Lea Vélez (Madrid, 1970) grew up among books: her father, Carlos Vélez, hosted the legendary Spanish Television program Encounters with letters. Now she is a screenwriter, playwright and writer: her latest novel, recently published, is titled Gardel’s daughter (Backlighting).
Gardel’s daughter Its background is the Argentine dictatorship. Is there a cure for trauma like that? I don’t know if there is a cure, but the treatment is to tell, look and listen. I think that cinema or novels have an important role there. Fiction is a way to excite and elevate reality, as Cortazar said, to a higher level, and examining trauma is the first step to soften it.
The novel revolves around the idea of identity. How much does historical memory weigh on it? Well, a lot. I had a Falangist grandfather. One day in 1998 or so, I read in the press that Judge Garzón accuses my grandfather, who had been dead since 1948, of state crimes and his name appears in a case of Spanish historical memory. This opens up family conversations. Was he a good man? Where do my values come from? We know he was. Is he a good guy because he saves the poet Victoriano Cremer from the San Marcos prison, which was a repulsive detention center similar to Esma? Am I like him? Why was my grandfather sentenced to death in 1938? How did he feel when he went to prison for alleged betrayal?
What book made you a reader? Maupassant’s stories as a literary reader, but as a voracious reader, The Adventures of Coyote.
And as a writer? The dolls Nancy, Core and Lesly, who were the mothers of Los Barriguitas, turned me into a writer. With all of them I played to invent Douglas Sirk melodramas.
What does a novelist learn from writing television and theater? You learn to write like Scheherazade, with the constant threat of having your head cut off.
And vice versa? That there is an inconceivable world, the literary one, in which those who rule finally listen to you.
What book do you have on your nightstand right now? On the bedside table I have several boxes of expired lorazepam, but on my kindle I read The secret, by Donna Tartt.
And one that he couldn’t finish? I almost never finish books. The ones I don’t like I leave right away and the ones I like I don’t want to finish.
What is the movie you have seen the most times? EITHER Memories of Africa or Lightning Mcqueen, one of those two.
Name your three favorite series of all time. Gilmore Girls. The West Wing of the White House. Miss Marple.
And the last one you saw at once? The twelve, the Australian adaptation.
A musician you particularly admire? Bob Dylan.
What song is playing on loop in your head right now? Uncle John’s Band, by The Grateful Dead.
In which museum would you stay to live? Not in the Prado, because my mother has already asked to live there. Me in the Cerralbo museum, which is full of little boxes.
The last play you saw? The Motive and the Cue, with Johnny Flynn playing Richard Burton, in London.
Do you have any cultural guilty pleasures? I can watch anything, no matter how horrible, that features Sam Neill.
What is the best review you have received? My father entering my kitchen with the pages of The garden of memory in his hand and tears in his eyes saying: “This is wonderful.”
And the worst? Well, almost all the previous criticisms from that same father. He nodded laconically and, very correctly, he told me: “Yes, that’s very good.” For me that was deadly.
Who is your favorite historical character? Eve. All women remain the Eve of original injustice.
What job would you never accept? Unfortunately, I already accepted the worst job in the world, being the president of my neighborhood community.
What is socially overrated? The fame, the awards and I suspect the electric cars.
If she weren’t a writer, she would have liked to be… The girl who sings with Bob Dylan Oh sister in the album Desire.
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