Chronicles of Sajará: family memory and Spanish history in three novels

Chronicles of Sakhará brings together three novels —The Acropolis of the Marshes, Days of wall and black bread y back to the point— that follow the Colliure family through several decades of Spanish history. Read in order, they form a family saga; Considered separately, they propose three different sections on the formation of a society, the Civil War and the postwar period.

Sajará: a fictitious space with recognizable coordinates

The action takes place in Sajará, an imaginary city near the Mediterranean and the Albufera. This displacement from literal geography allows the place to function as more than just a stage. The landscape of rice fields, swamps, hydraulic works and small properties organizes economic and family relationships; At the same time, the city concentrates conflicts that refer to the contemporary history of Spain.

The procedure does not consist of disguising a real municipality under another name. Sajará is constructed as an autonomous narrative territory, capable of condensing collective experiences without being reduced to a historical document. The author himself presents this space as mythical and linked to Hispanic consciousness in his text. «The acropolis of the swamps».

The Acropolis of the Marshes: origin and fracture of a family

The first installment establishes the world of the Colliure and the social changes that went through it before the Civil War. The family offers an especially useful narrative scale: political processes appear not as an enumeration of events, but as forces that alter work, property, loyalties, and authority within the household.

The dramatic core is the generational confrontation between the head of the family and his firstborn. Around this rupture, a society in transformation unfolds, marked by the labor movement, inequalities and the distance between inherited values ​​and modern aspirations. Whoever wishes to know the formulation of the project by the author can consult his summary of the novel.

Available editions: see The Acropolis of the Marshes in Bubok, consult the digital edition on Smashwords o see all digital bookstores available on Books2Read.

Days of wall and black bread: the war from the rear

The second novel takes the saga to the summer of 1936 and to the Valencian republican rearguard. Its specific interest lies in the local perspective: the war is not observed only from the fronts or the decisions of the great leaders, but from a community where the daily order breaks down and political violence reorganizes previous ties.

Family continuity prevents the conflict from appearing as an isolated episode. The characters come to him with grievances, affections, interests and convictions already formed. In this way, the novel can attend to both the ideological dimension and the material experience of fear, scarcity, and retaliation. The author’s blog preserves a presentation of the work and its context.

Available editions: see Days of wall and black bread in Bubok, consult the digital edition on Smashwords, buy the ebook at Apple Books o check it out on Kobo.

back to the point: survival, memory and postwar

The third installment deals with the time after the Republican defeat. José Colliure returns to the taxi after rejecting the employment substitutes that the new order offers him. The vehicle and the provincial city provide a mobile observatory: they allow us to cross social strata, listen to contradictory versions and show how repression and accommodation penetrate ordinary life.

The postwar period does not appear, therefore, as a simple epilogue. It is a phase with its own moral, work and political rules. The idealism of the protagonist faces the need to survive, and memory becomes at the same time a burden, defense and narrative material. Alba Longa already dedicated a specific analysis to this installment: «Back to the point, a novel of memory, dissidence and form».

Available editions: see back to the point in Bubok, consult the digital edition on Smashwords o buy the ebook at Apple Books.

How to read the trilogy

The publication order is also the clearest to follow the evolution of the characters: The Acropolis of the Marshes, Days of wall and black bread y back to the point. However, each volume delimits a period and has its own central conflict. Deep unity comes from the combination of family memory and historical transformation.

To explore other works from the same catalogue, you can visit the Loft Library in Payhip, he author profile on Bubok or his catalog on Smashwords.

Continue the saga: Back to the point

For those who wish to advance to the post-war period and follow the consequences of the family conflicts narrated in the previous volumes, back to the point offers the third installment of Chronicles of Sakhará. Its editorial file allows you to consult bibliographic data and the bookstores that distribute the printed edition.

Editorial files and ISBN

Alba Longa now brings together the permanent bibliographic records of the three printed editions with their own ISBN: The Acropolis of the Marshes — ISBN 9788409723966, Days of wall and black bread — ISBN 9788409734443 y back to the point — ISBN 9788409855391. For an overview of the author, see also the file of José Alemany Puig.

