Luis Mateo Díez and the preoccupation with human morality

To mitigate the gloom and bitterness found in many of his works, he adeptly weaves in adventures that are centred around unexpected, eccentric characters.

Dream worlds

Díez draws heavily from his personal experiences, particularly his childhood years in León and his upbringing in rural post-civil war Spain, which became a familiar backdrop in several of his works.

In his own words, this era resembles us all, with its post-war ruin and moral decay – a time of loss, bankruptcy, defeat, silence, and shame.

Díez skillfully and poetically pulls us into his preoccupation with human morality.

He often drops his readers into unrecognisable realms, blending reality and dreams and infusing them with rural metaphors. There, his doomed characters navigate their lives, disoriented and destined for destruction, unable to escape fate despite their best efforts.

Some critics have dubbed Díez's worlds as "unrealistic". Indeed, the author's literary journey has continued to evolve in the direction of "unreality," exploiting a dreamlike aspect that, on several occasions, has tended toward the comedic.

Despite believing that "excessive dreaming is not good," especially today, where "this world is completely corrupted,"  Díez's pen never seems too far away from a dream.

Stomping grounds

Díez is intricately connected to the storytelling tradition of the Castile and León region, producing some of the most beautiful personal narratives in the Spanish language in recent decades.

From a very young age, he was captivated by the art of storytelling: "I was born a writer; I sold my life to the devil at the age of twelve. I knew that the magic of storytelling and narrative was a means to experience everything I couldn't live."

Since his first collection of short stories, Memorial de hierbas, published in 1973, he knew that he would steer clear of the elitist concept of literature, always feeling that "art and literature are closely connected to life."

"As a writer and storyteller, I was very clear from the beginning about my interest in the pride of poets and my absolute lack of interest in the pride of novelists," he said.

"I am not a novelist who writes about himself; I was only interested in drawing inspiration from the stories of others."

Not particularly enthusiastic about urban novels, either, he tended to lean towards the local rather than the global.

With La fuente de la edad (1986), Díez snagged both the Critics' Award and the National Literature Award for Best Novel in a single swoop – and shook up the complacency found in big city literary scenes.

From the get-go, the book launched Díez to new literary heights. A game-changer in Spanish storytelling, it flipped the script by offering a quirky viewpoint, a far cry from the usual Madrid or Barcelona-centric tales. This wasn't an urban epic; it was a "regional" revelation. (A teaser for this literary rebellion could be found in his previous novel, Las Estaciones Provinciales.)

Díez's unwavering commitment to exploring the heart of his stomping grounds – Castile and León – paved the way for his magnum opus a few years later, the trilogy of El Reino de Celama, an epic adventure unfolding in the mystical landscapes of his province.

An epic setting

The world-building that Diez crafts in the trilogy – also known as The Kingdom of Selama – is immense; it's his own Yoknapatawpha, a Faulknerian symphony, or a Macondo in the spirit of Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

It's a place that defies existence, sometimes whispered as Páramo, The Plain, or just The Province – cryptic monikers for a kingdom born of pure imagination.

This kingdom takes shape across three novels: El espíritu del páramo (The Páramo Spirit) (1996), La ruina del cielo (The Ruin of the Sky) (1999), and El oscurecer (The Obscuring) (2002).

When Díez wrapped up the inaugural book, he glimpsed the vastness of his vision for this untamed land, realising the need to secure the perpetuity of this newfound fantastical universe. It was a "discovery," he mused, reached after a meandering odyssey of "purification through writing."

As for the second award-winning novel, undoubtedly the crown jewel of the trilogy, it stands as a masterpiece in the annals of Spanish literature. Its plot intricacy, structural brilliance, technical finesse, and linguistic excellence render it truly unparalleled.

There have been editions of the trilogy, not to mention a theatrical adaptation co-authored with Fernando Ordiales in 2008, presented by the Teatro Corsario group. Additionally, a critical edition surfaced in 2015.

The trilogy of Celama, in its entirety, delves into the existential dilemma of humanity.

We unearth the protagonist's childhood in the first instalment, then follow the adult life of the narrator, before we meet the presumed author in the second novel, culminating in the portrayal of the character's old age in the final novel.

A tale from the turn of the 20th century, it sheds an unforgettable light on the twilight of rural cultures.

About Díez

Díez was born on 21 September, 1942, in Villablino, where his father held municipal responsibilities.

His family moved to León in 1954. Its rich rural heritage played a pivotal role in shaping his early imagination, be it oral or written.

He studied law in Oviedo and Madrid in 1969, joining the Technical Corps of the General Administration in the City Council of Madrid. His life oscillated gracefully between civil service and literary creativity, a delicate equilibrium he maintained until retirement.

Between 1963 and 1968, he collaborated with the poetry magazine Claraboya. During this time, his initial poems surfaced and were compiled in 1972.

However, his poetic ventures were short-lived, making way definitively for narrative imagination.

His debut in the short story format started with Memorial de hierbas in 1973, and approximately a decade later, in 1982, he presented his first novel, Las Estaciones Provinciales.

This marked the beginning of a prolific journey, with over 40 publications encompassing novels and various other works.