With a sweet and inviting voice, Luísa Sobral welcomed us. The reason for our conversation was her happiness, mirrored in her ‘Maria,’ the inspiration behind her debut fiction book, ‘Nem Todas as Árvores Morrem de Pé.’
The novel, intertwining prose and poetry, tells the story of Emmi, who falls deeply in love with Markus, a man from East Berlin amidst the heated climate of the Cold War.
Through its narrative, the book explores timeless themes: love and heartbreak, freedom and its absence, altruism, selfishness, and nature.
Having reached its fifth edition in just a month, Luísa candidly admitted she still doesn’t fully embrace her new role as a writer.
In her discussion with Notícias ao Minuto, she also expressed concern over one of today’s pressing issues—the screen dependence affecting children and teenagers.
Was writing a novel an idea you had considered for a long time?
I’ve been an avid reader, and perhaps because of my love for reading, I hold prose writing in high respect. It crossed my mind occasionally, but it wasn’t a set goal. Then, I was inspired by a news story to write a song—’Maria Feliz.’ I remember seeing her image and thinking: ‘I wish this could become more than just a song.’ So, I considered writing a play.
It started as a play, but I quickly realized it was evolving into a novel.
That is quite intriguing.
The idea arose because I love performing theater and wanted to return to it, but nobody invited me [laughs]. My mother suggested, ‘If no one calls you to act, why don’t you write a play and perform it yourself?’ Initially, it was a play, but I soon realized it was turning into a novel.
To answer the previous question, I hadn’t planned on writing a novel; it happened unintentionally, almost by accident.
The book is set in significant historical times, such as the Nazi regime and the fall of the Berlin Wall. Were these periods selected because of the protagonist or due to your own interests?
It was entirely because of the protagonist. I knew the real person had lived in East Germany. I found it inspiring to delve into a dense and fascinating world. These characters were born as a response to the time they existed in.
I imagine the research for such a setting was demanding.
Yes, it was. I remember initially talking to a publisher, who reassured me, ‘Don’t worry too much about historical facts; we can say it’s fiction eventually.’ I found it peculiar because I am quite meticulous about my work. To me, fiction should feel real to the reader.
The historical era was somewhat limiting, but I realized that it should inspire rather than constrain me. That mindset shift made things easier.
Writing violent scenes was challenging; I must inhabit them while writing, and thankfully, having never personally experienced such violence, it was distressing. What was the hardest part to write? The book discusses heavy topics like assault and domestic violence.
Writing violent scenes was challenging; I must inhabit them while writing, and thankfully, having never personally experienced such violence, it was distressing.
One particularly tough scene was when the main character [alert: spoiler] chooses to leave her true love. She prompted this decision, which was emotionally hard. A person making such a decision for the other’s happiness is the most altruistic way to live love.
(…) While writing the book, I frequently dreamt about my past experiences, often revisiting situations related to what I was writing.Writers often infuse their works with personal experiences, intentionally or not. Did the moments you describe make you revisit past passions or challenging times?
I haven’t shared this with anyone, but as I was writing, I often dreamt about personal past experiences tied to the book’s themes.
This phenomenon was interesting because it never happens with songwriting. In songwriting, the process from start to finish is brief. In contrast, the characters in the novel lived with me for a year. I joked that they would ‘sleep’ with me—constantly pondering their next actions. It was a profoundly immersive experience.
Times change, but we do not. Whether clinging to a phone or a quill and parchment, we continue to feel the same emotions.Can passion indeed be blind? In your book, one character disregards numerous warning signs.
The last classic novel I recall reading was ‘The Brothers Karamazov.’ While I don’t compare my book to a classic, the enduring appeal of such works is rooted in their exploration of human emotions. Love, envy, betrayal—these concepts remain constant because human nature is immutable. Times change, but we do not. Whether clinging to a phone or a quill and parchment, we continue to feel the same emotions.
I prefer when a writer doesn’t tell me ‘this one is good’ or ‘this one is bad.’ I appreciate it when they cause me to question my own moral compass.Conversely, cruelty also endures. A character justifies cruel actions, albeit irrationally, saying ‘I do this because I love you so much.’
This is typical of domestic violence: ‘Sorry, but you’re to blame.’ Regrettably, the issue persists, and victim-blaming remains a reality. ‘I love you, but you’re not being the woman you’re supposed to be.’
My characters always possess two sides, which is why the cruel character is glimpsed through love letters from women. I believe he loved, but also felt a need for power and admiration.
