Interview with Antonio Heras

Fetishism, pornography, self-publishing, prejudices ― and sports! They are some of the issues that Antonio Heras (Jaén, 1979) talks about with regard to his gay erotic collection Un blanco fácil. Please be our nosy guest.

SPANISH GAY FICTION: You have opted for self-publishing. What advantages and disadvantages do you find in this way of publishing?

ANTONIO HERAS: I was very reluctant at first. I wanted to become a writer the conventional way: supported by a publishing company. And they did for some years; Armado de impaciencia (“Armed with Impatience”),[1] my first book, was published in 2014 by a traditional publishing company. And in 2016 a company specialized in e-books launched my novel Tus palabras sin sentido (“Your Meaningless Words”).[2] However, when these contracts were over, I decided to launch these two books on my own. On one side, to try my luck; on the other, to enjoy more control and information over the product contents, ways to reach the reader, etc. I liked the adventure, though in the last few months I am up to move my books from Amazon to Lektu,[3] a platform that seems to be friendlier to both users and authors. In short, my experiences in both self-publishing and traditional publishing do not differ much: the sales were way low on both occasions.

SGF: How was the creative process of Un blanco fácil?

AH: I uploaded the title story of the collection as an experiment. People bought and I got driven. “What if I add another story?” Thus, I recovered a couple of old stories, and people kept buying. Then I said to myself: “What if I add another story for every purchase?” And that is what I did ― though there was a moment when more than twenty stories had to be included, so I stopped. Anyway, it helped me assemble the current collection ― which finally consists of nine stories (some produced just for the book) ― and I really loved the experience. My idea was that the original purchasers could update their eBook, but I am afraid that it has been impossible for some people, and Amazon has not offered me the right solution. In any case, if these readers ask me, I will send the complete book. Besides, the printed book, that some friends of mine have been demanding, will be for sale in some weeks.

SGF: Nowadays accessing to visual material with pornographic content is easy and usual, and most users do it for the sole purpose of getting horny. Does erotic fiction just fulfill the same function?

AH: Generally speaking, I think it plays a different role. Or at least it has a different sense of timing. If someone wants to jerk off, they just need to search for videos or pictures online: there is a world of massive pornography at their disposal. Conversely, literature needs something else from the reader; it requires more attention, and it is not that straightforward. It can work for getting excited, of course, but in a different level, I guess; perhaps more up in your mind rather than down in your underwear. Quality in literature is hard to achieve, no matter the genre; as an author, I have learned not to cry with anger and impotence every time I read my writings again.

SGF: There is a common denominator in all the stories: gay eroticism. However, each story belongs to a distinctive genre, as a means to avoid reiteration at any cost.

AH: That is right; in my stories I wanted to avoid a succession of clichés and topical scenes: they meet, they fuck, the end / they meet, they fuck, the end. . .As an author, I had a wonderful time mixing genres on the common base of eroticism; I wish the same to the reader.

SGF: Is there any author or piece of erotic fiction that you esteem as an example in your writing?

AH: I do not usually like reading erotic literature; at least, not the mainstream. However, I remember Almudena Grandes’s The Ages of Lulu[4] ― a brilliant novel ― and also the works of Marguerite Duras, Henry Miller. . .I do not know whether they can be considered as erotic fiction writers, after all. Perhaps they can. Oh, wait! I almost forget the immense Marquis de Sade (whose painful depravation is beyond words), Dennis Cooper, my favorite (living) author, and Jean Genet, my favorite (dead) author.

SGF: Does gay erotic fiction have a wide audience?

AH: My works do not sell well. If I had to live off my book sales, I would have died from starvation years ago.

SGF: There is a common leitmotif throughout Un blanco fácil: the sportsman and his equipment. How important is fetishism in creating erotic fiction? What is your personal attitude towards fetishism?

AH: Fetishism can be a very useful tool for erotic fiction, indeed. Whatever it seems, I am not quite kinky; I choose the person rather than the object.

SGF: In the title story you pun on the real names of famous footballers. According to you, why has no elite footballer come out publicly at this stage in the game?

AH: It is a shame that no foremost male footballer has opened out about a sexual orientation different from heterosexuality in our days. The blame may fall on sponsors and football clubs mainly, but also some mossbacked supporters (at least, the prevalent voices on the media). Anyway, this is an individual choice; the courage to show your self should be stimulating enough. Elite sportsmen from many other disciplines came out DECADES ago, serving as big examples for generations of fans of all ages. In a society in which football is such an important and popular and profitable business, a top-level footballer daring to make the first move would be a turning point. I know no case in real life other than a famous event that happened years ago: there was a player ready to come out on the cover of Zero magazine,[5] but they said that his club eventually prevented him from doing it.

