Shadows Over the Spanish Sun

Research plays a large part in all my novels, and in Shadows Over the Spanish Sun—a love story set against the controversial and tragic backdrop of the Spanish Civil War—it was more important than ever to immerse myself in the history before attempting the first draft. I am not a historian and would never claim to be one, but I believe a novelist must understand the world they are writing about and develop a genuine feeling for its people, landscapes and history.

My research ranged from modern novels to the works of Paul Preston, one of the foremost historians of the Spanish Civil War. I was captivated once again by Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls and Laurie Lee’s A Moment of War, alongside many other books. But research is never confined to books alone. Photographs, newspaper cuttings, letters and personal accounts all became invaluable. These immediate and deeply human records brought the period vividly to life. It is impossible to look at some of the starkest photographs ever taken without being profoundly moved. Robert Capa’s much-debated image, The Falling Soldier, immediately comes to mind, but it was the extraordinary photographs of Gerda Taro that affected me most. My heroine, Valeria—later known as Val Saint—is a photojournalist during the Civil War, and I suspect she owes something, perhaps unconsciously, to Gerda’s courage and determination.

I also found inspiration in the poetry of Federico García Lorca, who was murdered by Nationalist militia on 19 August 1936.

Hot southern sands
Yearning for white camellias
Weeps arrow without target.

To me, those few lines capture the spirit of Spain—its beauty, its grief and its loss.

My own memories also found their way into the novel.

When I was fourteen, after my father suffered a serious riding accident that ended his career as a surgeon, my parents moved to Mallorca. What first seemed a devastating upheaval soon became one of the happiest chapters of my youth. Our farmhouse near Pollensa introduced me to a different Spain, where I wandered through olive groves with my father, visited markets with my mother and spent time with Ramon, our quiet, dignified gardener.