Dolores Redondo, celebrated for the Baztán trilogy and read by millions around the globe, returns this week with a new novel presented by the Juan Mart Foundation Palm. Waiting for the Flood draws inspiration from a notorious killer who shook Scotland in the late sixties, weaving a tale that mixes real crime with imaginative storytelling.
You believe the real Bible John might still be alive and perhaps hiding in Magaluf?
I can’t say for sure, but Magaluf would be a magnet for him when the place was crowded with young visitors.
What drew you to Scotland’s most famous unsolved killer?
The fact that he was never captured stands out. It’s remarkable how the cases persisted in the public mind after a massive operation and a string of precise crimes. Theories have continued to expand, fueling interest. Scotland has hosted many books about him, podcasts have explored the case, and the BBC released a documentary recently, keeping the conversation alive.
It isn’t the first time you’ve drawn on a real criminal. Do you have limits to the ideas you explore with these characters?
It’s not about imagination alone but about how literature is crafted. While writing the novel, portraits and photos of the killer’s victims hung in the author’s workspace, serving as a sober reminder of those lives. Out of respect, the early sections of the book recount the cases as reported, without embellishment, to avoid intruding on the families. Yet when the murderer is imagined entering Bilbao, the victims become fictional, allowing room for invention.
What about your killer exactly?
The events of the late sixties are real, but the rest blends theory with fantasy. The initial step involved consulting an expert to profile the behavior of the figure known as John Biblia, something not done in those years.
Were you able to recreate his childhood, at least in part?
Yes, to a degree, grounded in police data and plausible speculation. The narrative suggests a life shaped by pain, with the killer likely a victim in his own youth. This premise informs the disturbing aspects of the crimes while the book makes clear it is fiction from a certain point onward.
At the end the book hints that this is not the conclusion. Inspector Noah Scott Sherrington and the officer Amaia Salazar appear in a setup that points beyond a single story.
These are more about deductive reasoning than mere guesswork. The author sees parallels to cerebral processes, where careful interpretation of visible details leads to conclusions that feel almost magical until explained. Intuition, in this view, rests on accumulated knowledge and human instinct rather than mystery alone.
Some readers suspect forebodings shaped police decisions. Is that a fair read?
In many judicial cases, investigators feel sure of guilt based on instinct alone, yet lack enough evidence to take the matter before a judge. The brain stores signals that may not be immediately usable, yet often those signals prove reliable when evaluated over time.
Could Spanish noir stand shoulder to shoulder with Scandinavian crime fiction?
It already does. The genre thrives in both regions, and the author embraces that cross-border resonance. The work stands as an example of a flourishing, robust tradition.
Why does this wave of noir fiction seem to spread so widely?
Two decades ago, the blend of history, myth, and place drew many readers who don’t typically pick up novels. The fusion proved contagious, inviting new readers to explore this style and then branch out to other authors in the field.
Is noir the right lens to capture the inner storms the author explores?
While others may foreground procedural details, the writer focuses on character emotion. The aim is to convey the inner life of each person, showing how a moment can push them to extremes. The crime is a vehicle, but the real story is about resilience, memory, and the way people cope with upheaval. The heroes are pushed, but they also learn to grow through adversity.
Rain and storms recur, but drought remains a political and social threat. Is that the author’s real adversary?
Everyday dangers are real, yet larger forces—war, economic upheaval, and even artificial intelligence—pose risks. Managing resources like water becomes a long-term, strategic concern that echoes in the narrative and beyond it.
Rafa, a character with cerebral challenges, faces tyranny in a modern setting. Has much changed since the eighties?
There have been improvements. People with cerebral palsy gain access to education and rehabilitation, and families, teachers, and communities are learning to support them more fully. Yet tyranny persists in many forms and must be addressed through empathy and informed care from childhood onward.
Do you agree with the idea that life boils down to love and fear?
Yes, that resonates. Lessons from childhood shape how we love and what we fear. The home environment leaves lasting impressions, sometimes complicating relationships into adulthood. The literature uses these themes to highlight the importance of empathy, especially for young characters and their guardians, ensuring healthier paths forward.
What about the influence of psychosis in creating a character like this?
Analyses link certain behavioral impulses to cultural depictions of psychopathy, reflecting the era’s cinematic influences and the broader cultural imagination.
Is the doctor’s last name a nod to the earlier trilogy that brought the author to prominence?
Readers often mention this as a gentle tribute, and the author appreciates the warm reception on tours. While book clubs have long invited a visit, such appearances continue to be arranged with gratitude for the ongoing support.
Waiting for the Flood marks a departure from Basque myth, yet echoes of myth remain. The narrative sometimes nods to Scottish lore, reminding readers that myths appear wherever humans seek meaning, especially during times of uncertainty. The author notes how myths travel and resurface, offering explanations where logic falters.
What remains of Domingo Villar in the latest work?
The writer’s emotions were stirred by Domingo Villar’s passing while shaping a tale about a character who knew his end was near. The protagonist, devoted to his work, realizes there is more to life than professional pursuit. Yet Domingo left a mark through warmth and companionship, a reminder of love that endures beyond death.