Automatic translation of the original article. The language of this page does not determine the language of the book: purchase links lead to the editions indicated, including editions in their original language.

Back to the point, a novel of memory, dissidence and form

   In a literary panorama saturated with easily consumed stories, back to the point, by José Alemany Puig, emerges as a demanding, lucid and deeply moral work. Third volume of the cycle Chronicles of Sakhará, this novel confirms that it is still possible to narrate collective memory from formal intelligence and ethical intensity. With a style that refers to the great explorers of narrative language—Rafael Chirbes, Juan Benet or Almudena Grandes—, Alemany constructs a fiction where the truth is not proclaimed: it is investigated.

   The novel alternates three narrative registers: the handwritten notebooks of Colliure's father and grandfather, and an external voice that, from the right distance, organizes the fragments. This polyphonic game does not seek structural boasts, but rather to test the different versions of the story. In back to the point, each testimony is confronted with another, and each private memory is measured against the collective one. Thus, truth becomes a process, not a dogma.

   The plot is set in a small provincial town, where José Colliure returns to earn a living as a taxi driver after rejecting the favors of the Franco regime. In local cafes and casinos, his public opposition brings him face to face with old friends, suspicion, and, ultimately, isolation. Their resistance is neither heroic nor pamphleteering: it is civil, everyday, articulated in gestures and silences. Much of the strength of the novel lies in that moral outlook without rhetoric.

   A plot of intrigue is superimposed on this realistic basis. The murder of Rosendo Palacios and the investigations of Sergeant Calatayud introduce a crime novel dimension that functions as an ethical engine: each crime is a question about responsibility. The investigation continually displaces the hypotheses—political revenge or amorous passion? —and, with this, exposes the mechanisms of manipulated truth. What seems like a “solved case” is revealed to be a calculated staging by Santiago Palau, son of the former Republican mayor who was executed: a man who, in his desire for justice, ends up building a theater of deception.

   In the final fragment, the reader witnesses the outcome of this narrative machinery: the bodies, the letters, the reports, the rains and the silences are linked together with almost forensic precision. When the truth finally emerges, it is too late. Clarity comes with the cessation of the rain, under a starry sky that more than illuminates, sentences.

   Nothing in Alemany's writing is incidental. His prose, dense but breathable, is made of long, meticulous sentences that combine elegance with accuracy. The spaces—the “La Linterna” casino, the marsh, the flooded streets—act as witnesses of consciousness. The persistent rain, which soaks the story from beginning to end, is a metaphor for a Spain that has not yet dried its wounds. The novel demonstrates that style can be a form of ethics: writing accurately is also resisting lies.

   back to the point It is also a novel of crossed inheritances. Three generations – grandfather, father and son – narrate, remember and correct the past. This choral structure transforms the family saga into a mirror of the country's history: each voice rewrites the previous one, and in that rereading the possibility of a shared truth is articulated. Memory, here, is not an accumulation of memories, but an act of responsibility.

   Far from nostalgic reconstructions or speeches of revenge, Alemany proposes a literature that observes and reasons. The presence of diaries, letters and confessions is not an aesthetic resource, but a declaration of principles: if society is built on silences, literature must be the place where those silences are broken. As Paul Ricœur points out, remembering is also interpreting; and this novel moves right in that territory where memory becomes knowledge.

   In times of polarization and easy stories, back to the point He defends that memory continues to be a space of intelligence. Rereading the postwar period does not imply opening old wounds, but rather learning to look at them without fear. Alemany Puig turns narrative into a moral laboratory: a place where the truth is sought with the rigor of the historian, the sensitivity of the poet and the patience of the judge.

   In short, back to the point It not only continues a literary saga; vindicates a tradition: that of writers who understand that narrating is not indoctrinating, but thinking. And in that commitment to memory as a form of lucidity, José Alemany Puig writes one of the most solid and necessary novels on the current Spanish scene.

https://books2read.com/ap/nlkMyA/JA-Puig

Where to find Back to the point

The printed edition of back to the point has its own ISBN 9788409855391 and international distribution through Ingram. The permanent editorial profile of Alba Longa It brings together bibliographic data and links of international availability. You can also consult the file of José Alemany Puig and the joint presentation of Chronicles of Sakhará.

