Nik kantatu eta dantza egiten du mendiak

Living in the Pyrenees -and dying, or living dead- is what speaks to us in this novel. The clouds of the storm speak to us, and the tormentor, and the poet of the farmer who will plunge into death, speaks to us, to us and to the earth. And he also tells us about the young widow who will have to raise children alone from then on. And the four women who were hanged after being declared witches speak to us. And the mountains, and the mushrooms, the men and the women, and the ghosts, and the laminae, and the fairies, the deer, the dogs... The land itself speaks to us, the same land that once gave birth to the mountains. These formidable mountains have known for centuries the harsh life of the natives and their loves; they have known persecutions, escapes, wars, hatreds. Border life. And they always look beautiful to us; even more beautiful when a peto narrator like Irene Solà makes us the gift of the pleasure of telling. In a telluric way of looking and telling with a special instinct, most of the voices in the novel are female. Perhaps woven according to a conception that would only be possible at the hands of a woman.