Nada

About the show

Taking Andrea’s story to the stage means sharing with the public the story of all those women who dared to challenge the rules in post-war Spain under the yoke of the dictatorship. In the 1940s, a young Andrea chooses to study and prioritise her career. She opts to work and earn her own money. She snubs conventions and commits herself to find an independent life. A life in which she doesn’t depend on a man to live like she wants. A life in which she takes her own decisions. And in that search, another woman will be very important: her great friend Ena.

Laforet shies away from the conventions of sentimental literature, surprising the whole Spanish literary scene with a story of friendship between two girls. Laforet doesn’t focus on a traditional love story, as was expected of a young author at that time. She goes much further and captivates us without the need for courtship and amorous regrets. That’s what made Andrea the first “strange girl” in our literature. This innovative feature of the novel was a revolutionary event in the literary scene of the 40s, inspiring authors like Carmen Martín Gaite and Ana María Matute, whose female characters will bear much resemblance with Andrea

Director’s Note

It’s exciting to imagine the theatrical adaptation of Carmen Laforet’s first great novel on the stage. When we read Nada in secondary school, at the age of sixteen or seventeen, we were quickly hooked by the intelligence and sensibility of Andrea, the protagonist, who spoke to us like a good friend, like an accomplice who wants to tell us about her new discoveries and reflections of what she is finding in that Barcelona of the 40s, in the post-war period with the Second World War as a backdrop. Now we read it again and it not only grabs us, it seduces and captivates us. Each chapter leaves a mark on us and makes us feel tremendous admiration for its author. Nada is a dark and disturbing novel, not at all pleasant; but at the same time, it is a novel that oozes passion and courage, inviting us never to lose hope. Its dry and sharp style, and its detailed descriptions, tell us of the existential dread that permeated everything in those post-war years, and in that somewhat nostalgic and forlorn soul of Andrea. But at the same time, we find powerful glimpses of the fantasy and desire that remain with the visionary spirit of the young protagonist. These two conflicting forces are very appealing to us, scenically speaking.

The mettle and courage that shine through in Carmen Laforet’s writing in Nada invite us to work right from there to take on the challenge of tackling this adaptation and staging of her work.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Beatriz Jaén