SGF: And the reason why you selected the names for your characters from the list of Real Madrid CF players is. . .

AH: The reason was truly banal: they were just the ones that I felt physically attracted to the most; at least, the late 90s/early 00s squads. Besides, I found funny the double meaning in blanco fácil.[6] The story was originally written for a website in which users romanticized about the hottest footballers of the hour, and they even produced (mostly pornographic) stories about meetings in locker rooms, showers, etc.; to sum up, jerk-off material. A couple of years ago, while searching for other stuff on my computer, I accidentally found the file and occurred to upload it online.

I do not like laughing at anyone by branding them as gay; for me, that is a homophobic, counter-productive attitude. The theory that homophobes are repressed homos underlies too latent homophobia, and it really does not help the LGBT cause at all.

SGF: The story “Homo Sci-Fi,” in which the female character is flicking the bean while peeping into two guys having sex, reminds me of a trend in American erotic fiction: women writing M/M fiction for other women mainly. Why has not this movement repeated in our country?

AH: I honestly have no idea. I think that it is an interesting kind of fiction; it reminds me of the yaoi and bishōnen concepts: erotic and romantic Japanese comics featuring gay boys whose main audience is young girls.

SGF: Regarding the story “El cuarto de la plancha,” imagination helps break the barrier between the labels homo and hetero. Do you believe that human beings are actually bisexual?

AH: I feel that personality and closeness are key facts in sexual attraction; in that sense, there may be a moment when that presumably self-imposed barrier dividing your likes and dislikes might fade away.

SGF: In “Con-tacto” you depict a common place in erotic fiction: getting fondled by a stranger at the subway. Have you ever experienced it by yourself?

AH: Yes, it happened to me once, but I spare you my reaction.

SGF: Concerning the story “Hermanos,” have you ever known of any case of brother-brother incest personally?

AH: No. If I knew, I would not see it disgusting; I would try to get to know them ― though I would feel a kind of awkward, or curious about their living through it, no doubt. I think that this issue is still quite taboo, at least in our society.

SGF: In “El colgante,” when the male protagonist has sex with his friend, you say: “It is his pureness what he likes the most; there is nothing artificial around him. Nothing surrounding him, squeezing his body; there are no watches or necklaces, no earrings or makeups” ― Can it be considered the very author’s declaration of principles?

AH: No, there is usually no declaration of principles in my writings; not that clear, at least ― there must be principles, for sure, though accidentally ―. Anyway, it is the character’s thoughts what is shown in that quote. He seems to have a too narrow view of the circumstances around him; it may be a sexist, or at least patriarchal, view. Connecting falseness to the image of a woman is something absurd and old-fashioned: from ancient times, almost from original sin.

SGF: You work as a member of the protection staff in a museum. If any given day you had to face a situation like the one narrated in “Artistas terroristas,” what would be your reaction?

AH: People who must handle visitors daily in their workplace know from experience that surrealist situations are commonplace, and you meet people who could inspire a short story or a short film, at least. In “Artistas terroristas” I tried to invoke a recurring fear: visitors trying to damage the exhibited works in a fit of madness ― though they do it in such a strange way in my story. In that case, my reaction would be like anyone else’s, I guess: I would get scared and use my walkie talkie to call the security guards.

SGF: The portrait of a sexy man with a small penis in a non-negative, non-problematic way seems to be a taboo in erotic fiction.

AH: Hot men with small penises, with no six-packs, of a certain age. . .There are so many taboos and prejudices, and we must break them all down; not only in erotic fiction (not only in general literature, in fact) but also in real life, in the way we interact with the others.

SGF: Tell us about your upcoming projects.

AH: I have finished a vampire novel full of blood and glitter, now being tested by beta readers. If everything goes as planned, it will be launched after summer. If published by a company or myself (in that case, it would be on Lektu), that remains to be determined. Besides, during this quarantine period I am back to another unfinished novel; it deals with criminal investigation and investigative journalism on serial murders in a small town where corruption is king. I hope that the draft will be completed this month or the next one. Also during this confinement I have finalized the script for a web series, and the filming could start this year. I keep managing my two blogs as well: Armado de impaciencia and Gayumbos Ezine. And I will continue to upload unpublished material on Lektu.

