Vagalum, Julio Llamazares’ final novel, follows a lifelong thread of loneliness mapped through urban nights and the journalist’s search for solace in solitude. The writer, who also reports by day, never grants more than one piece to the press, keeping a private shadow over his work.
In Yellow Rain, the setting is a deserted town where the city’s night becomes a vast void. The narrator, who adopts the name Vagalume, writes anonymously until his family uncovers the truth amidst tangled mystery and lies upon his death. The friend who reads Vagalume’s manuscript becomes the book’s central figure; the line between fiction and reality blurs as the narrator deciphers or preserves what was written. From the pages, a maxim appears: Between grief and nothingness, one chooses grief, and a note claims that with age we are all survivors.
Building on the poetic voice found in the author’s other works—Yellow Rain, Silent Movie Scenes, and Different Perspectives on Water as well as the verse collections Slowness of the Ox and Memory of the Snow—the novel dives into writing, loneliness, and emptiness. Llamazares examines memory and desolation through the lens of the writer who created these books, along with a family that cannot fully explain how a life of such prolific fiction emerged from a mind that hid its fiction within Vagalume’s night.
Mystery manifests as a mode of poetry, and here, prose becomes a vehicle for the same contemplative approach to water, oblivion, and the unknown. The once-hidden novelist reemerges to illuminate how literature can articulate pain born from emptiness or death.
It feels as if the writer returns to prose, revealing a world where vagalums—loners who light themselves from within—hide in the shadows of night to avoid the wolves that threaten them.
The conversation unfolds in a Madrid home, set far from the pages and scenes, yet where the consequences of the secret city that shaped the writer linger in both prose and poetry.
What does the word vagalume mean to you, and how do you live with yourself?
It has become part of my life. There is a moment of inquiry. A novel does not exist until the title appears. The title embodies the spirit of the work. The title changed three times before its meaning settled. Vagalume is now found in many places—the other day a restaurant on Ponzano street bore the name. A friend reported a bar in Galicia carried the same name. Someone sent a poem by Manuel Rivas with that title. Vagalume is already a fragment of me.
Vagalume and loneliness?
Vagalume is a light in the night, a key to the mystery. A journalist recently called to discuss the book and suggested it is about the need to write and the love of life. Yes, there is that. Writing happens at night, when lights flicker on and life continues while others sleep. Fiction becomes more important than reality at times, and that tension lies at the core of the novel.
People’s secret lives have always intrigued me
Two kinds of writers, in a way, share a map or a compass. I am a compass writer, never with a fixed map. The secret lives of people fascinate me. On the subway you glance at a stranger and wonder about their hidden life. Writers often hide behind a mask, and this collection gathers such stories. There is the tale of a publisher who discovered manuscripts after his parents died, and others who wrote to make a living. These are the kinds of hidden writers who do not announce themselves. It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?
How does journalism mingle with literature in this novel? Is there a trace of you in it?
Yes. Every character can be seen as a facet of the author. The novel is autobiographical not because it recounts personal deeds but because it reflects a life devoted to storytelling. All the characters feel like part of the author’s own world. All of them belong to him in spirit.
Is this book also an urban commentary like Yellow Rain?
Perhaps it is. It reads as an urban meditation on a solitary life. As Fernando Pessoa suggested, writing is a path to solitude. The book examines stepping away from noise to contemplate life and the lives of others. Life unfolds like a novel with an ending known in advance, offering two choices: abandon life or live with the deepest possible enthusiasm.
Did you ever think about that dilemma yourself?
No. I love living and embracing life.
Is that why the protagonist leaves his town?
Yes. There was a moment when a shift was needed. If not, a different fate might have awaited me. Centralism in Spain has always pressed on small towns, and even with a strong inner life, the wider world can overwhelm you.
It seems to echo Yellow Rain and Comala from Rulfo.
Yes, the thread remains constant. Provincial towns shape both life and literature: they can be nurturing, yet suffocating under social control. Reality can become a story, and once told, it can feel unreal.
There is a poetic boost for journalism here.
Journalism is a form of literature. A story should carry the same vitality as a novel. Journalism is a current, living novel; literature is a timeless one. The tool is language, the medium that carries truth and voice.
Some characters describe journalists as mere computer mice. Is that true today?
Journalism has evolved with society. Technology and virtual platforms rise, but the core task remains. Newsrooms are full of energy, while the world beyond them keeps producing, often in ways not captured by screens alone.
Writers turn life into a mystery to keep living.
The novel follows a writer who examines the life of another writer who wrote about his own father, who also wrote. The work is a meditation on the lifelong passion for storytelling. At heart, Vagalume is a book about the mystery of writing and how writers sometimes become fireflies in the night.
How much of the writing is self-directed?
During the writing, the feeling was that the author was writing to himself as much as for anyone else. The characters spoke to him, and he listened in return.
What role does literature play in publishing today?
One should not prescribe quality. Writers act like radio stations, broadcasting on a unique frequency. Those who tune into FM readers will respond to that channel; others to their own frequencies. The aim is to pursue literary validation, not let commercial trends dictate taste.