Floatation Manual, the first novel by Jordi Marrón and winner of the 46th BBVA Sant Joan Prize, starts with a death to set a stalled life in motion. A woman returns to Portugal with her mother's ashes and, with them, to a summer of adolescence trapped in memory. Marrón avoids the more predictable path of solemn mourning and opts for humor, intrigue, and a protagonist who contemplates her own disaster from a distance.

A few years ago, I had a creative writing professor who, on the first day of class, solemnly declared, "I won't accept romance or fantasy novels in my course. You can change your project if you come with these ideas." This statement, unbecoming of someone who should be guiding the development of new voices, goes beyond a mere literary preference and encapsulates an old legacy: the idea that there are serious and lesser literatures. It's no coincidence that this disdain tends to fall from the corner of genres traditionally considered feminine: romance, fantasy, and autofiction; while thought, culturally associated with the masculine sphere, has been considered the emblem of serious literature.

From the late 90s to the early 2000s, Spanish television experienced an earthquake called Martian ChroniclesThe program, presented by Xavier Sardà, became one of the greatest exponents of trash television and generated its own universe made up of a bestiary that featured often surreal stories and montages. Among all those cathode creatures, Tamara stood out, a girl who presented herself as a singer and who made the song "The Nightmare Before Christmas" famous. I didn't change, of dubious musical quality. This whole world between fiction and reality is what the miniseries now recovers. Superstar, created by Nacho Vigalondo and available on Netflix since this Friday.