A moment in the past shaped a stubborn belief for Carlos Robles Lucena, born in Terrassa in 1977: literature risked becoming an outdated art for most people. He sensed that literary fiction was losing ground in both public conversations and private musings, a drift that concerned him deeply.
Yet that same sense carried a counterweight. He felt that people still craved literature; they simply lacked the time or the concentration to savor it. The idea grew: what if a character tried to shift the tide by creating a theme park devoted to universal literature? The concept felt Quixotic, and it sparked the name Cerbantes Park, a nod that threaded history, humor, and a bold experiment into one project.
In the end, the author hoped the book would offer readers reflection, memorable characters, moments of delight, and a few vivid scenes that linger. The biggest challenges were structural: how to make the plot unfold smoothly, where to trim, and how to balance ambition with clarity. The author often felt unfinished with his drafts, yet Cerbantes Park stood out because of the sheer joy found in drafting passages about a literary park that could change the way people engage with books.
The idea years later took root after an experience at an amusement venue that revealed something surprising: audiences would queue for hours just to squeeze into a single moment of fun. This insight flashed while the author worked as a teacher and community manager in a publishing environment that demanded dramatic portrayals of figures like Shakespeare and Cervantes. The tension between spectacle and culture became a living backdrop, highlighting the risk that culture could appear as mere sign and design in a fast paced era.
The park, as imagined, would invert that trend. It would replace flashy stunts with moments of quiet, meaningful engagement. It would favor thoughtful reading amid the bustle of a world that often celebrates quick flashes over sustained attention. At the center stands the Commissioner, a figure who embodies a blend of naïveté and skepticism as he pursues a dream that might seem impossible: a theme park built around literature. The scope is grand, a Quixote-like challenge set in a country where Don Quixote is a familiar symbol yet not always a lived experience for readers.
Who would have thought that dedicating a playground to such seriousness could meet resistance and practical hurdles? The journey would include social misunderstandings, unexpected setbacks in development, and emotional ups and downs. It promises to be a bold ride, a literary Ferris wheel that is accessible, entertaining, and thought-provoking. Along the way, readers can take a rail ride that invites curiosity and wonder rather than mere spectacle. The project invites everyone to consider why reading matters and how a space dedicated to books might shape everyday life.
Ultimately, Cerbantes Park is about the tension between brevity and depth, between the immediacy of a moment and the lasting impact of a well-told story. It asks whether a society can nurture the quiet power of reading when the public culture often favors rapid experiences. The author crafts this vision as a studio of ideas where imagination and critique meet, big questions meet practicalities, and literature finds a public not by shouting but by inviting people to linger and think. In this sense, the park stands as a provocative invitation to reimagine how literature can live in urban spaces, schools, and daily life, turning a grand dream into a shared adventure for readers everywhere.