El Ciudadano
María Eugenia Lorenzini returns to the psychological thriller genre with The Crime of Ema, a novel where guilt, fear, and violence permeate every page.
The story opens with a brutal image: a woman standing over the lifeless body of her husband, her hands stained with blood and her memory fragmented, struggling to piece together the events that unfolded. From this moment, Lorenzini weaves an intense narrative about flight, identity, and the invisible scars left by violence.
With a solid track record in contemporary Chilean narrative, the author of After Yesterday, Sewell: Lights, Shadows, and Abandonment, and The Silence of Irene delves into the emotional boundaries of a protagonist who is simultaneously a victim and a perpetrator in her latest work.
In this discussion about The Crime of Ema, published by Editorial Forja, Lorenzini reflects on fear, social fragility, violence against women, and the role of literature in a country marked by distrust and uncertainty.
–This story begins with a woman facing the lifeless body of her husband. How did that initial scene come to be?
I wanted to portray the life of a woman who is weak and vulnerable, marked by both physical and psychological violence, yet capable of reacting in the most extreme way despite her fragility. I was interested in exploring what happens when a person subjected to humiliation, fear, and degradation for so long accumulates so much pain that they cross an irreversible line. This isn’t about justifying an atrocious act; it’s about trying to understand what wounds can lead someone to that point.
Furthermore, I think a memory from my childhood surfaced. I had a nanny who came from the countryside. She was very affectionate, but each evening she would sit by a window, looking outside in silence, crying and crying. I didn’t understand why until many years later: she had stabbed her husband in self-defense and never recovered from that event. That image stayed with me, and some of that silence and pain found its way into Ema.
–There is something very oppressive about the atmosphere of the book: surveillance, paranoia, a constant sensation of threat. Do you think that anxiety resonates with today’s social climate?
Yes, I believe we live in a time imbued with a deep sense of fragility. There’s a precariousness that is felt both globally and in our own country. Our neighborhoods, public squares, and even our homes no longer seem to be safe places.
This is compounded by wars, abuses, human rights violations, and a constant stream of images confronting us with the worst of human nature.
Fear is always present; we live with precautions to stay safe, but we also know that not everything is within our control. That fear is also present in the novel, though not explicitly. Still, The Crime of Ema is not entirely dark. It showcases provincial life, with the solidarity among women in the community that exists “despite” everything. Moreover, elements of hope, love, and the companionship of her unnamed dog, who rescues Ema from loneliness and despair, shine through.
–Ema does not appear as a classic heroine nor as a “proper” character. Are you interested in writing complex, even unlikable women?
I think literature becomes much more engaging when it presents characters that we can’t easily categorize as good or bad, innocent or guilty, heroes or villains. I am interested in working with human beings shaped by tensions, wounds, dark zones, as well as moments of light. Like Ema, who is both a victim and a perpetrator—characters that result from their social and familial environments yet are not less lovable for it.
Sometimes, a character can unsettle us while simultaneously evoking our compassion. We all have a dark side and a lighter side that illuminates us.
–Your novels often intertwine intimate experiences with broader social contexts. What elements of contemporary Chile do you think seep into The Crime of Ema, even if they are not explicitly stated?
Literature, in one way or another, reflects its time. I wrote After Yesterday during dictatorship, and through the story of four friends studying at a nun’s school, we see the political and social context of that period.
In Sewell: Lights, Shadows, and Abandonment, a historical novel, the main social movements that rocked the city emerge, from persecution under the Infamous Law to the disappearances during the dictatorship. The Silence of Irene addresses exile, return, and the scars these processes left on romantic ties.
However, in Listen, Heart, the situation of women in the 1960s—a conservative, punitive city—begins to be felt more strongly, despite the emerging movements gaining momentum. In The Crime of Ema, the struggles of contemporary women are portrayed with considerable strength. Although women have evolved, one thing remains unchanged: both physical and psychological violence persist. A glance at the daily occurrences of femicides and assaults in our country is enough. The novel does not aim to be a direct denunciation but inevitably engages with that reality.
–What role does fear occupy in your writing? Not just physical fear, but the everyday fears: of failure, loss, and loneliness.
Fear is very present because it is also a part of life. We fear losing those we love, losing our health, our place in the world, our memory, our dignity. We fear loneliness, abandonment, and being forgotten. These are everyday fears, sometimes silent, shaping our choices.
In my characters, fear appears not just as an external threat but as an inner force. Sometimes it hides behind an unspoken word, a renunciation, a flight, or a desperate decision. In Ema, fear is tied to guilt and the inability to fully recognize oneself. Yet even amid that situation, we still have the possibility to search for a way out.
–Your books often feature characters facing extreme situations. What interests you about those types of scenarios?
Everyday life, without ups and downs, is not as appealing in literary terms. Understanding or imagining how others might react in scenarios like persecution, exile, illness, violence, or abandonment is much more compelling. Extreme situations can bring out either the best or the worst in humanity; and as we imagine and experience their reactions alongside the characters, we can reflect on them and perhaps be more prepared to confront similar challenges ourselves.
Literature allows us to live these experiences through others and question ourselves about what we would do in similar circumstances. In this sense, extremes not only challenge characters but also engage the reader.
–Your books have been included in school curricula and have received varied readings across generations. How do you connect with young readers in an age dominated by social media and immediacy?
It is indeed a challenge. Attention is captured by social media and screens, but I believe literature still possesses an irreplaceable power if it manages to touch a genuine chord. Perhaps that’s why I enjoy incorporating suspense in literature; it engages the reader from the first to the last page. However, mere entertainment is not enough. It is also vital for a book to speak to the concerns of its time.
–How do you view the current place of Chilean literature in the cultural and political discussion of the country?
What’s happening is worrisome, to say the least. Literature is being treated as something secondary, dispensable. It is not receiving the recognition it deserves at a time when we most need spaces for reflection and critical thinking, which it fosters. Literature brings us closer and allows us to understand the social situation of a country from a different dimension, yet there seems to be no intention to protect it.
I am concerned about the lack of a decisive cultural policy to strengthen literary creation. On the contrary, a reduction in funds, which were already scarce, is perceived, along with attempts to weaken fundamental rights for writers, such as copyright. When a society undermines its culture, it’s not just writers and publishers who suffer; the entire country does.
–What do you hope this novel will provoke in a country where violence and distrust have become part of everyday life?
I hope that upon closing the pages of the book, Ema’s life will lead readers to think about the lives of so many others like her. Women who have lived in silence, who have been judged too hastily, or who have carried wounds that nobody wanted to acknowledge. I also hope the novel invites reflection on how we educate, how we judge, and how we see others.
If we desire a less violent society, we must nurture individuals who are freer of prejudices, more capable of recognizing others’ pain, and able to detect violence before it is too late.
The Citizen
La entrada Interview with María Eugenia Lorenzini on Her New Novel «The Crime of Ema»: «When a Society Undermines Its Culture, It’s Not Just Writers and Publishers Who Suffer, It’s the Entire Nation» se publicó primero en El Ciudadano.
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