Automatic translation of the original article. The language of this page does not determine the language of the book: purchase links lead to the editions indicated, including editions in their original language.

Between Empire and Eternity: Theological and Political Intrigues in a Carolingian Abbey

Historical fiction at its highest level does not merely reconstruct the past; it interrogates it. The novel under consideration, set in the year 797, situates itself at the very cusp of Charlemagne’s imperial coronation by Pope Leo III, a moment that would redefine the political and religious cartography of medieval Europe. The Frankish monarch, whose campaigns had secured the western borders of Christendom, is here portrayed not only as the guarantor of the Church’s temporal power but as the symbolic center of an emergent Christian universality. Yet the novel’s stage is not Aachen, nor Rome, but a secluded German abbey, a locus where the tensions between empire, theology, and clandestine ambition converge.

At the heart of the drama lies a fabulous object—vestige of an older wisdom, perhaps a relic, perhaps an artifact—which tradition ascribes a capacity to bestow limitless power. Its custody, entrusted to the enigmatic Ramiro, a Spanish exile reputed to possess arcane knowledge, recalls the early medieval intertwining of Christian piety with lingering echoes of esoteric traditions. Ramiro’s death unleashes a clandestine war within the abbey: imperial agents, foreign spies, and ecclesiastical factions engage in a struggle that mirrors, in miniature, the broader geopolitical fractures of the age.

The protagonist, Bernardo, a young novice of noble lineage, provides the narrative’s lens. Through his eyes, the reader discovers a monastic universe at once sacred and perilous. The abbey is not merely a house of prayer; it is a microcosm of Carolingian society, where intellectual labor in the scriptorium coexists with brutal contests for dominance. The presence of the missi dominici, imperial envoys charged with overseeing the King’s law, evokes the Carolingian program of administrative centralization, while theological disputes among the monks reproduce the wider debates that would shape Christian orthodoxy: the filioque controversy, the Trinitarian mystery, and the perennial tension between visible institutions and invisible truths.

Stylistically, the novel achieves a rare synthesis. Its descriptive passages, reminiscent of medieval chronicles yet enriched with modern psychological insight, conjure landscapes in which nature reflects human turmoil: November forests glazed with frost, cloisters reverberating with whispered conspiracies, snow-covered courtyards where innocence is hunted by intrigue. The prose oscillates between lyric evocation—where children perceive the world with a flayed sensitivity—and scholastic disputation, where questions of the soul’s immortality, divine justice, and the possibility of magic become urgent rather than abstract.

One of the work’s most striking dimensions is its meditation on power. The fatal destiny of all those who attempt to seize the hidden relic without grasping its key suggests that true authority cannot be reduced to mere possession. Here the novel echoes the Augustinian vision of earthly power as precarious unless rooted in justice (De civitate Dei, XIX). Likewise, the monastic debates on the Trinity and the soul highlight the precarious balance between orthodoxy and heresy in a world where theological error could prove as dangerous as political treason.

What emerges, ultimately, is a narrative that transcends the boundaries of the historical thriller. The abbey becomes a stage upon which the eternal dialectic between faith and ambition, knowledge and secrecy, justice and domination, is played out. Bernardo, in deciphering the enigma that consumes others, represents not only youthful innocence but the possibility of wisdom purified of greed. The novel thus situates itself within a venerable lineage—from Augustine’s reflections to Umberto Eco’s Il nome della rosa—in which the cloistered world of monks serves as the crucible for universal questions.

In this sense, the book is more than a tale of espionage in a medieval monastery. It is a meditation on the nature of power, the fragility of truth in a world of factions, and the enduring human temptation to grasp the infinite through finite means. To read it is to be reminded that the Carolingian world, for all its distance from us, was haunted by dilemmas that remain strikingly contemporary.

books2read.com/u/mgddvD