As a reader, I prefer when a writer doesn’t tell me ‘this one is good’ or ‘this one is bad.’ I appreciate it when they cause me to question my own moral compass. Why do I sympathize with this seemingly bad character? I love when that happens.
You manage to challenge the ideal of flawless motherhood in your book.
That’s what the title signifies to me: ‘Nem Todas as Árvores Morrem de Pé.’
Your book addresses another timely issue—refugees. Did you introduce this theme because it’s relevant today?
No, I never deliberate on current trends. I don’t believe in inserting topical issues into a book for the sake of it. The audience shouldn’t influence the creation of a book or song; it should be personal until later shared. I wrote a song on women’s rights in Afghanistan because I needed to process the matter, not because I felt others should. The relevancy of topics like freedom and repression, alongside the rise of far-right ideologies, underscores the necessity to reflect on past freedoms—or lack thereof—to avoid repeating historical errors.
Do you find writing to be a therapeutic way to handle certain issues?
Completely. In songwriting, it’s a way to resolve and process my thoughts and emotions. In novel writing, the characters drive the narrative, not the readers.
We’re using our children as marketing tools for ‘likes.’ The consequences are unknown; they aren’t adults yet.Does the rise of far-right ideologies and lack of empathy worry you regarding the current world and future generations?
Two things deeply concern me: lack of freedom and empathy for others.
Also alarming is how children are becoming isolated. It saddens me to see teenagers glued to phones in cafés, disengaging from face-to-face conversations. Worryingly, will my children grow up unaware of a glance conveying a secret passion? Will they converse beyond screens?
It deeply disturbs me. Are we raising unempathetic, non-observant individuals? It makes me nearly emotional…
I am similarly troubled by how some famous people expose their children publicly. I’m against it, as we don’t yet understand the impact of this exposure on those children because they haven’t grown up yet. We’ve used our children as marketing tools for ‘likes.’ The consequences are unknown; they aren’t adults yet.
When my children say, ‘I’m bored,’ I respond, ‘Great! That’s a perfect starting point.’ They’ll eventually find something to do because kids are more creative than adults.Kids struggle to develop a tolerance for boredom, don’t they?
I often mention how art stems from boredom. In a podcast about writing, David Fonseca said, ‘At my grandparents’ house, only a guitar was available.’ Many authors said they began playing because ‘there was nothing else to do.’
When my children say, ‘I’m bored,’ I respond, ‘Great! That’s a perfect starting point.’ They’ll eventually find something to do because kids are more creative than adults.
As a parent, is it challenging to resist peer pressure from other parents concerning technology usage?
It’s less common in my context since my oldest is eight. But, for instance, I told him he’d get a phone at 18—though that’s not true—so he genuinely believes it [laughs].
I dislike spending significant time examining others’ lives and nothing constructive comes from it.Social media has its negatives but also encourages reading interest, right?
As with all things, it depends on usage. Excess is never good. I restrict my social media time to 30 minutes daily due to its addictive nature. I’ve found myself scrolling absentmindedly. I dislike spending significant time examining others’ lives and nothing constructive comes from it.
You’ve authored children’s books. Is writing for adults more challenging?
I’m not sure… Both are demanding since kids quickly lose focus. The challenge lies in leaving a lasting, thought-provoking message rather than just an entertaining story.
Are you considering a new novel?
I have a book well underway, having started it before my current release. It’ll be interesting to write post-readers feedback on ‘Nem Todas as Árvores Morrem de Pé.’ But I’m currently focused on this book and not yet mentally ready for another.
I feared playing at being a writer. I love reading so much that I wanted to contribute fairly and not produce something poor, ugly, or uninteresting.Were you surprised by the reactions to your book?
I feared playing at being a writer. I love reading so much that I wanted to contribute fairly and not produce something poor, ugly, or uninteresting.
In music, I’m much more confident. People may or may not like it, but I know I can make music. With writing, that assurance was absent. Having Maria do Rosário Pedreira as my book mentor was significant; I’m a fan and deeply respect her work as an outstanding editor.
This helped boost my confidence slightly, but doubts persisted. Fifty positive comments could come in, yet one negative remark resonates deeply. Criticism touches us when it aligns with personal fears. A comment citing ‘clichés’ echoes my fear.
I must adapt. Among writers, I still feel like an imposter, not belonging, but it’s about finding my place through practice. I also appreciate that discomfort, as it signifies trying something new, evolving.
Printing a fifth edition within a month was unexpected, yet I’m experiencing this with immense joy, recognizing it as a team effort. I’m living something beyond my dreams.
