Beloved — Empar Moliner

Now I have a scientific confirmation of this volatile state I’ve unwittingly gotten trapped in over the past year without having paid attention. The drop in oestrogens combined with lactose intolerance and waning near vision, make me look at the world through dragonfly wings. That allows me to see, with perfect clarity, that my husband will fall in love with this other woman.

Remei, the main character of Beloved, is a prestigious illustrator in her fifties who considers herself an attractive, happily married mother. Yet one evening, sitting in the back seat of the family car, she clearly predicts that her younger husband, a principal violinist in an orchestra, will fall in love with the second violinist, the woman sitting beside him, as they head to their home to rehearse. Neither Remei’s husband nor the young woman have realised this yet. But Remei has. This devastating certainty leads Remei, a determined woman who since childhood has had to fight to survive, to a harsh realization of what it is to grow old inside. She must suddenly accept the vulnerability of marital love, the addictive dependence of motherhood, and the expiration date on her artistic career.

We experience the progressive emotional and physiological transformation of a mature woman who fights against age, a woman that when she goes jogging, has a constant inner monologue in which she welcomes us into her intimate and confessable space. We go from laughter to the sharpness that lays bare the pathetic side of life, to the point of leaving us feeling like stone statues, facing a story that unfolds with coldness and determination when it comes to recreating the anguish generated by the few alternatives that the protagonist has left.