In Delparaíso everything seems perfect and idyllic. Until Juan del Val opens the doors. Come in and take a look around.
Delparaíso, they say, is one of the safest developments in Europe. The 70 homes there comprise an unbreachable fortress, but the twenty-four-hour security that watches over them cannot keep fear, love, sorrow, desire, and death from spreading inside it. The lives of the inhabitants of Delparaíso weave together with the same ease as those of any neighborhood, but they aren’t all as anodyne as they seem. Behind every door, a different story is concealed. And when these stories cross, the result is like a bomb thrown in the middle of the apparent tranquility.
Juan del Val’s gaze is incisive, cold, fiercely rooted in the brutal present, and it penetrates unstoppably in the minds of all his characters. The result is a choral novel in which the cards appear to be on the table but the future remains, just as in real life, dependent on the decisions we take for what are often the most fleeting reasons.
Delparaíso is an absorbing book, a multifaceted mirror in which the human condition is reflected in its grand diversity. Because all happy families look alike, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.