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[1] This short story collection won publishing company Luhu’s 1^st queer literature contest award.

[2] Romance novel set in the 19^th century London.

[3] New online marketplace for selling digital (mainly e-books) and physical products with the aim of becoming a meeting point for the rights of authors, publishers, and readers.

[4] Original title: Las edades de Lulú, 1989. Grandes’s first published novel, astonishingly successful back then, is a highly-praised erotic narration about a woman’s sexual awakening. A homonymous film based on the book was released the next year.

[5] Spanish LGBT-themed monthly publication, extremely popular during the first decade of 2000s, which served as a suitable platform for coming out nationwide. The cover boys? From show business celebrities to priests and soldiers; quite a stink in certain circles.

[6] The pun has already been explained in the post reviewing the book (footnote 1).

This Sporting Lust

On Antonio Heras’s Un blanco fácil[1]

Cover design by
Héctor Valdivia

Here in spanishgayfiction.blogspot.com we believe in the old saying that if life gives you lemons, make lemonade; just put an end to foul mood all along this quarantine period with this recently-published collection: nine short stories in kaleidoscopic tones displaying a wide range of gay erotic amusement. Are you ready?

In the first story, “Un blanco fácil,” we meet Tidiane, a French footballer of a leading team from the Spanish league first division, who usually suffers sexual touching when tackled by other players during both training sessions and matches. In one of those matches Tidiane trips up a player of the rival team, and this guy vows revenge. When the game is over, Tidiane is pushed into a dark room; he is afraid that he is going to be forcibly assaulted ― nothing could be further from the truth: the rival makes the most of Tidiane, who has a great time in turn. This very first homosexual experience rouses our superhot hero’s deepest desires; he needs to repeat with another guy. . .why not a sexy teammate?[2]

“El cuarto de la plancha” (“The Laundry Room”) narrates a constantly interrupted vague dialogue between two 15-year-old boys; they use to shut themselves in the room which the title reads to jerk each other off. One of them finds the situation awkward; moreover, they are cousins. . .The other boy advises him to think of his dream girl in the process ― May it eventually work?

“Hermanos” (“Brothers”) shows how two apparently antithetical siblings behave by themselves when parents are away for the weekend and friends pass up a gathering for a wild house party. Heaven knows what this chance for intimacy may come―

In “El colgante” (“The Pendant”) eroticism and horror are all mixed up due to a supernatural event: a woman runs into a strange pendant lying on the street, and immediately she feels a quirky fascination; she does not even imagine that this moment will make her life all upside down, eventually leading her boyfriend into the loving arms of the most unexpected bedmate ― By contrast, the woman will face a much more different fate.

“Con-tacto,”[3] the shortest story, tells an anecdote with a comical result: an office worker rides the subway after a hard working day; he feels a hand on his right thigh, and he initially thinks it belongs to a pickpocket. Wait! Is that another hand? ― To sum up, let us say that this man is eager to go back home and make use of his own hands. . .while taking a steamy, satisfying shower.

“El tenista yugoslavo” (“The Yugoslavian Tennis Player”) is Mirko Kerkovich, who is said to be really nasty. Ricardo, a gay physical therapist for elite players unceasingly repressing his lust for his patients, has got the short straw: today he must render his services to that brute. More closely, Ricardo will realize that barking dogs never bite; the session will result in a really exciting party, at which Kerkovich’s Dunlop racket will be the king!

“Cruising Interruptus” has the same atmosphere as a good mystery novel. A properly concealed huge drainage pipe is used as a discreet cruising point for many anonymous lovers in a park. However, a series of bloody, atrocious murders committed in the place will wholly empty this locus amœnus, since every man fears for becoming the next emasculated victim. Months go by and the police still do not catch the killer. . .Nevertheless, a hot Moroccan called Moha is determined to look into by himself; his scheme cannot be riskier: Moha will use himself as bait ― Whatever the means so that new homo generations can enjoy a peaceful spot for cruising.

The title of the next story is explicit enough: “Homo Sci-Fi.” A starship commanded by a woman travels to a space station on a scientific-business mission, the author says. The crew: two men. One of the guys, the scientist, alters the anaphrodisiac pills B-13 so that the other one, a 19-year-old boy, can feel sexual appetite again; they need to take advantage of a few days left before a long-lasting hibernation!

