One year, 1720, features in the work of writer and publisher Risto Mejide, a Barcelona native born in 1974, known for hosting programs like Travel with Chester and Everything Is a Lie. This year appears almost as if it were lifted from the author’s own biography, hinting at a deliberate distance between the writer and the subject. The narrative centers on Johann Sebastian Bach, inviting readers to consider a version of the composer’s life that diverges from the familiar portrait. The novel fills a gap by imagining the love story of a young, impassioned Bach, challenging the solemn image that history often preserves. At the same time, two other strands connect to Bach: a mysterious discovery near his grave at the end of the 19th century and the 1950s recording of the Goldberg Variations by Glenn Gould. The story is seasoned with a broad cast of historical characters and events, ranging from Bach himself who first piqued Mejide’s interest when she began piano lessons at fourteen, to a historical moment marked by a sweeping anti-communist campaign.
When did Bach’s biography interest you enough to write a novel about him?
The novel begins from a lack. Mejide sought a fictional portrait of Bach but found few of them. There are many biographies about him in all styles, yet, intriguingly, little fiction about Bach compared with the abundance of work on Beethoven and Mozart. More than twenty biographies exist, and Mejide notes that none of them answered a crucial moment she wanted to explore. After Bach returns from a journey with Prince Leopold, he learns that his wife Maria Barbara Bach has died unexpectedly, leaving him a widower with four children. He has not even had a chance to bid farewell. He sinks into grief, and the chaconne, among his most famous and technically demanding compositions for violin, stands as a testament to that sorrow. Bach marries Anna Magdalena, with whom he has thirteen children, in 1720 and 1721. What happened in that year remains unaddressed by the biographies, and Mejide believes historical fiction is the ideal way to bridge that gap.
Could the lack of fiction about Bach be due to the image we have of him as a serious, almost unsympathetic man?
The image handed down to us is a Haussmannian portrait of Bach at sixty, shown with a double chin and a stern expression. Yet in that period he was only thirty-five, falling in love with Anna Magdalena and revealing a passionate, even unruly side. He enjoyed lively moments with friends, frequently visiting cafes and the city’s rougher quarters. He was known to engage in spirited debates, a guitarist in the family tradition, and a person capable of both tenderness and mischief. In this sense, his life reads like a novel waiting to be written.
Bach faced prejudice because of the age gap with Anna Magdalena. Do these prejudices persist?
Generally, any couple with a significant age difference has faced scrutiny. Documents and letters show Anna Magdalena Bach as an independent, modern woman, ahead of her time. Her father shaped her to never depend on a man, and when she met Bach at nineteen she emerged as a sought-after soprano who commanded fair regard across Europe. She pursued opportunities, negotiated her own terms, and earned a respected salary, paralleling the era’s evolving view of female autonomy.
You have also faced criticism for the age difference between you and your partners. Did that influence your decision to tell this story?
Mejide acknowledges the personal resonance but emphasizes that the book is not about her life. If she wanted to reveal what happened in her own relationships, she would write a memoir. This is a story about perhaps the greatest musician of all time and about Anna Magdalena; it is a love story that encounters universal obstacles, the kind that populate great literature.
What is it like to enter the mind of a genius?
The author hopes to offer insight without pretending to fully inhabit Bach’s thoughts. It is possible to understand many aspects of his life, yet the difference between a genius and an ordinary person remains vast. While readers seek fragments of his inner world, Mejide argues that Bach’s work is deeply illuminated, even if his private self remains partly unknowable. The contrast between his prolific output and his elusive private life makes him a perpetual source of fascination.
Talent is a gift, but is there something genetic about it? Bach’s family tree is filled with musicians, some of them distinguished.
At one point, many generations in the family were musicians. The lineage was thick with musical presence, though the great-great-grandfather was a baker who played the guitar in a certain way that hints at an inherited sensibility. What persists is a prolific legacy—dozens of cantatas, a standard of output that reflects a life dedicated to music. Bach composed a cantata almost weekly during his Leipzig years, a pace that underscores the stamina and discipline of a working musician.
If Bach could live in Chester, what would you want him to say about the novel?
He would likely not be able to draw direct lessons from his life. Mejide imagines that what matters is what captivates readers, not a purely academic reconstruction. The goal is for the reader to enjoy the journey and to gain a deeper appreciation of Bach’s life and music. The author hopes readers will be inspired to listen to Bach, to let the music accompany them. Whether or not they buy the book, listening to Bach can enrich a person’s life.
The main plot centers on Bach and Anna Magdalena’s love story, but the novel also threads in two other stories that acquire their own momentum: the exhumation of Bach’s bones during a 1894 burial and Glenn Gould’s recording of the Goldberg Variations in 1955. These strands matter to the novel’s broader message and to how audiences encounter Bach across time.
These two threads emerged during Mejide’s research. The restoration of Bach’s remains raised questions about what the skeletons might reveal about the man, while Gould’s story offers a juxtaposition of eccentric genius and modern performance. Gould’s recording of the Goldberg Variations became iconic, and the legend that Bach composed the work for Count Keyserlingk to help him sleep is part of the lore, whether fully true or not. Gould faced initial skepticism about the project, and his work is celebrated as a landmark in classical music. This thread champions diversity and the idea that talent belongs to individuals who refuse to be defined by others. Through Bach, Anna Magdalena, and Gould, Mejide conveys a shared message: live your life without harming others.