Tijmen Klein Gildekamp had visions of water, of a cold drink, of a bath in which he could totally submerge himself.
      The house he was currently occupying was located in the mainly flat area between Seville, Merida and Badajoz. It was the sun-baked bone-dry heart of Andalusia that allowed you to see any travellers from miles away and piles of stones looked like watchmen in the empty landscape. The villages in this area where isolated, their church steeples resembled the masts of stranded ships. Its nearest village was nothing more than a cross-road, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a bad spaghetti western but it had a small supermarket where he did his shopping. It was a shop that displayed black pudding made with rice and strange oddly-shaped loafs of bread, fresh olives and dark heavy wine that clung to your palate. Everything was typically Spanish, except for the landscape which formed the perfect backdrop for a spaghetti western. Centuries ago the trees in this area were cut down to build ships that sailed to discover America. ....

 

We will translate this book into English soon, to keep informed about progress please contact us.

‘Intriguing, exciting and full of striking scenes’ – Xandra Schutte, publisher

 

‘An intriguing book. Very well written. Congratulations’ – Anna Penta, editor