The last story in the book, “Artistas terroristas” (“Terrorist Artists”), deals with a weird wave of terrorist attacks on museums worldwide. Singular is the word for the offense: they jerk off and shoot the seminal fluid against mankind’s biggest works of art ― even the religious-themed ones! ―; to make things worse, the corrosive sperm destroys the pieces hopelessly. Is there any possible way to stop this chaos?

Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it great? Isn’t it swell? Isn’t it fun when a single book includes a miscellany of genres? Horror, romance, mystery, satire, fantasy, queer. . .The great achievement in Antonio Heras’s incisive style is injecting an outstanding humor into his detail-oriented erotic fiction; Un blanco fácil is the puissant combination of a kicky exhibition of sexual activities ― sport fetishism is predominant throughout the book ― and a delightful illustration of skillful writing. In short, an invitation to relax and enjoy yourself.

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[1] The title is a pun based on the plot of the title story. Blanco means target as well as white (like the color of the protagonist’s team uniform; i.e., a synecdoche for the player himself); fácil signifies easy: like the English term, it can express both not difficult and promiscuous. Thus, the title can be translated as An Easy Target, and also as A Promiscuous Player.

[2] The whole story is a funny joke grounded in the use of names that thinly disguise the real players from Real Madrid CF’s galactic era ― as it was popularly known ― in this fictional República de Madrid squad: apart from Tidiane (a.k.a. Titou), we can find Rigoberto, Oker (the goalkeeper) and a Portuguese player called Filipe.

[3] The author inserts the hyphen in the original term contacto (“contact”) to make a play on words: con tacto can be translated as courteously, making clear the character’s agreeable impression when being fondled.

Love Socially

On Javi Cuho & Andrea Jen’s Las horas perdidas (“The Lost Hours”)

Let’s get back a literary genre that here in spanishgayfiction.blogspot.com we just have a weakness for: the comic book. Here you have a yaoi-style collection (published in 2010) of four delightful stories—the index calls them hours—around one of our favorite topics. . .Do you feel it in your fingers?, do you feel it in your toes? Yes! It is L-O-V-E. [Sigh.]

After a short fragment from Federico García Lorca’s downbeat, evocative poem “Meditación bajo la lluvia” (“Meditation in the Rain”) we dive into “Balada para mi muerte” (“Ballad for My Death”), which is the perturbing name of the first story—Hour I. Here, we find ourselves in Germany in the early 1940s. Colton, a rough alcoholic SS officer wearing an eyepatch, is smitten with Geert, a captivating cross-dressed singer in a shitty clandestine cabaret. Colton has wife and children, but Geert falls on deaf ears: he is always willing to share his bed with this horny specimen—

Trouble in paradise: François, a member of the cabaret staff, is also in love with Geert. Like Taylor Swift in “Blank Space,” François gets drunk in jealousy, though his method to get rid of his rival is far away from the Pennsylvanian blonde’s swanky style. One night that Colton is sleeping with Geert in the cabaret, François reports the local to the authorities. The damaging devotee warns Geert and tries to persuade him to leave Colton and run away with him. Nonetheless, Geert stays with his stud when the police enter the stage on cue. What the ambiguous artist might have probably not expected was Colton’s response in this Catch 22 situation: the alpha male hands his wimpy victim over to the police. C’est la vie!

Geert gets sentenced to death because of his unnatural demeanor and, ironically enough, it will be Colton the officer to lead the firing squad. Geert says goodbye to the world by singing “Lili Marleen.”[1] This catchy, lovelorn tune was the song of the moment, and their song too. After the shooting, Colton is getting more monomaniacal by the minute, drinking alcohol while the song is unstoppably echoing in his mind. . .

Miracles happen when you believe—or rather when you are smashed—, and Geert appears in the shape of the perfect angel. His comeback from the beyond aims to declare the obvious thing: he was so passionately attached to Colton, morally superior to him (and the others), that leaves the one-eyed Aryan in the most wretched state in this vale of tears.

Geert was freedom in its purest form. Alas, he finally had to pay dearly for it in an envious, intolerant world. At the end of the story, Colton’s pathetic pursuit to his vanishing lover and his cruel dead end in a rain of feathers entail the icing on this pitiful cake.

Please, do not let this tale snow you over. The next story—Hour II: “Dos+1” (“Two+1”)—is a funny one. Meet Óscar and César in a placid Saturday night in today’s Barcelona. This hot couple is wearing their sexiest thongs in their apartment while waiting for their date. Yes, you have read it right! Following the advice that they heard on TV, a threesome may be a suggestive way to spice up their sexual life, and the chosen third one is a guy that they met on a dating website whose only picture is showing—his cute butt!

