Lucia Pietrelli, an acclaimed Italian writer who crafts in Catalan, unveils a new novel called Deimos. Set on a mythic island where death does not exist, the story probes the nature of life, memory, and humanity’s longing for immortality. The author was scheduled to share the latest work at a Palma bookstore event, but the emphasis remains on the ideas and questions the narrative raises rather than any single moment of a launch.
-The chase of eternity has always hovered as a wish. In Deimos it becomes both possession and punishment. Is dying truly resting?
-Fear powers much of life, and death looms largest. On a realm where death vanishes, a new fear takes root: the endless future. The writer sought to explore this tension and tie it to longing. People yearn for many things, but once they obtain them, life may dim in unexpected ways. The wish not to die might persist, yet if fulfilled, life can appear to aim toward an ending that has already been achieved.
-Why is an ending necessary?
-Out of habit. Narratives tend to begin, twist, and end. The ending need not be joyful, as in fairy tales, but its very word suggests a quiet closure. Our lives imitate this storytelling rhythm, teaching us to expect an arc. Many endings are fractured, and something stops a life before the circle closes. The need for an ending is a construct, though knowing there is one helps bear what happens.
“Today there is more emphasis on judging than on understanding because it is faster, and we feel we have no time.”
-Laia, the central figure, seeks to understand why her mother left. Should someone always search for answers?
-No. The narrative privileges questions over definitive answers, because even when they are found, they are likely to shift with time. Absolute conclusions are not the aim; the goal lies in the act of questioning, living the process to give meaning to thoughts and actions.
-In The Flower there are words but not the eye to study inward. Should readers try to do that more often?
-The work imagines a utopia, yet one that could be real. Mythic elements surface, including the figure of ancient singers and the idea of a language as a construct that helps us build what we cannot see. Language gains value when terms carry broader meanings and are chosen with care.
-Laia does not like Aloma, her friend, judging instead of looking. This is a familiar dynamic in many lives.
-Today judgment is faster, and many feel they lack time to reflect and understand why things are the way they are. Appearances often hold us in place because time seems to run out.
-“The chosen language, Catalan in my case, is the beloved.” It becomes a lament that language has turned into a political tool.
-The stone remains a potent presence in the author’s work. Is there a common symbol?
-Yes. Stone and forest recur as symbolic spaces or materials that obsess the writer. Stone stands for what outlives us and continues telling stories. The focus is on time and memory, with a fascination for what a stone could hold in memory. It is the closest thing to eternity in the human world.
-She writes about things she has not lived, a departure from autofiction. Could she ever imagine writing from lived experience?
-It is not a rejection of autofiction; future choices remain open. For now, she is drawn to constructing invented lives. When one has lived something, re-creating it on the page might feel hollow. Inventing a story allows deep immersion, and every writer reasons differently about why they write. A deliberate distance between the book and the author often fuels creativity.
-She describes language as a second heart and writes in a language that is not the mother tongue. Is this because it already feels like belonging?
-Yes. Dreaming in Catalan marked a turning point. The mother tongue resembles a mother one did not choose but loves, while the chosen language is the beloved partner. From the start, the sound captivated the writer and steadily drew her into learning it.
-How does she view Catalan today?
-It is unfortunate that it has become a political instrument, because language is the vessel of a people, a natural and invaluable treasure that should not be abandoned.
-Working in a bookstore offers a close view of the sector. What is the assessment?
-The surge of new titles signals a healthy cultural moment, even though some books disappear from public view too quickly. Literature deserves longer life than the occasional shelves allow.
Notes: The interview emphasizes that curiosity and inquiry drive writing, rather than a hunt for ready-made answers. The author’s reflections on mortality, memory, and language reveal a writer who treats storytelling as a living practice. The symbolism of stone and forest threads through the work, inviting readers to contemplate what endures and what is remembered long after the last page is turned. [Source: interview with the writer; attribution provided for context.]