In the landscape of Cuban children's literature, a new star has emerged: young writer Iris Rosales, with her innovative focus on pre-Columbian mythology and Cuban culture.
Her latest work, Bijirita, is a fantasy book for children that not only entertains young readers but also educates them about the rich traditions and legends of the island's indigenous peoples. With an immersive narrative and endearing characters, Iris has managed to create a bridge between the past and the present, offering children a window into Cuba's history and mythology through her literature.
This is an interview with the author about this book.
What inspired you to write a book like Bijirita?
I had several reasons for writing Bijirita. At first, it was a story I wrote as a gift for my little cousin. Even though he was very young, he loved horror and adventure stories, and I wanted to give him one he had never seen in movies. What better than a story with Cuban creatures? Though I put a lot of love into it, I always felt it was missing something.
My now-husband, after reading it for the first time, told me, "This has potential—turn it into a novel." But years had to pass, and I had to read quite a few books and encyclopedias on Cuban mythology before I could expand the story.
How important is it to rescue and preserve the history and traditions of our indigenous peoples in contemporary literature?
That’s a difficult question. For me, our identity, our culture, is an endemic treasure, full of wonders. And when I began crafting the story of Bijirita, I immediately felt the need to set it in Taíno and pre-Columbian settings.
I used several sources, such as Catauro de seres míticos y legendarios en Cuba by Manuel Rivero Glean and Gerardo Chávez Spinola (this was my main "Bible" for writing fantasy and sci-fi with Cuban creatures). Also, Mitología cubana by Samuel Feijóo. I consulted Relación acerca de las antigüedades de los indios, the first treatise written in the Americas, by Ramón Pané—specifically the 1974 edition annotated by historian and researcher José Juan Arrom. And Mitología y artes prehispánicas de las Antillas (1975) by José Juan Arrom.
In what I write for children, I always try to be sincere. To tell a story that I love and that moves me first, so that maybe it can reach young readers. Kids are very perceptive, and I’ve never liked treating them as foolish in my narratives. As for integrating mythological elements into my stories, it has become a necessity.
I love mythology in general—from any country—but Cuban mythology has become a beating heart, my own treasure hunt. When I start writing, my stories almost always take place in Cuba, and the plot itself demands it. Besides putting a part of myself into them, it’s always very important to incorporate some mythological legend or magical creatures born on our island.
To what extent do you think children's literature can help kids connect with their cultural heritage, especially in contexts where that culture has been forgotten or obscured?
A well-structured story that makes sense within the world it presents—or at least shows the love and dedication you’ve put into the plot and characters—can make anyone identify with and appreciate any kind of culture, including that of their own country.
A good story can connect you with any place, situation, or person: whether it’s an Italian mobster, a samurai, an Argentine gaucho, a Brazilian dancer, a güije, or a mother dragon. The hard part is writing it well.
An example of this is Cuba, where people have very diverse and mixed tastes. We consume a lot of audiovisual media, music, comics, and books from the United States, Europe, India, Japan, Mexico, and Latin America in general. A good story always stays with you, no matter its origin. If we had to measure what children's literature can achieve, the bar would reach infinity.
Was the creative process of writing this book different from your other works? What challenges did you face when tackling such a rich and complex topic?
The easiest answer to that question would be what professors Eduardo Heras León and Raúl Aguiar taught us in the narrative techniques course at the Onelio Jorge Cardoso Center: first, what you write has to please, entertain, and interest you, because if you don’t like your own story, how can you expect others to?
Writing—or rather, rewriting—Bijirita was funny in a way. As I mentioned, it all started with a story I had written years before, and during the 2020 quarantine, I picked it back up because I wanted to expand it into a novel.
At first, it was very hard because I knew what I wanted to say but not how. Over time, the story began to flow as if someone were dictating it into my ear. I enjoyed it immensely—it felt like something I needed to get out from the depths of my soul. Then, editing was another equally complicated challenge.
Odalis, my editor, who did an excellent job, pointed out many things I hadn’t considered while writing the novel. And to top it off, she was the one who suggested adding a glossary of Taíno terms, which I use throughout the story. It was while working on that glossary that I realized I had misrepresented the real meaning of some words, especially regarding the Siboney tribe.
My entire novel is full of references to myths, mythological creatures, and pre-Columbian legends: the güije or jigüe, the siguapa, Inriri Cahubabayael (the Taíno name for the woodpecker), Guabonito (the Taíno queen and healer), Bayamahaco (the god of fire), as well as giant owls and eagles called guaraguaos (prehistoric birds, the largest in the world, which existed in Cuba according to archaeological findings). Creating a kind of dictionary for the magical history in my book made me very happy.
What message do you hope children take away from reading your book?
To be honest, what would make me happiest is if children enjoy Bijirita’s adventures in her magical world. That alone would make me very happy. But if I had to choose a message to convey, it would be love, the value of friendship, never giving up, and fighting for what you want.
What future projects do you have in mind that continue exploring Cuban mythology and culture, or more broadly, the indigenous heritage of Latin America?
I have ideas for a fantasy and horror novel where I plan to use elements of Taíno and Afro-Cuban mythology. They’re still random ideas. For that, I still need to read a lot and research more about these topics. But I can guarantee that mythological beings, forgotten gods, and others still revered in Cuba will be present.
With its ability to both inspire and educate, we believe Bijirita will quickly become a reference not only in children's literature but also in Cuban and Caribbean fantasy. We will follow this young writer closely, attentive to the challenges and joys of writing necessary books—ones that connect new generations with their cultural roots, preserving and revitalizing Taíno heritage for today’s young readers.