In a previous blog, I wrote about my recent visit to the literary Nobel Peace Prize recipient Jose Saramago’s house while in Lanzarote which you can read here. Today’s post is all about one of my hero’s -Spanish artist and architect Cesar Manrique. I’ve promised myself I’ll make this post short. My family has told me I have a tendency to go on a bit where Cesar is concerned and have pointed out not everyone is interested.
But they should be…
I’m not going to write about Cesar’s early life, his glamorous spell living in New York, instead, focusing on when he returned to his birthplace of Lanzarote in 1966. Cesar adored the island, adored nature, and was years ahead of his time with recycling and caring for the environment, fearing that tourism could potentially destroy the place he loved so much. He lobbied tirelessly for the government to adopt his plans which would ensure the island thrived but remained unspoiled, retaining its own unique landscape.
Cesar was responsible for planning regulations inflicting height regulations on hotels, ensuring telephone cables were buried underground, that roads were built through the remnants of volcanic eruptions, rather than clearing them away, blending the roads in with the landscape. He proposed resorts were kept to three areas of the island and that all houses were whitewashed with shutters and doors painted blue for properties facing towards the sea and green for those facing inland keeping the island picturesque and aesthetically pleasing. He persuaded the government to take a long-term view to preserve the island rather than focusing on short term financial gain, banning advertising billboards. During a film I watched about him, he relayed a story of how when adverts did appear he would go and dig them up with his mini digger during the night.
This is why everyone should be interested – be kind and work in harmony with nature were principles he lived by, principles we should ALL live by. “I believe that we are witnessing a historical moment where the huge danger to the environment is so evident that we must conceive a new responsibility with respect to the future.”
As well as his tell-tale pieces of art around the island, many of Lanzarote’s tourist attractions have a magical feel and were carefully and considerately created by him utilising lava bubbles and caves forged by previous volcanic eruptions. Cesar really embodied ‘Be the change you want to see’ and it’s a shame his work was cut short after his death in a car accident. He really inspires me that with passion and vision, kindness and compassion, we can all make a difference if we work together and never give up.
We visited Cesar Manrique’s foundation which was also his home full of chill out areas in lava bubbles, a pool and a dance floor with a tree growing through the lounge floor, the house he lived in until his death, his cactus garden. His first project Jameos del Agua which was birthed from a collapsed lava tube housing a pool in which thousands of tiny albino crabs live (it’s a great place to have a coffee and chill). The Mirador del Rio which has the most stunning views across the island.
You can find out more about Cesar Manrique here.
Lanzarote is one of my most favourite places on earth, coming second only to my dining table when all my family are seated around it. Partly because it’s home to one of my hero’s – Cesar Manrique – but more about him in a forthcoming blog; today’s post is all about literary Nobel Peace Prize recipient Jose Saramago (1922-2010) whose house I visited last week.
There’s something very special about standing in the places other authors once stood. Jose’s home is beautiful. A world away from the cramped space where I write my thrillers.
If you’re not familiar with him, Jose Saramago was a Portuguese writer, once described by Harold Bloom as ‘the most gifted novelist in the world’. Over two million copies of his novels have been sold and he’s been translated into twenty-five languages. When the Portugues government ordered the removal of his novel ‘The Gospel According to Jesus Christ’ from the Aristeion Prize shortlist – claiming the work was religiously offensive – Jose moved to Lanzarote where he resided until his death.
Inspiringly, although Jose supported himself through journalism, his career as an author didn’t take off until the publication of his fourth book when he was sixty. I wasn’t published until I was in my 40’s and I thought I’d changed career quite late in life. There’s hope for all aspiring writers out there!
This is his study inside of the house, although it isn’t where he wrote his books.
And not surprising with this fabulous view to distract him…
But there was a fine collection of pens.
And of course, a Nobel Peace Prize displayed on the wall.
A super tidy desk, the legs of which were covered in teeth marks where his dogs had chewed them.
The whole house had a cosy, lived in feel. The lounge was just as he’d left it. His current reads on the coffee table. The walls covered with paintings based on his books which made me long for a painting based on one of my books!
My heart melted when I learned all the clocks in the house were stopped at four o’clock because that was the time he met his wife.
Jose’s library was jaw-droppingly impressive. There are 15,000 books in his collection. He insisted that people were extremely careful with books stating there were pieces of the author on each and every page. His wife insisted that female authors had their own section as she very strongly felt women deserved better than for their novels to stand side by side with male authors many of whom didn’t respect women or their work.
This is where Jose wrote.
Apparently, every morning he would rearrange his desk and reread what he’d written the day before. Then he’d begin to write, never stopping to edit.
After lunch every day he’d swim in his indoor pool.
