Set in Spain, in the years after the Civil War, when the country is ruled by the military dictator Francisco Franco, this social drama tells the story of two women, friends since childhood. Rocio and Inma are different in every way, but nevertheless form a close friendship. We follow the lives of two girls—one rich, one poor— from childhood to maturity, as they share happiness, fears, disappointments, broken hearts and betrayals. Rocio is a shy and trusting girl, who becomes easily seduced by a handsome foreigner, while Inma, confident and manipulative, is the one who saves her from disgrace and the inevitable expulsion from the family home. But some years later, when Inma too becomes pregnant, things take a more sinister turn and her subsequent actions have a devastating affect on Rocio and her new husband.
Genre: FICTION / HistoricalThe Amazon rankings are as follows
#16397 in Books > Fiction > Romance > Sagas
#16482 in Books > Fiction > Family Sagas
#34422 in Books > Fiction > Romance > Historical Romance > General
This books has had steady sales since it was published and I have been asked on many occasions when it will be translated into Spanish.
The night had been still but now the wind had started to blow from the south; it brought with it a fine red sand, gathered in the deserts of the Sahara and now deposited here on the side of their mountain. The wind blew the sand under the door of Rocio’s grandmother’s house where it lay on the rough clay floor like a rosy carpet; it found its way through the cracks in the window frames and lay along the iron bars that her grandfather had put up to protect them from pilfering fingers; it stung the eyes of the dogs that guarded the goats, making them curl up small and tuck their heads down into their fur; it chased the cats into the barn; it polluted the water in the bucket that always stood by the door, floating for the briefest of moments on its surface before turning to an orange mud that sank to the bottom. The wind was relentless. It rattled the plough shares, the scythes and hoes that hung along the lime painted wall; it bent the branches of the olive tree and scattered the blossom; it snatched the heads off the geraniums that sat in their gaily painted tins in the yard; it carried the sweet smells of far-off lands and the distant sounds of strange music. But Rocio didn't mind the wind; she was used to its constant presence. Sometimes, like today, it came off the sea and all the way up the hill to her village, cooling her with its salty breath, other days it blew down from the sierras, fresh and cold and smelling of snow. Sometimes, in summer, it would bring the terral, the hot wind from the plains that dried her eyes and throat and would not let her sleep.
‘Rocio. Rocio.’ It was her grandmother calling her.
The child held the donkey by a rope halter and walked beside him, whispering in his ear. It wasn't necessary to lead him. It was second nature to him by now, but she liked to be close to the animal and from time to time stroked the coarse hair on his cheek.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Evelyn T M Martins
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Author review: Evelyn keeps to her deadlines and takes meticulous care to remove any typos etc. She is very easy to communicate with and doesn't hesitate to check with you if she needs clarification over anything. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Eva Romero Lozano
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Author review: It is a pleasure working with Eva. She is an excellent translator, methodical and precise. If she is unsure of what I want to say she checks with me. I can highly recommend her work and hope to have more books translated by her. |
