If Ana and André hadn't wanted children and she hadn't gotten pregnant, if they hadn't moved to a new apartment and hadn't had Madalena and Miguel as neighbors, Mariana Salomão Carrara (São Paulo, 1986) wouldn't have found a novelist who could read the shocking novel in a novelist. The keen eye of the publishing house Les Hores and the skill of the book's translator, Pere Comellas, have made it possible for readers to discover If it weren't for the syllables of Saturday, a story that begins with the cracked head of André, Ana's husband, in the entrance to the apartment building where they lived. The man was the collateral victim of a neighbor's suicide: as André left the apartment, Miguel fell on him.