He has much of an heir to that oral tradition of gathering around the bonfire and telling stories with engaging and advancing plots that are woven with simplicity and effectiveness, leaving no room for too many artifices, much less annoying digressions. His stories draw from that, and from comics and genre cinema and, very especially, from that whole generation of authors who wrote the golden pages of our popular literature.
And now Juan Carlos Fernández smiles proudly at the bar, thinking about his brand new book, Locos peligrosos (Dangerous Madmen), published by Matraca, "which is also bringing out very interesting works by beloved masters like Joseph Berna, Adolfo Quibus or Curtis Garland, alongside great talents of current pulp like Álex M. Saponi, Gabriel Diaz Barragan or Julián Sánchez Caramazana." The latter, a great friend and, to some extent, a kind of mentor to the regular.
An early riser, "after too long working in a factory from six in the morning to two in the afternoon," Juan Carlos placidly sips a morning beer to the rhythm of Peter Franks Group's Dream in colour, while he misses a time "when writers could fully dedicate themselves to what they liked and not depend on other shitty jobs. I wish one could live off this, like back then."
A persistent reader of novels and comics, and an omnivorous devourer of films and series, he finds free time wherever he can "to write what comes to my mind, from short stories to novels. And, although I try to write about everything, what I'm most drawn to is science fiction and horror with certain doses of intrigue."
Together with Sánchez Caramazana —who has published his books Relaciones fatales (Fatal Relationships), Pesadillas en serie B (B-Movie Nightmares) and ¿Quién dijo miedo? (Who Said Fear?)— he tries to attend all possible events related to pulp culture and B-movies, such as the Área Pulp festival and its derivatives, which helped him transcend what he defines as a certain feeling of being anchored. "As Julián says, who even took me to sign at the Madrid Book Fair: if they don't see you, you don't exist. That's why I also try to be on social media, although sometimes it ends up costing me to disconnect."
The fruits of learning
In 1996, a young Juan Carlos enrolled in a comic scriptwriting course with Alfredo Pons. That was a turning point in his life's trajectory, "because he was the one who taught me the keys to narrate." Years later, after that very important first step to provide scaffolding and polish that innate urge to tell stories, came his literary debut, The Girl from Venus. "I released that first novel with one of those self-publishing houses. It caught me at a bad time and they did a shoddy job, but that helped me meet other writers, at least locally." Who said learning wouldn't be difficult?
Juan Carlos Fernández is one of the most consolidated names in the city's pulp literary sceneHis next work, the science fiction novel After the End, "it remains, without detracting from my other books, the one that gives me the most satisfaction." The writer confesses that, in that apocalyptic work where nothing is what it seems and gusts of black humor blow mercilessly over the narrative, "I put in a lot of bad blood that I had accumulated. The thing turned out perfectly with the brilliant cover that the cartoonist Santipérez made."
---And now, with six books already in circulation, at what point would you say you are?
The regular smiles shyly. "I'm very happy," he replies. "Because to those works we must add the wonderful anthologies that Iván Guevara and Tony Jim have just published, Pandorum and 10 del 20, in which I collaborate."
The difficult learning is bearing fruit and the best part is that he has plenty of steam left, because he warns that right now he has "some things pending publication, some others to review, and more things to write." Time will tell, then, and whenever there is time.
Memorable pre-Olympic party
Born in Barcelona in 1971, "I think in Vall d'Hebrón," the regular's life is mostly concentrated in the city: "The bulk of the activities I participate in usually take place here." In this sense, his is one of the most consolidated names in the pulp literary scene of this city, which he still loves "although in recent years it seems to me that it has become a theme park of itself, so much has it been focused on tourism."
There are many memories associated with urban corners, but he opts for one in particular. "I have a lot of affection for a day in 1992, when the Olympics were about to end, when I got really drunk with some friends, and that wild party ended up inspiring a comic script. I doubt it will ever see the light of day, but it also gave rise to a short story that I later converted into a chapter of one of my books."
---Wow! Which one?
---That's all I can tell you--- replies the mysterious writer, who then asks for another beer.
---Hey, you're not going to get drunk here looking for inspiration, are you?
And Juan Carlos Fernández bursts out laughing, before answering the joke:
---No, no, you'll give me this one with a serving of bravas--- anticipating the long way a good bar-side chat like this has to go.