With a narrative spanning the Spanish Civil War and the Years of Lead in Brazil, writer Marden Marques Soares presents The Thread That Binds Everything, a novel that intertwines memory, resistance, and family bonds marked by loss, exile, and emotional inheritance. Following characters whose stories intersect across generations—between Barcelona, Fortaleza, and Brasília—the work reveals how collective traumas and affections persist as invisible threads connecting distinct times and lives.
You sensitively intertwine past and present when portraying the Spanish Civil War and the Years of Lead in Brazil. What was the emotional process like for you of revisiting these painful periods of history while transforming them into fiction?
I had the privilege— and also the burden—of experiencing distinct aspects of those turbulent times. I participated in the student movement, when debates about the country burned with the passion of youth, and, shortly thereafter, I served in the Army for four years, still under military rule. This dual experience gives me the audacity to consider myself a privileged observer, always attentive to the human element behind historical events. The Spanish Civil War emerged almost without warning in the narrative. Writers know: sometimes, ideas take the reins and drive history. I am a voracious reader and was undoubtedly influenced by readings on the subject, but regarding the overall context of the work, I was influenced above all by the current situation, where we sadly see the resurgence of radical antagonisms that divide brothers for trivial reasons.
Florence, Conchita, and Pedro Juan Casajús are characters traversed by exile, searches, and lost affections. How much of these stories were born from your own listening and observation of family legacies and silenced memories?
At the end of the book, I took care to include a chapter entitled Truth Be Told , where I mention historical sources that served as my basis and also I’ll explain some of my inspirations—like choosing the name Casajús and the story of the “Casa do Grito,” inspired by an unusual real-life situation here in Lago Norte, Brasília, where I live. The experiences I’ve accumulated over the years, combined with reading and everyday observation, were essential in developing the characters. Interestingly, many ideas emerged during rowing sessions on a machine I use in my backyard, as if the rhythmic movement awakened memories and narrative possibilities.
By addressing themes like repression, disappearances, and political persecution, you choose to give voice to characters who are often forgotten in official records. What responsibility do you feel in transforming these voices into literature?
The main intention was to address history in an accessible and sensitive manner, without falling into Manichaeism. I sought to illuminate the human aspect that exists on both sides of the conflicts—with their mistakes, anxieties, and contradictions. The greatest responsibility, I believe, lies with memory and collective consciousness: to remember, yes, but also to understand. And, above all, to reaffirm the non-negotiable value of democracy and humanism, so that past mistakes are not repeated.
The Black woman persecuted by the dictatorship brings a powerful layer of intersectionality to the narrative. How did you decide to include this perspective—and how did you seek to portray it with respect and depth?
This character emerged organically, as good stories demand. She’s the sister of another important character, and her presence was dictated by the logic of the plot. It wasn’t forced or planned, but once present, it required care and dedication from me to ensure her trajectory was treated with the respect and depth it deserved. The novel does have its creative freedom, but it also demands a quiet rigor so that every detail serves the narrative’s inner truth.
Your book explores cities like Barcelona, Fortaleza, and Brasília, and there’s a strong emotional geography that accompanies the characters’ journeys. What places in the world—and in your own life—did you feel resonate most strongly while writing?
Each of these cities left a unique mark on me. Brasília has been my home for over half a century; Fortaleza was where I got married and experienced important moments; and Barcelona captivated me with its vibrant art and resilient history. These places not only served as backdrops but also resonated with me as emotional memories that shaped the story. Manresa entered the plot for its historical significance and for Montserrat.
The metaphor of the “thread that connects everything” is both beautiful and unsettling. When did you realize this was the right title for the work, and how did this symbolic image stay with you throughout the narrative?
The title’s realization came in the final chapters, like a silent revelation. At a certain point, I realized that life, like narrative, is woven together by nearly invisible threads: experiences, affections, losses, and reunions. There is a thread, yes, that seems to indicate a possible meaning to existence. But I won’t reveal the secret here. You have to read the book to discover it.
After the recognition of “Parabolas da Borboleta,” this new book reaffirms your ability to combine story and sensitivity. What has changed in your writing—or in you—between one project and the next?
I was fortunate to be born into a home where wisdom was passed down with affection. Parables of the Butterfly , written in 2019, emerged almost as a playful tribute to the teachings I received from my parents, from whom I received, as my greatest inheritance, the encouragement to read. This new book, however, stems from a different motivation: it delves into broader social and historical conflicts, without losing the tenderness that I believe is essential to good literature. I feel that my writing has matured, perhaps more serene, but no less passionate.
Despite touching on deep social wounds, The Thread That Binds It All also celebrates hope and the strength of human bonds. What kind of hope do you hope to inspire in readers at the end of this book?
My first wish is simple: that the reader be enchanted by the reading, that they want to turn the page, to know what happens next. Then, I hope they naturally perceive the connections between the novel and real life. And that, in this interweaving of times, characters, and ideas, they can find, even if subtly, a thread of hope to move forward, both in the story and in their own lives.
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