Sometimes columns or reviews capture joy—the release of a new book deserves celebration—yet at times grief moves a writer to address loss. In this text, the aim is not to mourn the sudden departure of a friend but to offer a review, a gentle wake-up call to remember Candaya’s place in recent literary history. Paco Robles stands out here as a steady pillar for many writers, readers, and critics who followed him over the years.
The memory of the first Candaya publication is vivid. A writer seeking a distinct voice, a mark that would define their craft, found themselves drawn to a publisher that seemed to promise academic daring and narrative bravura. A book that altered perception appeared—Nocilla Dream by Agustín Fernández Mallo, with a foreword by Juan Bonilla. Initial hesitation gave way to discovery: the work supported experimentation even when the packaging felt imperfect. The discovery did not end there; the partnership between writer and editor grew into something recognizable. Candaya became, in that moment, a fantastical kingdom where Clavileño, Don Quixote, and Sancho ride together to challenge the giant Malambruno. The energy was radiant and playfully impossible, almost magical in its ambition.
The author recalls meeting Olga and Paco in a bookstore’s warm, crowded space, a moment that crystallized the collaboration and care behind every edition. Olga carried an unstoppable energy, Paco a teacher’s patience and discernment. The encounter revealed a shared craft: editors who shape and polish, choosing each detail with intention. A memorable afternoon included an almond variety called catania paired with cava, a gesture of generosity that lingered long after the moment. When the presenter asked for a reference, a family connection ensured the gift reached its recipient, reinforcing the sense that publishing is a communal act of kindness as much as a professional one. The author remembers the box that arrived later, a tangible proof of such generosity, and the emotional response remains private but deeply felt.
Paco Robles’ passing left a tangible void. Editors like Olga from Ediciones del Viento and colleagues such as Eduardo Riestra or Max Lacruz, who keeps the flame alive at Funambulista, helped restore faith in literature by reminding the world that publishing is a collaborative art. The truth is simple: talent is not a solitary spark but the visible outcome of editors who nurture writers, advocate for visibility, and provide unwavering support. It is rare to recognize the editor’s work in full until that partner is no longer present, and the loss is felt across the entire literary ecosystem. Like a Quixote who stays faithful to the quest, the memory of Paco’s path to Spanish literature remains a guiding force for many who discovered important voices through Candaya. A conversation left unfinished becomes a quiet vow to express gratitude for the paths opened and the dreams realized. Candaya and Paco are inseparable, intertwined in a shared history of discovery and belief. The reminder is simple: thanks for the journey, for the opportunities given, for the collaborations that turned visions into shared realities. This piece honors that partnership and invites readers to remember the enduring impact of the work behind every book. [citation attribution: Candaya and the editor-publisher ecosystem qualitative memory]”