Before spending each afternoon sitting in his favourite garden chair, gazing out to sea, meditating and thinking of his wip. Jose formed the words in his head he would write the following day and rarely had to redraft the way that most writers **me** seem to. There was a big lesson here that to spend a few hours writing without distraction is far more productive than a day spent at a desk hopping on and off social media as I do.
After the tour we were given a cup of Portuguese coffee to take into the garden, although Jose’s cat had claimed the best chair.
You can find out more about Jose Saramago and how to visit his home here.
Last month I coped with my son leaving home by sending him off to uni with 3 important things (you can read that post here). I spent the first few days of his absence drifting sadly around the house. It was when I lit a candle in his bedroom I knew I had to get out and do something productive so I dashed to Asda to stock up on chocolate. When I arrived I reminded myself how well I was doing on my sugar free diet, how much better I felt and so instead of a bar of dairy milk I headed into the in-store travel agent and bought a holiday to Lanzarote instead (and it was fun explaining that impromptu purchase to my husband).
Days later myself, my youngest son and my husband were on a beach. It was an odd sensation, trying to relax. It was the first time, in a long time, I hadn’t had a looming deadline from my publisher. I deliberately hadn’t packed my laptop, instead I’d taken a stack of books and I intended to read *whispers* for pleasure.
Historically I used to read a couple of novels a week but in the last few years I’ve been so busy writing my own books there’s been little time for reading. On the occasions I’ve managed to snatch precious minutes from my day, I’ve ended up reading one of the huge pile of proofs in my study awaiting quotes which all tend to be psychological thrillers as that’s the genre I write in. On my break, I was determined to read something different, and I did.
The One With Hidden Depths – First on my list was Graham Norton’s cozy crime debut ‘Holding.’ I’ve long been a huge Graham Norton fan. I pre-ordered this the second it was announced but I’ve been putting off reading it because… if I’m honest, because I thought it might not be very good. Sorry Graham.
I dove into the pages expecting them to be peppered with brash humour, outrageous jokes, which I wasn’t sure how would translate into a novel, but what I found was a gentle story set in rural Ireland, sensitively written by someone who knew his characters inside out. The gradual unfurling is slow but I like that in a story. There’s a depth to the characterisation you rarely find in debuts. So much so I googled whether Graham had a ghost writer, apparently he didn’t. There’s a vulnerability surrounding the small community featured in this story, that doesn’t come from the characters alone. I’ve since bought Graham’s second novel ‘A Keeper’ and I won’t leave it too long before I read it.
The Chilling One – Next up was ‘The Taking of Annie Thorne’ by C.J. Tudor. As a teenager I was a real horror buff and a big fan of Stephen King but as I’ve got older I’ve… I’ve grown into a bit of a wuss I suppose and so I tend to shy away from the genre. That said when Steven King recommends a writer you sit up and listen and that, along with the fabulous cover, swayed me into putting on my big girl pants and diving in. Goodness. This book is creepy. Right from the start a sense of unease settled over me, despite my brilliant backdrop of blue skies and golden sands. This story is so atmospheric with a refreshingly unique voice. I do love it when I start off loathing a character but the writer gradually draws me in until I’m rooting for them. I’m glad I didn’t read this alone at night, but I’m so very glad I read it.
The Weepy One – A writer friend of mine recommended ‘Bitter’ by Francesca Jakobi to me and told me I’d love it, and she was right. I find it utterly fascinating when a story is based on some semblance of truth and this one, based on Francesca’s grandmother, drew me in completely. It could have been hard to picture a time when divorce was scandalous and single parent families an oddity but thanks to the evocative writing I was right there with the beautifully crafted characters, living out their obsessions with them. This book is thoughtful, heartbreaking and utterly compelling. I am desperate to know what happened after the final pages.
Aside from reading, it was a fabulous holiday which kicked off to a thrilling start when we popped into WH Smith’s at the airport and found ‘The Surrogate‘ on the shelves. Once we’d arrived, we hired a car but didn’t explore this gorgeous island nearly enough which is a good reason to return (although we did stumble across a fabulous bookshop who stocked ‘The Sister‘ – hurrah!) What we did do in-between reading was wade into the sea to feed the flurry of fish with cooked vegetables we saved from lunch.
We also went sea trekking for the first time. Walking around the ocean bed while hooked up to air was an odd but amazing experience and a privilege to be up close to so many sea creatures in their natural habitat.
Evenings found us at a beach bar, sipping cocktails and watching the sun set.
It was while gazing out to sea I had an idea for a romantic novel I felt ridiculously excited about but within 48 hours of being back in the UK I’d (fictionally) killed someone. I feel relaxed, refreshed and ready to put the finishing touches to my fifth psychological thriller, and as for writing romance? Maybe one day…