Laia Vilaseca: "Being a good person isn't the most important thing right now."
A writer and mother to seven-year-old Pol, she has become a leading author of mystery novels, which she typically sets in rural environments, with four novels under her belt. Her latest, 'The Howl of Water' (Rosa dels Vents), is a thriller set in the Llobregat Delta, where a family becomes entangled in a political plot that pressures them to cede land for the airport's expansion.
BarcelonaI have an emotional connection to the Llobregat Delta because I'm from El Prat. I lived there for over twenty years. The beach that's part of the delta has always been an oasis of peace for me. I used to go there to play as a child with my father, back when swimming was forbidden and there was never anyone there. During my teenage and early teens, I went there to reflect while watching the waves, with my partner or friends. It was a paradise because no one from outside knew about it. Now I go with my son.
What does her gaze teach you?
— Children have this fascination with their surroundings. "Look at those twisted pine trees!" You'd already noticed them, but only superficially. Then you stop to look at them more closely and think, "Yes, they really are fascinating and different." And since you have to explain, "Look, this is probably because of how the wind blows in from the sea," it makes you think about the causes of things. Even when you don't have the answers. A child makes things obvious that you sometimes only half-process too quickly.
Where are you in your motherhood journey?
— Right now is a really sweet time, because my son is much more independent than in previous years. He's grown up, and I can share things, activities, and conversations with him that I couldn't before. He also makes very interesting observations, or responds in ways that show he's integrated aspects I consider important into his life, and that fills me with joy.
But...
— But at the same time, we're at a point where I struggle to explain the way the world is, especially since I often don't have a satisfactory explanation myself. I mean, we've reached a point where it's difficult to maintain any general hope for humanity, and yet I refuse to lose it completely, I believe, above all, for his sake and for the example I want to set. Because this isn't the perspective from which I want to live my life, nor the one I want him to live it. I don't want to raise him to be resigned, nor do I want him to perceive or live in a hostile world, and I struggle to find the emotional balance to manage all of this.
Sometimes they seem to grow very fast, and other times not so much.
— He's at an age where I see him as very mature in many ways, but not so much in others, and this can be dangerous because you might assume he can understand or handle things he might not actually grasp. I suppose this is what worries me most right now: being prepared to talk about certain topics appropriately, without waiting until it's too late if they don't come up spontaneously.
What do you notice when you see Pol with your friends?
— I observe and discuss with other parents how reactions within group dynamics are beginning to change. It's like politics, so to speak, starting to find its place in group relationships. I suppose it's inevitable, but it worries me because children can sometimes be very cruel.
What criticism do you have of your generation of mothers and fathers?
— The prevailing sentiment today, which I often hear from other generations, is that "respectful parenting" is confused with not setting limits. But I don't agree that this necessarily relates to what we understand by respectful parenting. There have been many parents throughout history who were not respectful and were overly authoritarian, yet they failed to set limits when it was important to do so. I believe that limits can be set assertively, without coercion.
And why do we have this problem with limits?
— It seems that, as a society, we've lost some of our sense of decency. People seem more self-centered, more selfish. There's a devaluation of ethical values. Being a good person isn't the most important thing right now, and therefore, that sense of community, of respecting these values in a widespread way, is gone.
Tell me a memory that makes you laugh.
— When he was five, Pol asked us, "Mom and Dad, did dinosaurs exist when you were little?" I'd never felt so old. We've been getting better, though, because last year he asked, "Did cars exist when I was born?" It's a question I think is much more relevant.