Segovia.— David Ukeles (Ubeda, 1990) He wrote the most acclaimed Spanish novel of recent times, a 700-page novel illustrated in exquisite, meticulous prose. The book was rejected 10 times before publication, but was subsequently a huge success, going through twenty editions and receiving a host of awards. Peninsula of empty houses Serruela was nominated for the Novel Prize at the VI Vargas Llosa Biennale. Ucles wrote the story of a family during the Civil War told in the key of magical realism and the saga of a flesh-and-blood hero, a human named Odisto. A few weeks ago, the author announced that he was leaving the social network X after receiving repeated grievances: “It has become a den of fascists.”
in Peninsula of empty houses Ucles tells the story of his family, originally from Quesada, an Andalusian town renamed Gandula in his novels. The pilgrimage there is made there today by readers who want to know the streets where the Ardolento family roamed and lived. They’ve also opened a gym called Jándula Fit, Ucles cheerfully points out, and will put up a sign with that stupid name at the entrance to the city.
Uclés left The Social Network winner of the Cálamo Prize for Best Book of 2024, Ucles, a writer, musician and cartoonist, spoke with LA NACION at the Hay Festival in Segovia.
-When did you decide that this tone and the resources of magical realism would be deployed in Gandola?
– Magical realism is in me as a writer, and it is the style in which I move best. There was no intention of abiding by their rules. I simply wrote using those resources, but without knowing that I was practicing magical realism. There was no time to say: “This will be my destiny” or “I will go to this school.”
-How would you define or describe magical realism today?
In almost every person in the world there is a need to capture recent painful wounds, under the veil of a certain dream, with traditions, myths and customs in the background. This, together with other criteria, is called magical realism, which has always existed, exists in all countries, and which I have naturally developed on my part.
– This literary project took 15 years of work: What is the biggest obstacle in completing it?
-I wanted to make Macondo Iberia from the beginning, since I was 19 years old. I tried to publish it, but they rejected it because I was young, because it was more than 2,000 pages. I was rewriting it every year and a half, adding layers, and halfway through I said, “Since the story is set during the 1930s, and because it is inspired by my grandfather’s childhood, I will write about the war to enhance the story.” I researched the Civil War, and realized that there was no fiction, only articles, telling the entire war, from beginning to end. Since I had a very broad horizon, and since my novel had not been published, and I knew it would be long, I took my characters, spread them out, and told the story of the war. This point was so ambitious, it was so amazing.
– This is the story of the disintegration of a family, and how the country is deteriorating. Do you feel there are still scars from the Civil War in Spain?
-More than scars. A scar is a closed wound, and there are open wounds, because not all Spaniards have the same vision about the war, who started it, why, who ended it, which side hurt the country more than the other. There is no solid historical memory. A year and a half ago in Country I said I wouldn’t be surprised by a future civil war between us, it was a bit of an exaggeration, but now, a year and a half later, I see very similar headlines, we are heading a little towards dark times.
– At the beginning of the novel, there is a description of the family as being so noble, so pure, so united, and suddenly, in that poor but idyllic world, the whole picture is upended. Can that family be read as a metaphor for a country?
-It’s true that I didn’t think about it this way, but what is true is that it is a very noble and very pure family. He devotes himself to the field and suddenly, I say this in the introduction, everyone dies except one. This is what happened to a country that was quiet, mostly illiterate, rural, and suddenly found itself embroiled in a war that made everyone bleeding and left all the homes empty. Not all the people died, but all the houses were left empty, without anyone. everyone.
The narrator has great power. There are facts that he overlooks and says: “This is not the right time to tell them” or “I will tell them later.” Who is the narrator?
-I am not the narrator; I was the narrator. The opinion I had in 2017 is not the same as the opinion I have now. In this novel you can see the passage of time, because the whole war takes place in it and you can also see the passage of time in my writing.
-How has your view of the civil war or the country changed during these years?
-Well, I didn’t know anything before. Everything changed completely because I didn’t know the war, so I knew what happened. Now I see places differently, paintings, street names, novels, biographies, and now I understand many things. Mercy Rodoreda is my favorite author and I’m currently rereading it Death and spring And I say: “Now I understand where that instinct comes from.” It’s the purest vision I’ve ever seen of the abyss that awaits us when we no longer exist.
-Do you think magical realism allowed you to try to weave together all the absurdities of war? What possibility did I offer you?
– Yes, it is true that it led to certain things. On the one hand, the content, which is sometimes quite dramatic, has quieter moments. Let the drama die down sometimes. Although other times I don’t see it that way either. For example, instead of blood coming out of the character’s mouth, sand comes out of his mouth. Or there is a pregnant woman who falls in Malaga and melts because the asphalt is bombed and full of fire. Her entire body dissolves except for the fetus. To me, this scene is much more powerful than simply writing that a pregnant woman fell and died.
– There are very strong images in the novel. Did you look up to any artists in particular?
-I had an indirect influence on Rafael Zabaleta, a cubist painter from my land, who appears on the cover (Hajj1959), also by Picasso and German Expressionism. Even in cinema, there is Murnau and I also have film references: Paolo Sorrentino, Roy Anderson and Wes Anderson.
– Did you work specifically on the image of the novel, not only on the plot nor on the style, but also on what panels will remain from each chapter?
– Taking color and shape into consideration. I wanted to make a baroque altarpiece and summarize each scene in an image. I’m telling you about the Battle of Teruel, yes, but the picture is the little plane frozen in the sky. I’ll tell you what happened at Jarama, yes, but the picture is of the chained mule and the man falling into the mines that sharpen pencils.
-Do you consider that? Peninsula of empty houses Is it a political novel?
-Yes, because it shows you the entire civil war from outside the Second Republic to the first results of Francoism. Then he teaches you, and takes a picture of everything that happened, with many characters with different ideologies. It won the Historical Novel Awards (Spartacus Award for Best Historical Novel 2025). It won awards for fiction (Kelvin Prize). A very hybrid novel and as such has a very political role. It is a novel about memory, about Iberia, about our anthropology, and perhaps most importantly, the drama of war.
-The novel is based on your own story. Was there anything you were able to understand when you finished the book?
-I understand the silence of relatives. I was lucky to be able to push my grandfather. I understand my uncle who went to bed and never came out again. He was a lying man, as they called him. And I understand the pain that is passed down from generation to generation, which we see a lot in Jaén and Andalusia, but also in Spain. I understand the extent of the wounds we suffer and I understand the character of the Iberian people more and better than before.