Far From Louisiana: A sprawling historical saga from the Spanish era on the Mississippi
Between 1763 and the fall of 1803, 40 years of power shifts, conflicts, and cultural clashes unfold across the Mississippi territory. The narrative, drawn from extensive archival work, illuminates a little-known slice of Spanish history and how it shaped relations among tribes and settlers. The work gained attention after a thorough documentation process and earned a prominent literary prize last October. It was presented at the Maestral Literary Evenings, where the author joined a Friday event in 2017, and the atmosphere felt charged with passion and discovery.
The author completed the manuscript in early 2022 and received the Planeta Prize in October. Though the prize was awarded only a few months ago, the period since has been intensely evolving.
On one side lies the labor of research and promotion, which demanded a level of dedication rarely seen in other novels. On the other side, there is a deeply personal sense of accomplishment and gratitude. The author still marvels at the moment of recognition. The reception from readers and critics alike has affirmed the literary intent and the substantial effort invested, which brings immense satisfaction.
Influences from Arturo Pérez Reverte and Leandro Pérez nudged the author to write a story for the book in 2018, exploring Spain’s role during the American independence era and the broader frontier far from Louisiana.
That narrative prompt is acknowledged with gratitude. The author studied in the United States, learning English philology and engaging with Mark Twain’s literature. When the prompt arrived, the aim was to reach the heart of the United States. The actual journey revealed a complex world where diverse social groups lived side by side across the forty-year Spanish presence in Mississippi. The Creoles, the governors, and the French families offered a tapestry of tensions, alliances, and shifting loyalties that were previously underappreciated.
The novel is described as romantic, historical, and adventurous, tackling power struggles, machismo, racism, and class differences. The core themes remain consistent throughout the narrative.
Past eras often feel harsher due to stark living conditions, yet the story emphasizes progress and the continuous drive to improve. The author highlights courageous women whose stories readers might not expect, especially within the context of slavery. The depiction of enslaved people and their resilience under brutal conditions shows both horror and a longing for freedom. Some slaves chose a perilous freedom near the swamps, finding a place that, while dangerous, offered a sense of autonomy.
The portrayal also addresses the oppression of locals, a reality that persists into the twenty-first century. It is a serious issue that often passes unnoticed in popular histories.
The book reframes the period as a long, fragile negotiation rather than a clear conquest. The author delves into the varied experiences on both sides of the river, showing how social groups navigated violence, treaties, and everyday life. The enduring tragedy lies in the loss of land and autonomy as North American expansion advanced.
The 700 pages of Far From Louisiana seem substantial, but they cover forty years of Spanish presence, a breadth that the author argues needed full treatment to honor the complexity of the era.
Depth mattered. While the story leans into romance, it also chronicles the emotional and physical journeys of its characters with care. In drafting, the author anticipated a longer manuscript but chose to condense battles and provide a cohesive narrative arc that still honors the historical texture.
All impossible love stories lead to Shakespeare
Why is this historical phase so little known, and why has it been overlooked?
Several factors contribute. The timeline is tight for inclusion in study plans. Spain’s involvement was indirect rather than overt, tucked within broader geopolitical moves. The era also overlapped with other upheavals, including wars in Europe, making losses less visible to the public eye. The momentum of the moment did not favor recounting every consequence of those years.
The documentation process had to be intense.
It resembled a substantial scholarly project. The author kept a huge repository of notes and drafts, organizing a complex web of events, people, and places to ensure accuracy and narrative coherence.
Suzette Girard and Ishcate, an Indigenous woman from the Kaskaskia, fight for an impossible love. They resemble a Louisiana Romeo and Juliet.
The author notes that many impossible love stories echo Shakespeare, especially in Upper Louisiana where a Frenchman and a Native American would naturally cross paths. The legend of such a romance emerges as a focal point that anchors the narrative in myth as well as history.
It could be seen as a film as well as a book
The epilogue opens with an Indian proverb: It takes a thousand voices to tell a single story. Is this reflective of the novel?
Yes. The work leans on a rich archive and storytelling that invites readers to hear multiple perspectives. The author, not a historian, crafts a vivid, cinematic reading of the era and has begun to integrate new bibliographic references as interest grows.
Would Far From Louisiana make a great film, like Palm Trees in the Snow?
The author loves cinema and believes that reading a novel is like envisioning its own film. If a screen adaptation materialized, a production could capture the emotional resonance and sweeping landscapes with ease. Whether on screen or page, the story stands on its own as a compelling journey.
A forthcoming appearance at the Maestral Literary Evenings will feature a special menu and a wine inspired by the tale.
The author recalls the literary evenings as a valuable experience. The culinary tribute impressed attendees, and the wine, named Albort, added a memorable touch. The evening promised a celebration of creativity and storytelling that many readers will relish.