"To define myself, I would tell you that I am a small-town girl who has always loved to read a lot." The writer Celia Santos smiles, enveloped by the early morning calm in the Bar. She orders a coffee with milk and a croissant, "but make it a sobrasada one," while following the tranquil rhythms of Ángel Petisme's Piel de celuloide. "My love for literature led me to collaborate with many media outlets, talking about literary and cultural topics," she continues.
Born in Bergara and based in Barcelona since she was 25, from a young age she honed her skills talking about books in various digital media, only to soon after make the leap to television, directing her own literary recommendation space on Justo Molinero's TeleTaxi for seven years. A job she combined with coordinating the literary website Más que palabras. Paradise, without a doubt, for every book lover.
But something was missing. The need "to cross the fence that separates those who talk about books from those who write them." In 2011, finally, she jumped to the other side. "I published my first work, the children's story El faro de los corazones extraviados (The Lighthouse of Lost Hearts), and it was a dream come true, because I saw that I could tell the stories I had inside and that these could connect with readers, move them."
She confesses that she doesn't live from writing; almost no one does in this country, so she complements her authorial facet with editing, training, and tutoring work for professional writers and readers. "For a relatively short time now, I've been a freelance, and that forces me to organize myself a lot." But she is happy: "I am proud of my independence, something I have always defended, facing difficulties. The path has been worth it."
Extraordinary stories of extraordinary women
Since she made the leap to that proverbial "other side," things haven't gone badly for Celia. After a second children's story, in 2018 she debuted in adult fiction with La maleta de Ana (Ana's Suitcase), about women who in the 60s traveled to Germany to build a future in that Europe that then seemed so far from here, in every sense. "It was an unexpected success, because it sold very well." That excellent result almost still surprises her. With the next one, Más rápida que la vida (Faster Than Life), a fictionalized biography of Dorothy Levitt, the first female racing driver in the United Kingdom and one of the first in the world, came the cold shower. "That book came out in the middle of the pandemic, with people confined." And, like so many works of that ill-fated 2020, it crashed.
With La niña de Rusia she took flight again. "This is a book I lived very deeply, because it's the story of my neighbor, who, in her childhood, during the war, was sent to Russia. She had an incredible life that deserved to be told." And she sips some coffee, before adding: "And don't you think! For being 100 years old now, she's very well." And she pronounces each of these words with enormous affection.
--- And just over two years later, you've just published a new novel.
Celia Santos states, satisfied, regarding El país del atardecer dorado (Ediciones B) that, as could not be otherwise, it addresses a story of women as true as it is incredible, that of the Marta Plan: a migratory agreement signed between Spain and Australia that led to more than 800 young, single Spanish women traveling to the antipodes between 1960 and 1963 to contribute to the increase of its Christian population. This framework serves the author to construct a story of silences broken by courage, where the protagonist, Elisa, has already lost too many things to be afraid of anything.
Living (in) the city of wonders
The parishioner's relationship with Barcelona is "a relationship of much, much love," she smiles. "We have sea, mountains, and the best possible urban layout." And, above all, in this deep emotional bond with the city, its literary spirit has a specific weight. "All those novels that explain it, that narrate it, the best of which, for me, is La ciudad de los prodigios by Eduardo Mendoza."
Annoyed, however, with "the rental scandal affecting Barcelona," writer Celia Santos warns that "we cannot sacrifice a city, its essence, its character, its inhabitants, for the sake of tourism; we should stop this." She finishes her coffee, polishes off the last bite of croissant, and checks the time. "I'm meeting my son Jordi a little later, at noon. You have food here, right?"
--- Absolutely! We have everything. Menu, combo plates, sandwiches, set meal. All exquisite... and not designed for cheap tourists!
Celia Santos laughs and nods. "I'm a classic set meal person with my wine and soda and everything," she reveals.
--- Well, say no more.