La Feria del Libro 2025

For anyone who wonders how many books I got to sign...

I’ve been lucky enough to have some of my books translated, into German, Czech, and possibly Russian (long story). But it’s Spanish where they’ve done best. On one level this is hardly surprising. We moved to Spain three years ago, my wife Maria is Spanish and she works full time now on translating and marketing the books. But even so I am quite surprised at the level of success. As I write these words La Cala (the Spanish version of my book The Cove) is sitting at number 2 in the whole Amazon.es store, and a couple of weekends ago I was invited to go to Madrid to sign copies of Los niños de la casa del lago (The Lake House Children) for our publisher Harper Collins Ibérica. So at the risk of jinxing everything, I thought I’d take the opportunity to say something about how that went, and also perhaps generally try and explain what the hell is going on…

Being mostly an ignorant Brit, I’d never even heard of Madrid’s Feria del Libro. In fact I’m even less internationally aware than many of my countrymen, in not really getting the basics of Madrid right – such as the fact it’s very hot. For many years Maria would take me there to stay with her family at Christmas, so I’d come to think of it as a very cold city, albeit with pretty lights and a nice holiday atmosphere. While not wrong, this misses the point that it’s also a major European capital with all the associated cultural events you’d expect. It also ignores that for half the year it’s basically an open-air pizza oven.

On that note I should also point out that, while we do live in Spain, we don’t actually live in Spain. At least, we don’t live in the sort of place people think about when they think of Spain. We’re up on the north coast, in Cantabria, and cut off from the rest of the country by a range of mountains which lock-in moody Atlantic weather and shut out the balmy Mediterranean climate for which the rest of the country is known.

So it was that, on the day of my book signing, we rose early, put on our summer-jumpers, and splashed through the puddles to the motorway. Up in the mountains we had to slow for the thick fog, which only began to clear as we descended down the other side. And as we went down, the reading on the dashboard temperature gauge began to climb. Then kept climbing until we reached the yellowed outskirts of Madrid.

Here I have to say a big thank you to Harper Collins, who had organised a room in a flash hotel, close to the city centre. And to whoever decided to put a pool on the roof of this hotel, which I flopped in for two hours while Maria briefed me all about the famous Feria Del Libro. How did I feel, she asked me, about getting to attend such a prestigious event? I didn’t like to say, but the truth is I was deeply nervous.

I’ve not done many book signings, for several reasons. Firstly, I question why people would want me to deface the nice book they’ve just spent lots of money on – isn’t that just graffiti? Secondly (and rather backing up point one) I haven’t been asked much. Thirdly I wouldn’t know what to write if they did ask: I have this idea that – as a writer – I ought to be able to come up with something witty and brilliant to write. And unfortunately I can’t, and certainly not while the recipient is standing there with an expectant look on their faces.

These problems are all confounded when you add in a language that I’m trying to learn, but whose idiotic grammar makes this all-but impossible. Fourth (or is this fifth, I’ve lost count?) I have a deep-rooted fear that, if I do agree to a signing, nobody will turn up. And for everyone involved (and me more than anyone) it’ll all just be horribly embarrassing.

The only reason I said yes this time was because this was for our latest book in Spain Los niños de la casa del lago, which has been all about firsts. It’s the first book I’ve ‘properly’ published in Spain (by which I mean not self-published on Amazon). It’s the first book anywhere that’s actually been stocked in bookstores. So why not make it the first book that I do an actual signing for?

Answer: Because no one will bloody well turn up.

Los Niños, not quite flying off the shelf

But anyway. As the appointed hour drew near Maria dragged me from the pool and ordered me into a shirt. And I don’t want to belittle the bravery of those first world war soldiers who had to go ‘over the top’, but I think that best describes the atmosphere. At least it had cooled down a bit by then, it was only 37 degrees.

La Feria is held in Madrid’s Retiro Park, which I’d only seen in winter, when it looks a bit sad and brown. Actually in the summer it’s quite nice, and when we walked in I saw the first of the ‘casetas’ (little houses) lined up in a neat row. Each of them is like a garden shed, but with a table of books out front, like a rather nice jumble sale. There was hardly anyone about, so I perked up. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad? If no one turned up to anything, then my own lack of fans wouldn’t be noticed.