It must be said that they start off on the wrong foot: Óscar looks a bit hesitant at first. However, when César tries to phone the anonymous guest to cancel the date, Óscar flatly opposes. Then, César sets out a role-playing game in order to relax and get aroused in the meantime. It lies in imagining a situation in which Óscar is working in the office and welcomes an unexpected provocative visitor played by his frisky partner. His identity? César suggests Dani, the new boy in Óscar’s office that he is talking about lately. All of a sudden, his companion loses his temper: this boy has recently become a pain in Óscar’s ass. (He also does not seem to approve Dani’s drug abuse). Wrong choice, indeed. A quick change of strategy leads César to pull a big black dildo out of the couch cushion. Yet again, Óscar is not excited at all, and he is about to throw in the towel when the doorbell rings. . .

In the wink of an eye, Óscar hides in the bathroom while César opens the door. In César’s view, the website boy happens to be a delicious blond guy in scarce tight clothes. For Óscar, he turns to be the most unpredicted dread. When César goes for Óscar into his hiding place, the latter confesses that the guy is the so called Dani!! What can they do? Óscar does not want to have sex with a coworker, but Dani is sooooo sexy tonight. Once again, César has an idea: he persuades Dani to get his eyes blindfolded as a game. This way, Dani cannot recognize Óscar—though his voice sounds familiar to him—and the three of them can therefore have a great time smoothly.

Dani starts the party by displaying his XL dick. Bad move: Óscar and César argue about who is going to be the first one to ride it. Dani is getting bored. He stands up. . .and falls abruptly on the table. What happens?, ask Óscar and César in their most petrified mode. A doctor from the emergency room will give them the answer: Dani has had an overdose (too many exciting pills for one night), but he is out of danger now. And this visit to the hospital brings an end to the sassy experiment.

You might be thinking that César and Óscar have already learnt the lesson, but right this moment Óscar recalls another tip from TV: fetishism. And the charming bearded doctor is in a stunningly white medical uniform. . .  

We leave all this vaudeville behind and get into Hour III. “La promesa” (“The Promise”) is probably the most beautiful story of the collection. Barcelona, December 25, 1970. At dawn, two long-haired gorgeous men have to say goodbye after spending all night long making love in a room of the inn “Flor de Loto” (“Lotus Flower”). The blond one is sorry about the nuisance of waiting for next year to meet his better half again. But a promise is a promise. . .

Time flies and we are now in 2010. In a retirement home the old folks are enjoying a Christmas Eve party while the new nurse, Héctor, is anxiously checking his cell phone every so often. His boss Gloria tells him off, but there is an explanation for this behavior: Héctor’s inflexible boyfriend Luis is giving him an ultimatum.

By the end of the night almost all the presents have been given. There is still one waiting under the tree, and the label reads: “Jaime.” Who is this Jaime? The young blond man that we met in that hotel room forty years ago, who has turned into a sulky, lonely resident. It will not be long before Héctor and Jaime become friends. Jaime tells him about the dark-haired, blue-eyed enigmatic man, Esteban, and how they became lovers when they were young and met every summer holidays. . .until they grew up.

Some time later they come across on one Christmas Eve. They are adults now, but the feeling is still the same. They promise to meet every Christmas Eve, and they will for the next 30 years. The first scene that we have mentioned above was the last time they met; in 1971 Esteban did not swing by the inn. No explanation. Due to the fact that they had to be cautious (Esteban had wife and children, and Spain in the early 1970s was not the most suitable place to come out—Well, I guess no place was good in those days), Jaime had no data about Esteban: no address, no phone number. But Jaime’s unyielding will compelled him to book in the inn every Christmas Eve and wait for Esteban in the same old room. It was useless; Esteban dropped in never.

Tonight Jaime is particularly uneasy. This will be the first time that he does not make his appearance in the inn: the doctor does not allow him to leave the institution. Never mind. Héctor, touched by his words, will help Jaime leave the place secretly and go to his yearned locus amoenus.

When they arrive, things are definitely different. “La Flor de Loto” closed down months ago and there is a show girls club instead. A helpless Jaime, angry with himself, is resolved to surrender and drops in the snow the only picture of Esteban that he has been keeping all these years. And this is the key moment when Fate lends one of Its mighty hands. Just when Jaime and Héctor are about to leave the place, an odd bearded cross-dressed prostitute who picked up the wrinkled picture identifies Esteban as the man who was there not long ago. The prostitute also tells them that he suggested him the train station inn to spend the night.

