Olor a hormiga
An uncomfortable, tender and evocative novel that both fascinates and repulses, holding up a mirror to the most basic of human insecurities.
To Olvido, nothing is more evident than old age. Going out seems pointless, so she waits for time to catch up with her while distracting herself with her coloring books and arguing with the cat. And while she waits, she tries to remember. And she recalls that one day a girl arrived to take care of her and the house, and her youth seemed like the cure to Olvido’s loneliness. Her eyes, her ears, her hair. And then an argument. The girl no longer comes and Olvido gets by without meals or company, or even memories. But it won’t be long before the ants start making themselves a new nest.
With only two characters, both women, and a story set entirely within four walls, poet Júlia Peró’s narrative debut is about a seldom discussed reality: The plight of older adults who live alone and resent their current situations.
PRESS
«Fascinating, beautiful, heartbreaking, disruptive, sexual, completely unexpected.» Sabina Urraca
«Hard, uncomfortable, violent, sad. Tremendously captivating.» Sara Herranz
«Powerful and lucid.» Laura Ferrero
«It pierces and sticks to the skin like a tingling.» María Sánchez
«Delicious writing.» Sara Torres
«A mirror to one’s own old age. You can’t stop reading.» Alejandra Martínez de Miguel
«A superb tale of terror.» María Bastarós
«A wild honesty. A brilliant rhythm.» Alejandra Parejo
«A treasure.» Flavita Banana
«Beautiful and rough.» Andrea Gumes
«It points to the very limit of the human condition.» Sara Barquinero
«Her words produced a physical impact on my body.» Berta Gómez
