Carlos Alberto Alonso’s That Which Remembers Us is a resonant, genre-defiant debut about inheritance, exile, and the longing to restore what history has silenced.

When Patricia Ferme travels to a forgotten estate in Spain following the disappearance of her grandfather—a reclusive composer—she is not seeking answers so much as continuity. What she finds instead is a manuscript encoded with grief, and the echoes of a symphony that refuses to be finished. As she uncovers the deep roots of her family through ancestral rituals, scientific transgressions, and the endangered landscapes of mountainous Asturias, she is drawn into a quiet but urgent reckoning: with the ethics of memory, the shadow of antagonists, and the cost of preserving what we love.

Spanning a Neolithic past, a disfigured present, and a fragile future, That Which Remembers Us is both speculative and philosophical—a novel of ideas grounded in flesh, place, and song. With its lyrical cadence and spiritual curiosity, Alonso’s work joins a lineage that asks not only how we remember—but who gets to decide what is worth remembering at all.