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  • Xavier Alcalá
  • Marilar Aleixandre
  • Fran Alonso
  • Diego Ameixeiras
  • Rosa Aneiros
  • Anxo Angueira
  • Xurxo Borrazás
  • Begoña Caamaño
  • Marcos Calveiro
  • Marica Campo
  • Xosé Carlos Caneiro
  • Fina Casalderrey
  • Francisco Castro
  • Cid Cabido
  • Fernando M. Cimadevila
  • Alfredo Conde
  • Ledicia Costas
  • Berta Dávila
  • Xabier P. DoCampo
  • Pedro Feijoo
  • Miguel Anxo Fernández
  • Agustín Fernández Paz
  • Elena Gallego Abad
  • Camilo Gonsar
  • Xabier López López
  • Inma López Silva
  • Antón Lopo
  • Manuel Lourenzo González
  • Andrea Maceiras
  • Marina Mayoral
  • Xosé Luís Méndez Ferrín
  • Xosé Monteagudo
  • Teresa Moure
  • Miguel-Anxo Murado
  • Xosé Neira Vilas
  • Emma Pedreira
  • Xavier Queipo
  • María Xosé Queizán
  • Anxo Rei Ballesteros
  • María Reimóndez
  • Manuel Rivas
  • Antón Riveiro Coello
  • Susana Sanches Arins
  • María Solar
  • Anxos Sumai
  • Abel Tomé
  • Suso de Toro
  • Rexina Vega
  • Domingo Villar
  • Iolanda Zúñiga

María Solar

Biography

mariasbioMaría Solar works in the fields of both journalism and literature. For many years, she has been a presenter for Galician television and radio. Having studied both journalism and biology, she has published essays on ecology. Her numerous children’s books have been included in the prestigious White Ravens Catalogue. My Favourite Nightmare was voted best children’s book of the year on the literary blog Fervenzas Literarias and won the Lazarillo Prize awarded by the Spanish Ministry of Culture. In the field of adult literature, she has published Stolen Hours, which received the Sarmiento Prize awarded annually by Galician schoolchildren to their favourite book. Her work has been translated into Spanish, Catalan, Polish and Italian.

Photograph © Cris Andina

STOLEN HOURS synopsis

The novel Stolen Hours (232 pages) is divided into twenty-five chapters and set in April 1979, two years before divorce was legalized in Spain.

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STOLEN HOURS

April 1979

I

 

When Lola got home there was nobody waiting at the door to give her a kiss on the cheek, as much as she’d have liked there to be. Only a few years ago the children would shower her with kisses when she came through the door, kisses that were sticky with chocolate, the sweetest and most essential kind of kisses. When the kisses stopped they were replaced by a flurry of questions, all starting with a “Mum, did you know?” Any problems were left at the door. There was space only for love in that house, even if it wasn’t the kind of love you get between two adults. Now the kids were teenagers and they didn’t rush to the door to welcome her home at the end of the day anymore. That’s why she noticed her husband no longer kissed her and even when he did, his kisses didn’t make her feel the same way she had before; there wasn’t any point in her lying.

She found her daughter Ana exactly where she knew she would, glued to the television. Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the screen and only occasionally did she tear them away long enough to take a bite of her sandwich, her movements more robotic than they were conscious. Ana was sat on the sofa with a plate on her knees; the plate itself sat on top of a kitchen towel so it didn’t burn her legs. She was watching a music show; famous groups and artists sang while flamboyant dancers filled the stage around them. The presenter was wearing a green jumpsuit, a modern thing with a red belt that tied it in at the waist and legs that billowed out like an elephant’s foot. Ana was fascinated by this woman, so blonde and always so well dressed. The envy and example for every teenager like her. Everything was perfect on the TV screen. The screen transmitted images of a world where the winners were always beautiful and happy, the kind of world that Ana dreamed of and wanted for herself. Ana looked up to this presenter, not to Lola, her mother, who was a strong, rebellious woman who fought for what she believed in. Girls at Ana’s age seldom look up to their mothers or find them interesting, quite the contrary in fact.

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