Black and mythological txapelas: the great triumph of the Basque and Navarrese thriller, a decade later

There are still those who ask Redondo if that formula still seems effective to her, but you only have to look at the sales figures and the many audiovisual adaptations of her work. They also ask her about her location: “It's in the north of the country where, at least for now, I find myself writing stories. Some want to know if I'll explore more genres, but I don't need to because I'm already incredibly flexible. My novel isn't noir, but rather a hybrid. There are dark parts, but also fantastical, romantic, adventure, and historical aspects,” says the author, who at the end of 2024 published Las que no duermen NASH (Destino / Columna), which features a new protagonist, forensic psychologist Nash , and a real event as a backdrop: the murder of Juana Josefa Goñi Sagardía and six of her seven children after the military coup of 1936. Women—both the writers and those who star in the plots—remain the strongest.

Most writers who live in this geographical area easily alternate between Navarre and the Basque Country. “It's not so strange. After all, we have a common culture, language, and traditions,” explains Laura Azcona (Pamplona, ​​1985). She herself is a clear example. In 2024, she debuted at Plaza & Janés with El pacto de las colonias (The Pact of the Colonies) , which centers on a terrible summer camp on the Basque coast of Hondarribia; and, a year later, she published El pacto invisible (The Invisible Pact ), in which a young man is found dead in a lagoon on the outskirts of Viana, in Navarre. Both stories feature witchcraft and legends. “When I handed in the manuscript, I prepared myself for slammed doors. To my surprise, I sent it on a Friday and by Monday I already had a call. That same week, I was contacted by a second publisher. Both told me they were looking for these types of stories,” Azcona recalls.

Ibon Martín (San Sebastián, 1976) also knows a thing or two about folklore. For years, he's been one of the most prolific authors of travel guides to the Basque Country, and has thus heard all kinds of myths. The landscapes he's traveled through serve as the setting for his stories. "I try hard to escape the tourist spots," he explains over the phone. In his latest book, Alma negra (Plaza & Janés), he travels to the Montes de Hierro, where the body of Teresa Echegaray, the woman who tried to reopen the mine, is found. An event that awakens a fear of dormant legends among the inhabitants of the mining area. His editor, Gonzalo Albert, describes his writings as anthropological thrillers , since "he does a profound job of understanding why people in a certain place behave in a certain way."

Martín likes the term "Basque novel" for his works. "The Basque Country and Navarre have things in common with the Nordic countries. It rains a lot, and there's often fog and isolated areas that invite things to happen in fiction." Although, he admits: "Our thriller is much more psychological and less bloody." All of these are ingredients that encourage the leap into audiovisuals, which not only adapts some of the best-known titles, such as Redondo's Baztán trilogy, but, given the literary success and general public demand, also creates its own. This is the case of filmmaker Koldo Almandoz and his Hondar ahoak (Mouths of Sand) , a miniseries that revolves around the disappearance of a shipowner from the port of Ondarroa. The acclaim was such that he reveals there will be a sequel, Zeru Ahoak (Mouths of Heaven) . “It's difficult to innovate in the genre, but there are authors who manage to tell a story from a different perspective. And that's what I set out to do, but on screen. Not to emphasize clichés.”

Then there are the existing literary thrillers that, upon making the leap to the small screen, are changing their initial location to the Basque Country, such as the production The Last Night at Tremor , starring Javier Rey, Ana Polvorosa, and Guillermo Toledo. It's a loose inspiration based on the novel The Last Night at Tremore Beach (Ediciones B), in which Mikel Santiago (Portugalete, 1975) places a composer trying to regain his inspiration in a house on the coast of Ireland. "Netflix decided to change it to northern Spain because it's clear there's a pull for all things local," reveals the writer, who earlier this year released When Night Comes (Ediciones B), a collection of three short novels written between 2005 and 2010 that explores themes of suspense, horror, and mystery.

Months earlier, following the success of the Illumbe series, which made him hugely popular and has already sold more than 500,000 copies, Santiago published El hijo olvidado (The Forgotten Son ) with the same imprint, starring Aitor Orizaola, Ori , an Ertzaintza agent who learns that his nephew Denis has been accused of murder. “Just like what happened with the Norwegians and the Swedes, a label has been created that benefits us, because when someone finishes reading one of our books, the bookseller can recommend someone else,” he reflects. He adds another common trait that some of his works have: the family, “with conflicts always taken to the extreme.”

Another well-known name is Eva García Sáenz de Urturi (Vitoria, 1972), who with El silencio de la ciudad blanca (Planeta) began the adventures of the Ertzaintza police officer Unai López, better known as Kraken, who also made the leap to film in 2019. “Some of my books fall into the category of Basque noir , and I don't think that's bad, because it's true that they are crime novels and some take place in Vitoria, although I'm not given to labels, but I understand that they can be helpful.” However, she won the Planeta Prize in 2020 with Aquitania , which has nothing to do with this theme, and she has set her books in other places on several occasions.

Then there is the case of Nagore Suárez (Madrid, 1994), who defines herself as “a Madrid native with a Navarrese heart”, and who shows that there are also writers from outside who dare to discover those places where she spent her summers as a child with her grandparents. She caught the attention of editors with the mystery stories she began publishing on the social network X. From there, she made the leap to paper with the Ribera Navarra trilogy – La música de los huesos , El ritual de los muertos , and El final de la fiesta – , all published by Ediciones B, and she recently published with Destino Lo que habita en los sueños , an intrigue between San Sebastián in the 1950s and Florence in the 1930s.

Most authors strive to be precise, which is why they often ask questions from police forces. Suárez, Redondo, and Azcona, for example, have had long conversations with Mikel Santamaría, communications director of the Foral Police. “Over the last ten years, I've seen a number of authors start contacting us to learn about the procedures. That didn't happen before, but we're happy to do it, because we like to ensure the functions of the force are well-explained, including things as basic as the correct way to hold a weapon. I never thought that in places like Turkey they would read stories about our police force.”

Both the Foral Police and other bodies, as well as the aforementioned authors, as well as others, such as Noelia Lorenzo Pino or Javier Díez Carmona, are protagonists of festivals that have seen an exponential increase in the number of attendees in recent years, such as Vitoria Negrasteiz or Pamplona Negra, the latter led by Susana Rodríguez Lezaun, journalist and author of the Inspector Marcela Pieldelobo trilogy (Harper Collins), which takes place in Pamplona and where gender violence is very present. "Noir novels and the stories cooked up here have a strong social condemnation. I think it's the perfect time to emphasize that there is no northern noir bubble. We've been living a golden moment for over a decade and we're here to stay."