bit discriminated. Witty criticism should be directed at anyone who holds power or is evil. Thus satire becomes something laudable and balsamic because it goes against seriousness, rigid forms, and bad intentions.

The story of ‘Hijos de la fábula’ is almost an adventure of Mortadelo and Filemón, with a lot of white humor.

I leave it there to those who want to interpret it. Sometimes I felt like I was being a little cruel to my characters. I tried really hard to make sure they weren’t just trainee terrorists, especially IQs. Per also wanted the human condition and daily conditions to be reflected. They’re fanatics but you get them out of there and they turn out to be ‘good’. This happened during the years of armed struggle. They would arrest someone and the neighbors would say, “but it was so good…” Yes, of course he was, but he was walking around with a gun and killing others too.

Etarras…

They’re not even ETA members, they want to be, but they can’t. But the metal mechanism of armed struggle is working for them at full speed.

…they are contradictory characters. But he manages to make the reader see them so pathetic that he even begins to identify with them.

I like this exercise. And I do that in all my novels. As a writer, I know very well what I am giving the reader, the expectations I have created, and then maybe I won’t be able to meet them. The novel is conducive to interfering with the consciences of others.

When he talks about a fable, he’s talking about a made-up story that connects ideology to armed struggle. Has this ‘tale’ been diluted in recent years?

The tale survives today in nationalism and is hegemonic in parts of the Basque Country. To detect this, all you have to do is go there and see the public or the election results. What has changed is the terror strategy they are trying to capture that tale.

Enthusiastic ETA members are children of a fairy tale, but so are the writers.

We are all children of a fairy tale. It is impossible to be a smart person and not be influenced by fairy tales. In fact, the first thing we get is fairy tales, children’s tales, stories that tell us what love or jealousy or evil is. The problem, which is a very serious one, is that our tales do not pass through a moral filter. I don’t have the authority to eliminate others to make my story happen. This is very dangerous. What democracy is good at is that it is a fable made up of an electoral program with promises and the possible demonstration that the opponent is very bad.

12 years after the ceasefire, are such ledgers still necessary, raising ETA’s death certificate?

That’s what I did in ‘Patria’ and this book I designed as a defense against terrorism, because those heroes are ridiculous and ridiculous.

Have you tried to humiliate ETA members?

If I managed to put my finger on the wound that hurt them the most, that doesn’t sound bad to me, the truth is. I’d be surprised if the parodies applauded me, that’s not going to happen. But come on, I find myself once again on a mission to smear the evils of ETA on white. I am not alone I think of Raúl Guerra Garrido who was attacked.

Her heroes have serious problems with women. One of them says that ETA disintegrated as women entered leadership positions.

This character is repressed and afraid of women. He is the son of an oppressive mother. This inspired me from the Gastronomy Societies. I remember in the ’70s there was a vote on whether or not women were allowed in on Saturdays, and the vote was overwhelmingly no. The thesis was that “women make trouble” (laughs) that societies are a sanctuary against spouses who don’t let themselves get drunk in peace. These ideas have always been in the atmosphere of Basque society and have remained with me. This book is part of a series called ‘The Basque People’ and is promoted as such. I try to reflect the human landscape as I know it. There were such people, but that doesn’t mean I represent them.

The strong and castrating mother is a stereotype that doesn’t quite fit the times we live in.

However, like all clichés, there is probably some truth to it.

In this book, we come across a cemetery again.

If someone doesn’t appear, it’s not my book.

Why this fixation?

Like the brief appearances Hitchcock makes in his movies, it’s a trademark. I think it comes from the first time I hit someone with my mom. I was about seven years old and we went to visit my grandmother’s grave, and the sight of the stone with the name aroused my awareness that life was coming to an end.

Does living in Germany all these years give you the necessary distance from your land?

Yes definitely. It is possible that distance gives me more freedom. If I go out on the street, if they threaten, scold or attack me, it is more difficult for him to perceive himself as free.

Did you feel attacked?

I felt this every time someone on behalf of some convictions. But personally I don’t want to talk about it. I am more anti-nationalist in interviews than I show in my novels. So I understand they call me tocapelotas.

Do you enjoy being a ball collector?

I know I upset a lot of people. What are you going to do! I do not care. If I was afraid while writing, I would devote myself to something else, mining or chess, which they say is exciting.