Writer and journalist Manuel Vicente, a renowned figure in the Canary Islands literary scene, participates in the Under the Appearance literary convention this weekend at the Jesús Arencibia cultural space in Tamaraceite, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. He will engage in a conversation with author Luis Landero, moderated by Mara Torres. Other writers such as Ray Loriga, Elvira Sastre, Manuel Vilas and Juan Gómez-Jurado entertained audiences on Saturday.
How would you describe the relationship with the writer Luis Landero, whom you will be speaking with tomorrow under the guidance of the Bajo Mirada de Cycle?
There is a strong and respectful relationship. The writer is admired for his entire body of work. They do not share a direct personal history, but there is a continuous engagement through his literature.
Do you enjoy these meta-literary encounters?
When the setting is beautiful and surrounded by friends and people who are dear, it feels like an exciting journey.
As a craftsman who navigates language and words, what separates, unites or distances the novelist from the journalist?
No clear line exists for this writer. The fear is not of a blank page, but of a written page, since the blank slate can become anything. Literature drives the response to the blank page. The format of a novel differs from an article, but the literary impulse remains the same. The world becomes words, and journalism is a distinct practice for this writer.
Many times, the writer speaks in images rather than through thoughts, searching for words.
Yes, because a synthetic view of life often emerges through imagery and metaphor. Visual expressions can reach deeper into the mind and evoke emotions more directly than analysis.
“It is possible to go deep into the brain through images”
In a previous interview, it was remarked that life unfolds through the early knots of childhood. Is writing a way to decode those knots?
Yes. The brain holds emotions, symbols, beliefs and sensations from childhood. Over time, these early impressions gradually dissolve into understanding. Writing becomes a means to revisit those first experiences and continually ask what we are and why, offering a fresh perspective on the world.
Landero’s recent novel Portrait of a Modern Woman, which honors Concha Piquer, explores the sounds of childhood. How did the process of turning an interview into a novel in the 1980s unfold?
The journalist met a remarkable woman during an interview in 1981, and from that encounter the idea of building a novel around her life emerged. The essential material draws from real events, with atmosphere added. Concha Piquer provided the spark, while the writer framed it in narrative form.
In that novel, the line about suffering and pleasure is cited. How much Piquer and how much the author are present in this reflection?
Art is born from lived experience. The author writes not from mere imagination but from what has been felt, seen and endured. Even when a life is attributed to a character, the writer’s own experiences surface in the writing, shaping the twilight or dawn of a scene.
Since 2004 there has been a column titled Las Olas, beginning with the line: “Just as life is made up of days and hours, the sea is made of waves.” What were the most significant waves of the writer’s life?
The best waves are those that offer a chance to prevail, to navigate toward a calm harbor. A wave can be confrontation or discovery, a shipwreck or a welcoming shore.
“A wave can sink you or lead to a harbor”
In island literature, the sea often appears in the prose, even when distant from the shore.
Growing up by the sea left a lasting imprint. The moment life moved inland to Madrid, the sea remained a literary anchor, a source of material that keeps navigating in the mind.
Can infinity fit into a column just as it can into a novel?
A sentence can be infinite, as can a verse. An article or a novel can endure through time when a thought, feeling or atmosphere lingers and becomes part of the air others breathe. Infinity may reside in a single word.