"I suppose deep down I've always had a bit of a 19th-century soul, not in a strict sense, but rather for that fascination with the old, with things that almost no one looks at anymore." Ainhoa Corts sips a Guinness as the overwhelming rhythm of Whitesnake's Rough an'ready kicks off the late afternoon. "I started with a fascination for the Middle Ages ---she continues---, for those lives that now only appear in ancient manuscripts, and ended up falling for the 20th and 21st centuries, where everything seems to burn closer."
Unable to stay still, she earns a living as a History and also French teacher, "thanks to my time studying in Toulouse," although her love for digging into the past of what we have been has led her to navigate different waters. She has worked on archival and historical memory projects linked to the Barcelona Provincial Council, has done radio and has gotten involved in all sorts of cultural fregaos, seeking to satisfy her need "to understand how we got here." And she has done all this "always with the feeling that History is alive and seeps into everything we do."
From one of these experiences, "a project through which we collected testimonies of the Civil War and the post-war period," her first novel was born: Bajo el cielo, frente al mar (Under the Sky, Facing the Sea). Published a couple of years ago, the work reviewed the life of Martin Leblanc, from his childhood in Brittany shaken by the 1929 crisis to Petain's unbreathable France in World War II, passing through the powder keg Barcelona of the Civil War.
Now, just two years later, her second novel, Maktüb. Lo que está escrito (Maktüb. What is Written) (Sar Alejandría Editorial), is released, a work that transports the reader to the present century to explore the limits between destiny and freedom, through war scenarios that unite Europe with Afghanistan. There, despite the harshness of war, blood and loss, love is possible amidst reporters, refugees and false flag operations.
Without really knowing where it all leads
Ainhoa Corts was going to be a researcher. Or that was the horizon she was moving towards, "until I understood that research, as I had imagined it, does not always fit with the real world." And while she would have loved to be able to dedicate herself fully "to studying, to researching, to spending my life among archives and manuscripts," she asserts that circumstances led her to have "to put my feet on the ground, because the humanities are very neglected and there comes a point when you have to decide between continuing to dream or trying to build something stable."Working on heritage recovery projects and in some cultural environments, she encountered a very bureaucratic world, "sometimes quite closed, and where they don't always take you seriously, especially if you are a woman." So, although it wasn't her first option, she made the decision to dedicate herself to teaching. "Over time, it has become a space where I can continue talking about what I am passionate about, and infect others with that curiosity. In the end, I believe that balance between reality and passion for what I do is what has brought me here, and what, in the end, led me to write historical fiction," she reasons.
A self-confessed stubborn person, she feels very satisfied "to keep going, even if things are not always easy. But I keep going, I suppose pushed by that mix of obstinacy and absurd faith that makes me keep writing, teaching and creating, despite not knowing very well where it all leads."
Although, for not knowing where all this leads, she seems to be very determinedly facing her next projects, "which will address 20th-century themes from different angles, seeking a bit of that critical and emotional point that I always try to convey." More things burning close by. At the same time, she ventures into other fields such as horror –"I have participated in a compendium of stories of this genre that will be published shortly"– or music, "which for me is another way of telling things. I have been singing gospel for many years and that gives me another energy, another way of expressing that is later reflected in my writing."
The puppeteer's magic continues in the streets
Despite being from Vic, the writer has always had"the feeling that Barcelona was part of me". And that is largely due to her grandfather, "a very Catalanist man, proud of the city, who told me his anecdotes, spoke to me about architects, painters, writers, and all those stories that make the city have a life of its own. He always told me that, when he was a child, in the Gòtic, there was a puppeteer who roamed the squares with his portable theater and always narrated the same story of a stray cat that stole shiny objects from tourists and hid them on the city's rooftops." She takes a long gulp of dark beer, and adds: "I never knew if it was true or if he exaggerated; no one has clarified it for me. But every time I walk through those streets, I like to imagine that man really existed, and that the post-war children, with short pants and high socks, followed him with astonished eyes wherever he went."A magic that is more in the past than in a present infected by mass tourism: "Neighborhoods like the Gòtic or the Born, which for me have incredible magic, become difficult to inhabit and almost impossible to feel in their true history. Between the terraces, the noise, and the cultural bureaucracy, it becomes complicated to connect with the essence of the city," she laments, now finishing the last gulp of Guinness.
--- What will reconnect you to the essence of this city is our gastronomic offer, in case you want to have dinner, it's time.
Here I go again by Whitesnake fills the atmosphere with its slow tempo. Ainhoa Corts exults. "Combo platter, always! ---she replies---. I like to nibble on everything, try mixtures… like in art or literature!" And she takes a few seconds, before finishing, laughing: "And there must be dessert, that's not open to discussion!"