As quirky as it sounds, Jaime recovers his young years’ strength and runs like the devil towards the station. Héctor can’t hardly follow him! There, Jaime looks everywhere and yells Esteban ceaselessly. Of course, such behavior attracts the security guards’ attention, and when they are taking him out, a man calls Jaime. Our desperate friend instantly recognizes him as Esteban. However, the guy looks too young to be his missing lover. So weird—There is an explanation after all: this is not Esteban but his son Ígor. He promised his father before he died to find Jaime and give him a letter. OK, but why was Esteban absent since 1971? Sadly, he suffered an accident which left him disabled. My goodness!

Now that Jaime has solved all the mysteries around his soulmate, he has nothing to do in Barcelona and that gloomy institution. He is determined to buy a little house on the beach and live there for the rest of his life. This was their dream. Jaime talks Héctor into becoming his personal nurse. Héctor’s continuation in the nursing home is rather unlikely regarding his demeanor tonight, and Luis has just broken up by text, so. . .what would you do if you were in Héctor’s shoes? A bright Christmas sunrise seems to smile at the two of them.

Now the clock strikes Hour IV, and we reach the last story: “La solución final” (“The Final Solution”). Four friends (Miguel, Julián, Pablo and Rafa) are spending an evening on the beach. It seems a joyful event at first glance. Actually, they have met to commit suicide. Why? According to their speeches, they are not particularly happy with their own lives. The four of them have different physical imperfections which have made them socially rejected anyhow. They feel so bitter that even call one another by the cruel nicknames that people use for them. The plan is to drink all at once a poisonous potion provided by Rafa, who is a chemist, at the end of the day. However, Miguel is so itchy and disgusted that swallows it all of a sudden. Then, his friends are compelled to drink after him. As this is their last night alive, they are determined to have fun drinking vodka and swimming naked in the sea.

At daybreak we find the four bodies lying on the sand beach. All dead? Not yet, as they start to wake up. . .Not all of them: Julián does not open his eyes. Miguel starts panicking, and when Julián finally wakes up Miguel inevitably confesses his caring love for his friend. Besides, Pablo receives a phone call announcing that he has got a part. At last! Pablo was working as an accountant, but his real dream was becoming a professional actor. Still, he had always been turned down because of his obesity.

Things run smoothly this new morning. Does anyone remember the potion? The four pass out and fall on the sand right away. This is the end? No way! A little playful boy with angel wings wakes Julián up with the help of his water gun. Confused, Julián wonders whether he is in heaven now.

Rafa stands alone by the seashore. Julián asks him for an explanation. At the last minute Rafa saw things clearly, and the potion that he handed them was not poison. Rafa understood that they had one another after all, and their friendship was too important so as to kill themselves. Life is hard, but not so much with the love of your friends. And they happily hug one another and get into the sea on this shiny brand-new day: their new birthday.

We find a leitmotif in Las horas perdidas: Society plays an influential role in the four stories. Colton relied heavily on a political regime in which he took part and, after realizing it is making him unhappy, finally wanted to escape; Óscar and César decide to improve their sexual life by following a trend; Jaime and Esteban had to live their love story apart from society, and others’ opinions have conditioned the four friends so much that they have lived miserably so far. If there is a key message that the author Javi Cuho (Barcelona, 1981) seems to teach us, it is that the only way to Happyland is by releasing yourself from social impositions and trying to follow your own drives, beliefs and feelings. Look at that!

As this is a comic book, the touchy, sentimental texts by Cuho are wonderfully illustrated by Andrea Jen. Her sensibility, sense of humor and attention to detail are really praiseworthy. We would like to highlight her character design in some examples:

o   The sweet delicacy of Geert

o   César with his saucy leather belt necklace

o   The (extremely) romantic charm of Esteban, and

o   Jaime as an old-but-still-sexy man

Also her polished style gets Super Deformed sometimes, providing a really wisecracking atmosphere that reaches its peak in “Dos+1,” when depicting César and Óscar’s never-ending, almost schizophrenic changes of mind. Doubtlessly, Jen’s contribution to this comic makes the read a priceless experience.

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[1] One of the most famous songs of the 20^th century, and a total hymn for the World War II soldiers. Lale Andersen was the first lady to record it, but a huge amount of varied singers has made their versions since then (Connie Francis, Amanda Lear, Spanish singer Marta Sánchez, and a long et cetera), though we can firmly state that the most mesmerizing one was superb Marlene Dietrich’s.