Michel Encinosa Fú
by Sampsonia Way / September 9, 2013 / No comments
Michel Encinosa Fú (La Habana, 1974)
Fiction writer. Editor.
He holds a B.S. degree in English Language and Literature. He has published Sol negro (Extramuros, 2001), Niños de neón (Letras Cubanas, 2001), Veredas (Extramuros, 2006), Dioses de neón (Letras Cubanas, 2006), Dopamina, sans amour (Abril, 2008) y Enemigo sin voz (Abril, 2008), El Cadillac rojo y la gran mentira (Loynaz, 2009), Casi la verdad (Matanzas, 2009), Todos tenemos un mal día (Loynaz, 2009) and Vivir y morir sin ángeles (Unión, 2009). He has been included in more than twenty anthologies in Cuba as well as in Italy, Spain, Brazil, Argentina, Mexico, and the United States.
Michel is one of the best writers of the science-fiction and fantasy epic genres in Cuba. But he is also a storyteller who explores realism to its very violent limits. In his narratives there are no longer remnants of friendship and love, the last faith is now infidelity and desire as a drive for emptiness, for crime, in rarefied scenarios where the only moral is death. However, there is always a tender character trapped in the depths of his own heart, even when that character ignores this, like an angelic touch of hopelessness.
Interview by Ahmel Echevarría
“Writing is trail of gradual, successive illumination. To go on means keeping the spark alive. The urge to speak, to tell. Do not get stuck in one topic, one style, one catharsis. To learn how to circumvent archetypes, to learn that archetypes are essential. Discover the essence and necessity of each story. To guess what people are looking when they read. Do not expect to be read by all. We never read everything, neither we enjoy everything in a book. To insist in humility while obsessively feeding our ego. Not to despise neuroses, traumas, schizoid seizures: they are so useful to a writer as air itself. Also loneliness, company, an abandonment, a finding. Rain, sea, the streets at three in the morning, all of those endless divinities. To contemplate at length that tiny stone in your shoe, and ask: from where did it got hooked? I don´t know, to live on and not stopping even when sometimes you are limping, short of breath, listless. Everything is saved when someone appears and says to you: Pal, how soon your next book?, meaning: I need it. Everything, whatever you may write in this life and in your next thousand reincarnations, is worth-while just that instant.” Read More.
