Antonio Soler, born in Malaga in 1956, wrote I Was a Dog, a book that readers regard with striking intensity. In this interview, the discussion centers on a character associated with evil, whose existence is enveloped in darkness, difficulty, and obsession from the very first pages. This figure pursues a way of looking at others as if they were all enemies, while behaving as if the opinions of his friends, partner, mother, or wife are always correct. Neighbors resemble him in this sense, until violence emerges, blending conflict, malice, and machismo. The author found his own voice on pages entrusted to him years earlier. The manuscript, rescued and reshaped into a stark metaphor spanning 291 pages, stands as contemporary evidence of a work that feels persistently sexist today.
The book embodies a stark simplicity and directness in its prose, a quality that has long been celebrated in great literature for outlining the consequences of human malice and carelessness, whether in war, darkness, force, or religious evil. Outside Ritual, his penultimate novel about a royal priest who uses his pulpit to coerce his parishioners into orgies, is among his most acclaimed works, which also include The Way of the British, Apostles and Assassins, and South.
Cover of Antonio Soler’s book I Was a Dog. / ARCHIVE
What marks Soler’s literary achievement is a remarkable calmness that lends weight to both his speeches and his writing. The interview here is transcribed from a Zoom conversation, with Soler at his home in the upper part of Malaga and the journalist in Madrid during the heat of last September.
This is a novel about evil, isn’t it?
It examines a man who seeks to impose rules by which his environment should be governed. That impulse forms the seed of true evil and explains how figures like Stalin or Hitler aimed to impose order, to govern by their own terms.
So the character despises anyone who is not like him, and he will even loathe those who resemble him.
There is a denial of the other within him. He refuses to accept someone else’s impositions, rejects being merely a lap dog, yet he labels himself a dog. He is in a relationship, but instead of ending it, he tries to mold the person he met, insisting that she does not wish to be his lap dog either.
How did such a novel come into being?
The author recalls finding pages among other books. These were not the final page sources; they were diary entries from someone unknown. A neighbor who shared a passion for books lent these pages, and among them were passages that inspired the novel.
What did those pages contain?
They revealed a striking, unsettling personality. There was no literary pretension, only direct writing. Yet the author felt a strong connection to the strength of a character and an individual, a conviction that persisted over time, suggesting depths worth exploring in fiction.
Today, a character who embodies machismo and arrogance—traits associated with certain political movements—appears to have some resonance beyond the novel. This is not a direct critique of contemporary parties, but it reflects attitudes present in parts of society and in some city councils that influence voting patterns.
The protagonist in the novel hates, feels disgust, and believes himself to be despised.
Yes, because he views himself as a victim. He senses a war against him and interprets almost every gesture or detail as an attack. This is obsession and jealousy, rooted in a deep mistrust of oneself, a trait common in people who live within a small world and perceive social relationships as dangerous. These are the kinds of individuals who later appear in news reports as having committed terrible acts, with neighbors recalling that they seemed normal at a distance. They resemble the lone wolf, the person who might confront others with violence in public spaces.
“This obsession, this jealousy; I think it comes from a great insecurity in oneself, typical of someone who lives in a very small world and also experiences social relationships as a danger.”
At the climax, the tendency toward hatred explodes in a scene where the character violently attacks his girlfriend. It feels like a loss of rational control, and the love he professes seems unreal.
There is debate about whether this stems from a break with reality. The evidence suggests otherwise. The events reflect a specific relationship and real circumstances. In essence, the protagonist is a moral dwarf who aligns with a cruel, solitary figure who fights against the world. The story borrows from others, with a friend who introduces intellectual books, including works by Pío Baroja. The girlfriend and her mother respond with hostility to the world he inhabits and cannot control. As with many sexist characters, control and manipulation are central; the aim is to dominate his small domain.
“A strange virus has stuck in the biological brains of some men who cannot stand the feeling of displacement in this situation that is new to them and implies the advancement of women in society.”
From his balcony, he views the surrounding buildings, including the one where his girlfriend lives, as threats rather than homes for those who live in them. When the author writes about this, is the focus on literature or the life around us?
The author emphasizes life itself as the wellspring of literature. The building embodies his girlfriend, Yolanda; it is not merely concrete or brick. Its light, or lack thereof, is tied to her presence and mood, influencing his own. The connection illustrates how life directly shapes the narrative’s emotional rhythm.
He is a manipulator who inflicts pain yet claims incompetence because he is a coward.
Indeed, he is known for this pattern. There are moments when he admires a friend for his manliness, a reminder of the masculine ideal that persists in some circles. This vulgar machismo was prevalent in the 1980s and, regrettably, remains present today. A strange virus has taken hold in the minds of some men who resist women’s progress and retreat to an old, imagined certainty where human nature remains unchallenged. It is a mindset still evident in society now.