Leticia Martin, an Argentine novelist born in 1975, has just secured her first Lumen Award this year, a prize named for its publishing house. The work pays homage to Vladimir Nabokov and his peculiar sensibilities as reflected in a controversial literary dialogue that borrows from Nabokovian themes without becoming merely erotic. It remains a deeply literary exploration that nudges readers to confront uncomfortable questions about instinct and art alike.
The novel is not a conventional romance. Rather, it grapples with the raw forces that drive human behavior, the same potent currents Nabokov explored through a cast of names rooted in Russian tradition. The text dives into disturbing fictions that persist as literature, challenging readers to distinguish impulse from consequence and to examine the moral weight of desire within a broader cultural frame.
A comparison to Nabokov is apt in that the book probes instinct and guilt through a provocative lens. Vladimir, a central figure, appears alongside a cast that mirrors a world where basic impulses are never just last‑ditch reactions but forces that cut to the core of daily life. Luna Miguel, one of the judge panelists who contributed to the discussion, remarked that the novel demonstrates how basic instincts shape our lives with unsettling immediacy, whether or not the world is ending.
Before traveling to Madrid to present the work, the author spoke about its concerns from her home in Buenos Aires, offering a glimpse into the book’s genesis and its reception among readers and critics alike.
Q. Access Buenos Aires for Ezeiza, this journey can be daunting. The hero enters the city a mere moment after a calamity unfolds, hinting at the fragility of modern life.
R. Arrival in the city can indeed be jolting. The airport sits far from the heart of the action, and the protagonist arrives as the world pauses under a power outage and a rare electrical collapse. Such disruption feels almost native to Buenos Aires, a country still young in its political self‑definition, where the air of instability often lingers in the background.
Question. On the way, the journey brushes up against the local football culture and the city’s captain’s emblematic presence. Messi appears as a signpost of the path to the capital.
R. The encounter marks the route toward the city and signals a sense of hopeful aid. The main character navigates with a North American British accent to preemptively encourage helpful assistance from strangers. The author enjoyed portraying the kindness she observed toward visitors, a thread she hopes to highlight even amid looming catastrophe.
Q. Why was it important for the route to be challenging?
R. The female protagonist fled the United States after being accused in a scandal involving a minor. The author imagined a difficult entry into Argentina, a move that does not require a formal statement about her past in the country she left. The plot threads together a narrative where the idea that loyalty to one’s homeland can be tested becomes a central tension. The author drew on texts like Misfortune by J. M. Coetzee to deepen the portrayal of a wrongfully stigmatized woman who seeks a new beginning, while a massive blackout shadows the arrival in Ezeiza and the looming sense of apocalypse.
The end of the world metaphor resonates with Argentina’s history, where recent events sparked reflections on political power and civic unrest. The novel, crafted years before its release, now echoes a country wrestling with leadership questions and social upheaval, offering readers a fictional lens for examining contemporary reality.
When these looting events were taking place, the author noted that fiction can anticipate fact and that literature often mirrors current events before they crystallize as headlines.
S. Kahraman travels to Buenos Aires with his son Vladimir, navigating a city shaken by looting and street chaos. Two realities unfold side by side, inviting readers to question the sources of the fiction that creates such outcomes.
A. The author recalls a deeply personal story about a minor who endured abuse. This memory compelled her to write, believing that the act of sitting at a desk and turning life into prose can assert truth, even when the material is fiction. The blackout of 2018 in Argentina, which spread to neighboring countries, further sharpened the sense that money, safety, and trust are intimately linked. The writer credits mentors who taught that a single story can hold multiple truths, urging the integration of real events into the imagined framework of the novel.
Question. The female figure who seeks refuge amid disaster is portrayed with a complex dynamic involving a male character and a son named Vladimir, a deliberate homage to Nabokov. The book frames Lolita through a different register, positioning the title as a poetic nod rather than a literal replication of the original work.
R. Nabokov’s influence remains clear as the author explains that the names and the narrative choices reflect a wish to honor the author while acknowledging the historical moment surrounding geopolitical tensions. The novel ends with a hopeful gesture toward literary continuity, with Vladimir Nabokov acknowledged on the cover as a quiet, lasting tribute.
Q. What are the author’s thoughts on Nabokov and the controversial themes in the world today?
R. Nabokov’s artistry is seen as a patient invitation to understand a passion that cannot be suppressed. The work invites readers to explore responsibility, the nature of abuse, and the question of who bears blame. It suggests that the act of examining a crime can hold more weight than rooting for any single outcome, inviting ongoing reflection about gender, power, and accountability.
Question. In a wartime atmosphere that feels like a War of the Worlds, the narrative confronts fear and the possibility of violence. Was there trepidation in tackling such topics?
R. The author feared the external world more than the three figures within the home. The global crisis, amplified by a pandemic, intensified the sense of catastrophe in the novel. The fear of predatory threats and the fragility of safety colored every scene, but she chose to press forward, determined to tell the story with honesty and restraint.