Grief is often described as a heavy weight – a weight you can feel on your shoulders, in heart, or deep in your gut. In "We Need No Wings," the new novel by author Ann Dávila Cardinal of Morrisville, a professor in her sixties weighed down by grief awakens one day with the power to levitate. It’s not a metaphor – Tere Sánchez can rise into the air. This magical discovery sets Tere off on a journey to Spain to learn about her ancestors and her newfound power. The novel comes out on Sept. 10th.
Cardinal is a two-time International Latino Book Award winning novelist and self described “Gringa-Rican author” and “aging tattooed punk.” She received her MFA in Writing from the Vermont College of Fine Arts.
The following transcript of part of her conversation with Mikaela Lefrak has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Lefrak: Tell us about your main character, Tere.
Cardinal: All characters have an element of the person writing them, of the author. And for me, that is very much a woman of a certain age. You know, we don't really have a good term for that. I'm very interested in representation of women of my generation. I'm 61, Tere is 60. And we're not all coastal grandmas.
As you mentioned, I'm a tattooed punk rocker. The way [older women are] represented in the media does not reflect myself and my friends. We're children of the '60s. And I really wanted to write somebody more authentic.
Loss and grief is always a theme in my work. I wanted to explore [the grieving] of a spouse. The interesting thing is, when I was writing the second draft, I retired from Vermont College of Fine Arts, and two months later my husband had a stroke. So while I was working on the book, I was dealing with this possible life-ending experience of my husband. And so it lent all these levels. I would much rather have made everything up, but it lent a depth to it that I hadn't anticipated.
I call it a coming-of-age book, because I think women in particular come of age several times. And this coming-of-age that happens in your 50s and 60s is quite glorious. But also, you know, very deep.
Lefrak: I also noticed that your book is blurbed by Julia Alvarez, a Middlebury writer who has also really explored the interior lives of older women, particularly in her later work.
Cardinal: She is my favorite author. Julia is so supportive of other writers as well. We wove magic together. She is an extraordinary writer, somebody who I really admire.
Lefrak: Speaking of magic, there is something of the magical and mystical in your new book. And to explore this newfound magic in her life, your main character travels to Spain to learn about a real life historical figure who she is related to in the book. Could you tell us about Santa Teresa de Ávila?
Cardinal: My last name, my maternal last name, is Dávila, which means "de Ávila," from Ávila, Spain. I was told my whole life that we were descended from Santa Teresa of Ávila. I'm like, you know, Titi, we're not directly descended. She was a nun, so it was one of her siblings supposedly.
But then I started looking into her, and she was quite amazing. She was a total badass. She changed the church. She had these "experiences." Her three books are considered some of the top literary pieces of artistry from Spain. She was just an extraordinary woman. So I started to think about my next book after "The Storyteller's Death" and and I liked exploring my own roots at the same time as researching this figure. I actually went to Ávila to research the book for three weeks by myself. And it was an extraordinary experience. I walked the same streets that she walked, and she was just a very revolutionary figure in her time.
Lefrak: Do you like traveling alone?
Cardinal: It was my first experience. The third day there, I freaked out, and then I got past it. After the fifth day, I loved it. There was nobody else's appetites you have to take into consideration, nobody else's timing. What interests me was the only thing that was on the agenda. I really enjoyed it, and I got a lot of writing done.
Lefrak: Where do you write?
Cardinal: At my house in Morrisville. I'm actually happiest writing close to home. So even though I got a lot done in Ávila, and I have written at cafes and whatever, I really do like writing in my house. I have friends who need a pristine room with no accoutrement. My walls are covered, and I have little things from all my books. I love chaos. I'm a maximalist.
Broadcast live on Thursday, September 5, 2024, at noon; rebroadcast at 7 p.m.
Have questions, comments, or tips? Send us a message or check us out on Instagram.
