Manuel Rivas: «We cannot let ourselves be moved by emotions»

by time news

Manuel Rivas returned to the ⁣novel ‌with‍ ‘Behind the Sky’, a story that begins ⁢as the story ⁢of‌ a wild​ boar hunt and⁢ ends in a spiral ‌of violence. The Galician author will⁤ speak in‍ a new meeting ⁣of the ‌EL CORREO Hall⁣ which will take place on November 4, starting at 7‍ pm, at the Bidebarrieta Library, about this‌ new milestone in his long⁢ creative career. “Literature is‌ an ecological work, it keeps the meaning of words alive​ and avoids semantic terror, it is very useful to dismantle it”, claims ⁣the writer, recently awarded the National Literature Prize. The event has the ⁢support of the Alfaguara publishing house ​and BBK.

–Do the awards confirm or sanction the quality of an author?

–With prizes you don’t write, just as if you run medals⁣ don’t help you. The recognition of a large jury, ​in ‌which representatives of‌ the Academy​ and ‌the journalists’ association are present, creates​ a‌ very great responsibility for me because ​I have ⁤to ⁢respond to the expectations that exist in that award. ⁤But ⁢what sustains ​you ​is what you write.‌ I don’t show up for the awards. ‌I think​ the⁢ important thing is not to compete but to share.

–After more than four decades of a‍ creative career, do you have any regrets?

–I don’t think that the poetry, novels ​and essays I write ⁤belong to ​different‍ worlds. My ‌way of doing this is in the​ form of concentric circles. I make ⁤a book that expands⁤ and leads me to ⁤another, ‌in a process that takes me​ back, for example, to ‘A Negra⁤ Terra’, one of the first poems I remember⁢ and which takes me to ‘The Carpenter’s ‌Pencil’ and from there to⁤ “The Last Day of Newfoundland.”‌ My job is similar to that⁤ of the⁤ tramp, I have⁢ no clear‍ destiny.

–He assured that‍ he​ writes cross-country skiing.

–I like ⁤to exit the‍ highway from well-marked⁤ roads, I like detours​ and curves, I‌ don’t plan much what I’ll do. I ⁣feel better on the shore because from there I ⁣can see other shores.​ At the center is the command word and speech. I ⁣like walking peripherally,​ exploring ⁣and ‍not⁤ doing karaoke.

–Languages ​​are a‌ battlefield in our country.

–Diversity is positive​ in nature and⁢ culture.‍ It must be recognized‌ and appreciated.‍ It is accepted on a theoretical level but inconvenient when practiced. I think what is incompatible with culture is‍ uniformity.⁣ I tried to translate it in previous experiences,‍ but I felt paralyzed, I didn’t feel comfortable, whereas on this‍ occasion I ⁣realized⁤ it and it was a fluid‍ and joyful experience. ‍Tongues are‌ eager to hug⁢ and touch each other like anatomical tongues. The more things coexist‌ inside you, the broader your gaze and the ​lighter‍ you feel.

–Despite the problems, peripheral languages⁢ ​​and their narratives have won over Spanish ⁤critics.

–Languages ​​are a wonder ⁣in the country that has this cultural biodiversity.⁣ As they say in ‍the⁣ Galician marine world, the almeiro, the

–I believe ⁤you write to ​delve‍ deeper ​into ⁤reality, not to escape from it. Literature is discovery and a place of⁢ why. The worries and fears you feel in your environment ⁤are‌ reflected in what you write. I experienced this when I was 15 when‍ I had to do a ‍horoscope​ in⁢ the ‌editorial​ office of a ⁤newspaper‍ and‌ they told me to copy‍ last year’s. When he made​ me‍ do it I ‍saw myself in front of me and felt very busy. Everything you write will compromise you.

«The ​more ⁤languages ​​coexist inside you, the ⁣broader your gaze‍ and the lighter you feel»

–This ⁢book, from the beginning, was born ⁤with disturbance. We live in a​ time in which‍ the word⁣ peace has disappeared, not even diplomacy uses it anymore. I begin the ⁤novel‌ with the hunting of an animal as if it were a ⁣public enemy and ⁤the persecution becomes human. It talks about that ‍struggle you experience​ when you write,⁢ the conflict between the‌ creative drive and ⁤death, Eros⁤ versus Thanatos.

–In the writing process we inherit the traditions and​ contributions of other authors. There are conscious and unconscious referents. May also be referred to as “The Holy Innocents” or “The National Rifle”. Earthly hell and comedy, self-destruction and competitions⁣ to see who has the most time are intertwined in earthly existence.

–There are many of them and the good‍ thing‍ is that they think differently. There⁣ are male and female ​voices. My mother⁢ spoke to herself ⁢and my grandfather⁤ was a storyteller. In my childhood, he would⁢ walk with me hand in ‌hand and different voices would come⁢ out arguing with each other and⁤ I ⁢would be amazed.⁣ I held onto it because I ⁣thought it might take off.

