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Antonio Paniagua
Madrid
Lunes, 27 de enero 2025, 00:16
Pilar Adón has once again penned a disturbing work. The author, who was awarded the National Narrative Prize two years ago, has crafted eighteen stories featuring seemingly calm girls who, internally, harbour a volcano. In 'The Wraths' (Galaxia Gutenberg), the writer suggests that the confinement often experienced by the protagonists actually conceals a quest for freedom. Revenge, fear, and betrayal are emotions that permeate these tales, where Adón calls upon the reader's insight to resolve ellipses and fill in gaps. She leaves it to critics to define her literature, which some experts have labelled as gothic. "You sit down, write, and the labels come later," she says.
–What is the common thread running through these stories?
–They share a common vocation both thematically and stylistically. They all have almost the same structure, and in almost all, there is a quote related to biblical literature. The characters are often very young girls or women who, in some way, have felt betrayed, disappointed, or abandoned, and they act accordingly. When I handed the book to the publisher, I couldn't stop thinking about betrayal, abandonment, revenge, I'm not quite sure why.
–Does the abundance of biblical quotes stem from the fact that the God of the Bible is vengeful and wrathful?
–The God of the Catholic Bible retained that misery which, initially, belongs to humans: wrath. Other classical gods retained lust, gluttony, ambition, or envy. The fact that one of the stories speaks of Cain and Abel, which I transform into two sisters, and that Cain was the first being to experience wrath, created an incredible circle. Moreover, since my father's death, I have formed a kind of bond with nature, as for me, he represented nature. In a literary sense, it was as if I had fused with it.
–Do you identify as a writer who cultivates the gothic, the horror?
–I am unable to appreciate it myself. Academics, scholars, and critics will come to do so. Some already have, and I accept it, I have no problem with the labels they might attach to my literature. With a previous novel, 'The Witches', they inscribed me in neo-ruralism, and I accepted it too, because I have always written about nature. I live in Madrid, but I spend more time in my parents' village, and I have never written about the city.
–Why do you claim that, in confinement, there is a kind of search for freedom? Isn't that a contradiction?
–For me, it never has been. Confinement and freedom are absolutely antithetical terms, because with the former we go to prison, to jail, to deprivation of freedom. But the confinement I speak of is voluntary, not imposed. Voluntary solitude can be rich, nourishing, and very inspiring. It allows us to distance ourselves from social obligations.
–Have you ever been told that, with how good a person you seem to be, how do you write about such gruesome matters?
–Many times, especially in book clubs. They expect one person and find another.
–The book is filled with non-explicit, but suggested violence.
–That's right, not even the language is violent; there are no scenes with blood, beatings, etc. I wanted to push the limit, stretch and stretch the gum to see how far I could go. I narrate by withholding information, focusing heavily on a single theme, as if it were a musical form. This way, different interpretations arise, because the reader takes the story to their own ground.
–The girls in 'The Wraths' do not have the candour or innocence attributed to childhood.
–They are girls, not boys. And indeed, I shy away from the Disney trope. I speak of girls who hide an inner howl. Outwardly, they are very well-mannered and calm, but inside they have a volcano. In adolescence, let us remember, everything is extreme; there are hardly any greys, there are whites and blacks. The intermediate terms we learn as we grow and relativise everything. From feeling like absolute victims, they turn the situation around and become executioners and monsters.
–The presence of dogs is very pronounced.
–The direct and authentic explanation is that I have always had dogs. That they appear in my stories and novels is very natural. But on a more symbolic level, the most faithful and loyal animal is the dog. It represents fidelity in contrast to the absolute betrayal felt by these girls.
–In the stories, there are many gaps and ellipses that the reader has to fill in. You are not an easy author.
–In reality, that stems from my own reading ambition. I don't want to be given anything chewed. I want to be considered an intelligent reader and be allowed to contribute parts of the story, the conversation, and the dialogue. Because, in the end, literature is never a monologue. What I know is that I need to write; the day I don't, I feel very strange.
–And can beauty arise after horror?
–In the stories, beauty is absolutely mixed with horror. The girls present the appearance of candid angels, but inside horror nests. It is something very much associated with Romanticism, with the figure of the monster and the sublime. The storm, the abyss, the precipice terrify, but we are attracted by their beauty, even at the cost of leading us to destruction.
–You say you hate stories that end with drum rolls.
–The beginnings, the first line, both in the novel and in the stories, are very important. I have come to the conclusion that the end of the story is, in reality, its beginning, because when we finish it, we often return to the first sentence.
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