Marcos Chicot, clinical psychologist and finalist for the Planeta Prize, concludes his trilogy of philosophical murders with The Murder of Aristotle, set in the turbulent Greece of the 4th century BC. In this interview for Go Aragón, the author reveals how his training in psychology adds depth to thinkers such as Plato and Socrates, now facing conspiracies under the rule of Alexander the Great.
When did your love of literature begin?
My love of literature began before I can remember. As soon as I learned to read, I was hooked on stories, on Asterix, on Tintin… Then came the novels. I couldn’t say exactly when. It’s like asking you about your first memory: it’s always been there.
What led you to choose thrillers and historical novels?
I started out writing novels in different genres. They were experiments, personal challenges, many of them unpublished. But I gradually focused on historical thrillers because that’s what I enjoy most as a reader. For me, the perfect combination is to entertain and educate at the same time. That’s what I aim for in my writing.
Why did you choose Ancient Greece and its philosophers as your central theme?
The question, really, should be: how could I not choose it? Classical Greece is the most fascinating period in history: an artistic, intellectual, and vital explosion. And philosophers laid the foundations for everything we are today. Ethics, morality, politics… it all started there.
“Classical Greece is so fascinating that not writing about it would be strange.”
You studied psychology and worked in that field. How has that influenced your writing?
A lot. When I design a character, I treat them like a patient in therapy. I give them personality tests, sit them on the couch. I only show the tip of the iceberg, but I know their traumas, their childhood, their emotional map.
It’s a very useful professional bias.
Your novels require a lot of research. How do you research?
I’m an obsessive perfectionist. I read everything I can: original works, historians close to the period, primary sources. Then, with that solid foundation, I build the fictional plot. But always with one premise: never change historical reality.
What has surprised you during this research process?
Alexander the Great. We think we know him, but behind the myth I discovered a very lonely person. He had an almost utopian imperial vision: to unite Europe and Asia through relationships, not conquests. No one understood him, not even his army or his friends. He was ahead of his time, and very human.
“I never alter historical reality. It is fiction that adapts to it, not the other way around.”
How do you balance historical reality with narrative tension?
The key is for fiction to embrace history without changing it. The narrative thread serves to maintain the rhythm, the twists and turns, the confrontations. But I always make it clear to the reader what is true and what is invention. That’s why I include an explanatory letter at the end of each novel.
Does The Murder of Aristotle mark the end of a phase? What comes next?
Yes, it marks the end of my phase of reconstructing classical Greece. I don’t want to lock myself away for another five years writing a novel. I’ll look for projects that are more compatible with life. But always with a commitment to education. As Voltaire said: literature must have a social function.
You’ve said that the book is more about the murder of his ideas than the murder of the character. What do you mean?
Plato, Socrates, Aristotle… their ideas made those in power uncomfortable. They were dangerous. Just like today. They denounced corruption and demagoguery. When you read about what they went through, you can’t help but see parallels with our society today.
“Alexander the Great didn’t want to conquer, he wanted to unite. His vision was too big for his time.”
There is a contradiction between the skills needed to attain power and those needed to exercise it. How do you see it?
Plato said it: those who have the virtues to govern do not wish to do so. Those who do wish to do so do not usually have those virtues. Governing should involve seeking the common good, the happiness of as many people as possible. But the skills needed to attain power are different: ambition, unscrupulousness, manipulation.
That is the tension in our democracies.
What have you learned from these novels?
I have spent 20 years reading and thinking with the greatest masters of human thought. It is impossible for that not to transform you. They have taught me critical thinking, morality, depth. They are part of who I am.