«When I spend two hours ⁤in front of a thought-provoking‍ novel, I feel it as a ⁣triumph of humanity»

–Yes, we cannot let ourselves be‍ moved ⁢by emotions. ⁤You have to stop and think about those impulses.⁣ The literature that⁤ interests me is⁢ something​ similar to seeing the ‍sea, an⁢ experience that⁣ never tires. Unfortunately the‍ context does not ⁢facilitate this, this acceleration that we experience added to greed does not allow us to see the causalities. Literature weaves together the broken fabric ‍that is the​ world and allows you to see‍ its internal connections.‍ When⁣ I spend two hours with a⁤ novel that encourages⁢ you to ​think, it feels‍ like ‌a triumph⁣ of humanity. It makes you want ⁤to⁢ go ‍out the window and exclaim that everything makes

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Interview Between Time.news ‌Editor ‍and Manuel Rivas, Author of ‘Behind the Sky’

Time.news Editor (TNE): Good​ evening, Manuel. It’s ⁤a pleasure to have you here as we ⁤discuss your latest ⁢novel, ‘Behind⁢ the Sky.’ The book begins as a wild​ boar hunt but escalates into a⁣ spiral of violence. Can ‌you tell us ⁤a bit​ about​ what inspired this juxtaposition of ​elements?

Manuel Rivas (MR): Good evening, and ⁤thank you for having me. The inspiration stems from ⁣our current reality, where the pursuit of peace seems increasingly elusive. ‍The novel opens with the concept of hunting, which serves as ⁢a metaphor for deeper struggles ⁢within⁤ society. The idea is to highlight the transitions from external ‍conflicts to internal battles,​ a reflection of my belief that writing often mirrors the⁢ chaos we experience ‍in everyday life.

TNE: You mention that the novel is born from disturbance and that the word “peace” has ⁢seemingly​ vanished from ⁣our discourse. How do you ⁤think literature can address or‌ even combat ‍these societal issues?

MR: Literature serves‍ as a ‍crucial ‍tool for discovery and understanding. It allows us to grapple with ‌our realities rather than escape them. In my experience,⁤ every word⁣ I put on paper is a commitment to the realities we face, revealing the worries and fears inherent in our surroundings. It’s through ⁤narratives, such as in ‘Behind the Sky,’ that⁣ we can explore the ⁢complexities of existence—where Eros⁣ and ‌Thanatos collide.

TNE: Your approach to writing is very intriguing. You’ve mentioned that you prefer to write as if you’re cross-country skiing, enjoying detours and curves. Can you elaborate on that?

MR: Yes, I think of writing as an exploration rather than a linear‌ journey. I find​ that the ⁣most profound ⁤experiences come from the unexpected paths. By not adhering strictly to a pre-planned route, I’m able to discover insights and create narratives that are richer ‍and more⁢ meaningful. It’s about‍ embracing‍ the uncertainty⁢ and allowing myself to be guided by the creative ⁢process.

TNE: There has been much discussion about⁣ the role of languages and cultural diversity in literature. You’ve​ emphasized‌ the ⁣importance‌ of embracing multiple languages within your writing. ⁣How does this influence your storytelling?

MR: Language diversity is indeed a treasure, particularly in a place with such cultural richness⁤ as ours. Each language teaches us to see the world differently; ‌the more languages ⁣you embrace, the broader your perspective becomes. In​ ‘Behind the Sky,’ I aimed to let various linguistic influences coexist and enrich the narrative. The beauty lies in the interplay between cultures and languages, much like different melodies harmonizing together.

TNE: You’ve had a long and illustrious career spanning‍ over four decades. Reflecting on that journey, do you have any regrets ⁢about your creative choices?

MR: Not really. I view my body of work as ‍interconnected—like concentric circles that lead back to earlier pieces. Each book, poem, or essay contributes to a larger ⁢dialogue ⁢that continues to evolve. I would ‌liken ⁤my ‌journey ‍to that of a ​wanderer without​ a fixed destination, gathering experiences and insights along the way that ‌enrich⁤ my understanding of literature and life.

TNE: You’ve recently received the National Literature Prize, which many see as a significant accolade. How ‍do awards impact your ​writing philosophy?

MR: Awards are undeniably affirming, ⁤but‍ I don’t ⁤revolve my ⁤work around them. The recognition can create a sense of responsibility to meet expectations, yet what truly sustains me ‌is the ‌writing itself. My ⁣focus has ⁣always been on ⁤sharing, ​not competing. After all, literature should foster connection rather than rivalry.

TNE: Lastly, as we wrap up, what can readers expect when they attend your upcoming​ talk at the ​EL CORREO Hall?

MR: ⁤ I plan to delve deeper‌ into the themes⁢ of⁣ ‘Behind the Sky,’ examining the violence ‍inherent in both nature and humanity, as well as ‍the creative struggle that underpins my⁤ writing. It’s a space for reflection and exchange, where I hope to inspire others to explore their own⁤ narratives and engage with the complexities of our world.

TNE: ⁢Thank you, ⁣Manuel, for sharing your insights with us today. We look forward to your continued exploration of these themes ​in literature.

MR: Thank you ‍for ⁤having me! I’m eager to engage with readers ‌and fellow writers as we navigate⁣ these narratives together.

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