Across Galicia and beyond, a native voice crafts a novel that appears not to be rooted in a true story, yet could shine brilliantly. The plot traces the disappearance of two younger siblings, the enduring search for memories of a third girl who cannot recall the past after 25 years, the unearthing of bones, and a web of intrigue. The book’s celebration in Planet’s Master Literature Evenings on a Friday at 8:30 p.m. hints at a fusion of literature and gastronomy that resonates with readers who relish both art forms and storytelling craft.
You have chosen a poem by Elizabeth Bishop for the title of your novel. There is nothing to lose.
The poem carries a title that embodies the art of losing. It speaks to the slow, early losses we endure from birth onward: the house of origin, childhood, keys, cherished people, and loves believed to endure. Yet it asserts that nothing happens to us; living is precisely about this ongoing process. The novel centers on that truth and explores how one moves forward with a resilient spirit, acknowledging loss while choosing to advance.
Is the novel about the disappearance of two brothers and a broader quest?
Yes, it functions as a quest, though what is sought often shimmers with ambiguity. The narrative unfolds on two timelines: the summer of 1979, when the children vanish, and a jump to 2004, twenty-five years later. A third missing girl surfaces, not remembering, yet attempting to cope with the past. A character travels from Copenhagen, where he works for a literary agency, seemingly leaving the past behind, until a journalist’s call reveals that Mount Thecla, a famed Galician Bronze Age site, has yielded bone remains that appear to be connected. This shock propels a return to the old terrain. One thread follows the journalist who seeks to expose a story that was supposedly settled, grounding the investigative angle in modern demands for accountability. The other thread centers on a memory that refuses to be silenced, a defense and an attack all at once, a risky landscape that invites unearthing hidden truths. The narrative gradually weaves people and conversations into a coherent understanding of what might unfold.
“Memory serves as both defense and spear of attack, always a terrain of risk.”
Is the story based on a true event?
No, the tale is fictional, though places like beaches and rivers, and even a town name, echo real coordinates with a changed name. The geography remains precise enough to locate events, a space where many happenings converge. Personal recollections, especially tales of missing children from older generations, inspired the mood and texture of the narrative.
Why this return to Galicia?
A family trip to the region, tied to a beloved relative’s birthday, sparked a cascade of images. The landscape, its vitality, and the sense of place compelled the author to write. Galicia’s formidable nature provides a backdrop that feels both poetic and urgent, a setting where memory and landscape fuse into story.
Are there parallels with contemporary cases or historical memory?
There are resonances, though the work remains distinct. The memory and the mansion that figures in the story echo themes found in many places where history leaves signs. The Confining Gate of Hell, now a draw for visitors, speaks to how memory and sites of trauma attract attention and interpretation.
What was the purpose of including a choir in the narrative?
Various voices matter; beneath them lies a consensus of silence and hermetic spaces within Galicia and beyond. The past is difficult, scarred, and controversial, demanding careful handling to honor its complexity while inviting readers to listen more deeply.
“Romeo and Juliet would be a soap opera if Shakespeare hadn’t crafted it with masterful precision.”
The novel blends suspense and intrigue. Do these elements always serve literature?
Literature cannot exist without intrigue. Though many might default to a detective frame, any narrative—historical, romantic, or fantastical—depends on a compelling mystery that compels the reader. The author aims for a layered form of suspense that transcends conventional chase scenes, leaning toward a Hitchcockian mood rather than James Bond spectacle. Knowing matters, but not for mere sensation.
Do the themes of today differ from timeless literary concerns?
The core concerns persist: loss, loneliness, fear, enigma, adventure, risk, emotion, love. What changes is how they are treated and presented. The human struggle remains a constant, and the way a narrative is voiced becomes the defining factor. The author emphasizes a storytelling voice that feels intimate and unorthodox for its genre, inviting readers closer to the experience while maintaining a universal resonance.
“Genres are a tradition and an excuse to discuss what truly matters.”
Before publication, multiple productions showed interest in adaptations. How did that evolve?
The project drew interest from several production companies, and the final choice leaned toward the strongest development path. The experience suggested a vivid, screenable potential, though its fate remained tied to how the book would be received. The creator remains hopeful about the book’s trajectory and its visual strength for adaptation.
Is there any fear about the outcome matching expectations?
Fear is not the motivator. The aim is to stay true to the story and let each professional contribute their expertise. The process has been fulfilling, and the project’s progress is welcomed with satisfaction rather than anxiety.