But then we kept walking, around a corner, and I saw the epic scale of the real event. It’s enormous. There were – I’m not kidding – over two miles of casetas, some with huge queues where famous authors or Spanish celebrities were doing signings. And all around throngs of Spanish book-people, none of them (I assumed) here to see me.

This was, I should say, also the first time I would get to meet the Harper Collins people in person, everything in the run up to them publishing my book was done by video call or email (and mostly handled by Maria). So when, forty minutes later, we finally found the right caseta, I was shown to my signing-seat out front, with a certain amount of new-people awkwardness on both sides. In front of me was a sign with my name on, and the author picture I still use of how I looked on a good day ten years ago, along with a reassuringly-small stack of my book. At least they weren’t expecting me to sign more than a couple. Then my foot smacked painfully into a box hidden under the table, then another, both filled with more copies of Los Niños. Oh.

There were three people waiting to get their copy signed when I began. These were not quite stooges, but Maria might have arranged for them to come, and at least one of them might have been a member of her family, I couldn’t say. I could feel the Harper Collins people’s eyes though, counting them, as I signed their books, trying to remember the phrases drilled into me earlier, also by Maria. Then they left, and the crowd began to flow past, leaving a polite gap for where a queue might form at some point but wasn’t now – perhaps when a different Harper Collins author turned up?

Next to my books on the table was a small stack of Minecraft books. I’ve got a bit into Minecraft in recent years as I have children of that age, and I was just idly thinking about this when someone came up to my stall! He was about ten, with a plaster on his forearm. He picked up a Minecraft book, looked through it, then asked me something in Spanish. I have no idea what. From behind me the Harper Collins big boss explained that I was actually an author, and didn’t know about Minecraft – I know this because she helpfully translated it into English for me afterwards. But the boy had quite a short memory – probably all the gaming he’d done had rotted his brain – so he soon picked up a second Minecraft book, and asked me another question. Then the Harper Collins lady told him to piss off – I know this because my son has provided me with all the swear words they teach him in school (the children, not the teachers, at least not usually the teachers.)

Anyway, Minecraft boy (1) eventually left (not buying anything) and I sat there smiling uncomfortably as the unimpressed crowd flowed past. But I needn’t have feared, because soon I met Minecraft boy (2), and then Minecraft boys (3) (4) and (5). After half-an-hour of sitting there I had signed the three books that Maria had set up, and nearly managed to sell a colouring book on Minecraft mobs, except I think the boy said he could download it for free online (I’ll have to check with my son). All this while the increasingly-stiff Harper Collins bosses stood behind me, occasionally asking if I’d like a drink of water, presumably fearful that I would dehydrate from all my efforts.

But then (and I’m not sure how) the cavalry arrived. I wouldn’t say it was a constant flow, and at no point was there an actual queue – but one-after-another actual readers of my books did come up, tugging a copy of Los Niños from their bags, or even buying a copy from my pile – reader I had to dip into one of the back-up boxes! And yes, I defaced them all, doing my little bit for the butchery of the beautiful Spanish language as I did so. In total I think I managed to sign about thirty copies, and while that’s probably the stuff of nightmares for Harper Collins, for me it was kind of a dream come true.

So that’s my not-terribly-dramatic story about la Feria del Libro de Madrid. Except to say that, as the Minecraft boys were browsing I did snap some sneaky photos while pretending to check my important emails. But it’s probably only fair to pixilate their faces, which I’ve done with Minecraft heads.

Thanks for reading!

Gregg

P.S. If you were one of the lovely people who did come along to get your book signed I do want to say a huge thank you. Not just for alleviating my embarrassment, I actually really enjoyed the day, so thank you very much! And thanks to Harper Collins too, it was fun!

P.P.S I haven’t forgotten the box project thing for Deep Blue Lies (and now I have a cover!) More on this soon, including the first winners…