Born in Bogotá, Francisco Montaña Ibáñez is one of Colombia’s bestselling authors for children and young people. His novels, poetry and short stories — recognized for their seriousness and depth — circulate in Colombia, Mexico, Venezuela, Ecuador, Canada, the United States and Argentina. In addition to being a writer, Francisco is a professor at the National University of Colombia.

His 2021 novel The Immortal Boy (Levine Querido, publisher) is his first to be translated into English (by Arely Guzman).
Francisco discovered his affinity with literature at the age of 16, when he won a scholarship to study at the Moscow International Film Institute. He has said the proximity to the cinema was the gateway to prose. He later graduated in philology and languages at the National University of Colombia.

His 2009 novel No Comas Renacuajos received a White Ravens nomination. La Muda was selected as Best Juvenile Novel by Book Bank in 2011 and as an IBBY-Colombia recommended book, has had a print run of more than 30,000 copies.

Other titles include Manzanas o pomas (poetry), Bajo el cerezo (novel), Cuentos de Susana (short stories); Los Tucanes No Hablan (novel), El Cocodrilo Amarillo en el Pantano Verde (illustrated book), El Mar y María (poetry), Las Primas del Primíparo Juan (novel) and El Amor por las Tinieblas (novel).

Francisco can be found at Goodreads

Q: Congratulations on the publication of your first English-language book, The Immortal Boy. Could you tell us a little bit about its inspiration?

A: Thank you so much. The book appeared in my life like a commandment. Colombia is, unfortunately, famous for being one of the most unequal countries in the continent. The war has resulted in two worlds that barely look each other in the eye: one where the privileged live in the cities, with opportunities for education and access, and another in the countryside, where there is poverty, and a lack of access and services. Those two worlds clashed when I learned the story of a boy who survived a very difficult situation. He had no mother or father, and his eldest brother tried to keep the family afloat, but only brought death upon them instead. He died by suicide after killing his other brothers. The boy I met was badly injured but survived. That story forced me to turn my head and look at that world of hunger and misery. I couldn’t get it out of my head until I wrote it down, and when I did, it was a relief. It wasn’t just me laying eyes on that invisible world; through my novel, I could invite others to look at it as well, and look at it through a love story, one that might be the most beautiful I’ve written to date.

Q: Unlike your other works, The Immortal Boy is available in both English and Spanish. How did that come about, did you communicate with the translator and does anything get lost during translation (or differ in the two versions)?
A: David and I worked very closely on the translation. It was an exciting project. Clearly, many things changed––emphases and mannerisms–– upon trying to translate the text into American English. I think the biggest transformation is the title. In Spanish, it’s called “No comas renacuajos,” which translates to “don’t eat tadpoles,” and puts an emphasis on the love story. On the other hand, in English, it emphasizes the protagonist’s status as a survivor.

Q: Are you currently working on anything else English readers will see?
A: Not yet.

Q: What messages or themes do your books contain, and how do you actively moderate them such that they slip past young readers’ anti-lecture sensors?
A: I’ve gone through several different themes. The first was about the violence in my city during the 80s, as it was overtaken by the war against drugs, when it was led by the infamous Pablo Escobar. That violence, nevertheless, didn’t show up directly in my books. It was the background that impeded or allowed the characters’ actions. (Books: Bajo el cerezo, Los tucanes no hablan, Cuentos de Susana, Cuentos de Tomás.)
I’ve been intensely interested in the history of my country as well. I think it’s fascinating that a country so immensely rich in resources has so many people who are poor, starving, willing to die and kill for a few pesos. The causes of these conditions intrigue me and, of course, I’ve read the history of the history of the country that has shown up more or less explicitly in my novels. There are events like the war of independence and the relationships between the criollos and the Indigenous people shown through Francisco José de Caldas, the sage, that interested me. But instead of using him as an entry point, as the figure of the educated and privileged criollo, I used the Indigenous child that the sage refers to in his letters (El amor por las tinieblas).
Others, such as the genocide of an entire political party––the Unión Patriotica, formed as a result of the peace treaties in 1986––were events I researched and that resulted in two novels, one published (El gato y la madeja perdida) and one yet to be published.
And of course, love is always love in its different versions. I think my books work for young readers because I’m concerned, first and foremost, with writing literature. The characters and the situations are in a universe given value by the writing that sustains it. And I too believe that the children and young people are blank characters that allow us to show unimaginable conditions with an uncontestable intensity, in the same way film shows us every now and then through war movies with young characters.

Q: You’re certainly an important role model, especially for Colombian and teen-boy readers. What impact do you hope your writing and presentations will have on them?
A: If that is true, that’s really scary! But I hope that the attention to detail I use to write and observe, and how I try to do justice to my characters and their circumstances, will instill in my readers a profound sense of respect and love for my craft, my history, my reality and my country.

Q: Do you actively mentor the next generation of Colombian authors in any sense?
A: Yes, I’m a professor for MFA in Creative Writing at Universidad Nacional, where we shape some of the country’s young writers. I read a lot of young writers. There are some that I admire and follow closely.

Q: What books have you recently enjoyed that you could recommend to our readers?
A: Come Tierra by Dolores Reyes is one of the most impressive writings I’ve read in the last few years. Elástico de Sombra by Juan Álvarez is also a great text about the limits of what we expect to be real in universes such as Latin America.

– Interview by Weldon Ngetich