You are coming to Zaragoza to present «It’s Raining and I Love You.» What does this city mean to you in the context of your tour and this new solo phase?
Yes, I am here in Zaragoza. It’s a city I really like, particularly because since the first time I came to present books, I have noticed that it is a place that truly engages with culture, and I love that. In times of significant cuts to cultural funding, it seems to me that Zaragoza is not reducing its commitment. I value that a lot, aside from the wonderful tourist attractions this beautiful city has. I am very happy to be here.
Isn’t it a bit daunting to face readers with such a personal story?
In reality, what is daunting is having written such an intimate story that speaks about my paternal family history. At some point during the process, I felt like I was stepping into a minefield, but ultimately I found shelter in fiction, the peace of inventing what happens to the characters. I tried to distance myself from being a family chronicler to embrace a much more reassuring role of the novelist who invents a universe, even if I am talking about my family and my father’s life.
You have mentioned that «It’s Raining and I Love You» stems from a vital experience. How did that story come about?
Yes, the life experience that the novel is based on is a coincidence, a happy finding. It all began with a 19th-century wall clock I found on Wallapop, made by my great-great-grandfather Ramón Mercero, who was a master clockmaker. This clock is for sale on Wallapop for €3000, and upon discovering it, I found the finding amusing and sent it to my siblings, but it stayed with me, and eventually, I realized there was something mysterious about it, a kind of signal that I had to write about this. Writing about that clock meant writing about my paternal family. I began working with the feeling that I had been chosen by that clock to tell its story.
The narrative encompasses four generations of a Basque family throughout the 20th century. How did you structure that journey through time?
The novel traces four generations of the Yarza family, representing four distinct stages of Spain’s history: industrialization, the Republic and the Civil War, the post-war period and Francoist repression, and finally the present time, dealing with issues of mental health, stress, and insomnia that we experience today. The clock serves as a common thread, a witness to the passage of time and the acceleration that separates us from the calm of another century.
What surprised you the most while researching your family history?
Discovering that my grandfather was executed in the early days of the Civil War by people he knew, neighbors from his own village. That revelation deeply moved me and made me understand the dimension of the fratricidal grief that the war caused. It also confronted me with the inexorable passage of time and the sadness of everything that will never return.
The novel reflects a very strong Basque identity. How does it influence the characters?
Undoubtedly, Basque culture and identity shape all the protagonists. The novel is also a tribute to that culture: its traditions, its folklore, its language, its matriarchy. The feeling of loss is not the same in a village in Guipúzcoa as it is in a town in Seville, and I wanted to reflect that without sentimentality, simply showing it naturally.
After years of writing with other authors under the name Carmen Mola, how has it been to face such an intimate project alone?
It has been a pleasure. Working with my colleagues from Carmen Mola was a magnificent experience, but writing alone has allowed me to regain the feeling of total sovereignty over each decision. There have been moments of loneliness and insecurity, but also of fulfillment. I could not have written this novel with them because it speaks about me and my family.
Time and its perception are very present in the novel. What did you discover while writing about it?
The clock forced me to constantly reflect on time. I wondered what the sense of the future was like in 1940, during the post-war period, and how it is today. Time is a psychological concept: it depends on each person’s life state for it to pass slowly or quickly, to be distressing or pleasurable. I enjoyed having the passage of time as a significant underlying theme in the novel.
Can we say that this is a novel about collective memory?
Yes, it is a story about the search for memory, about identity and reconciliation. It speaks of how family narratives, often constructed on silences or distortions from the post-war period, shape our lives. It is a reflection on those fragile foundations that we inherit without questioning.
Family plays a fundamental role in the novel. Why do you think it is such a powerful source of stories?
The family is the stickiest universe that exists. It is where the most intense, yet the most conflictive relationships are formed. It is an inexhaustible mine of stories, of love, disappointments, and misunderstandings. In It’s Raining and I Love You, I have tried to harness all that emotional powder keg.
In a time dominated by immediacy, is there still space for slow novels that invite reflection?
I want to believe that there is. Although we live in times of haste and superficiality, there are still readers who seek emotion and reflection. The opposite would be to fall into absolute nihilism.
What place does memory occupy in current literature?
Memory will always occupy an essential place. It is a literary and human motor. Even though society tends toward immediacy and frivolity, memory is an antidote against that acceleration and a reminder of who we are.
If you had to define “Está lloviendo y te quiero” in one sentence, what would it be?
I would say that it is the story of a 19th-century wall clock, which is also the story of a Spanish family over four generations and, at the same time, the story of a troubled country during the 20th century. It is the story of collective memory tinged with emotion.
What would you like the reader to feel when they close the book?
I would like them to feel the joy of having read a novel that has moved them. I seek to move the reader, and hopefully also to make them reflect on time, on how we live, and whether we should seek a more humane and sensible pace.
