Luis Alberto Soto Discusses His New Book «In the Ashes» Inspired by His Battle with Cancer

Original article: Luis Alberto Soto: «Volver a ciertos autores me ayudó a darle sentido a la experiencia»

By Mariana Hales

On Thursday, March 19, at 8:15 PM, the Lolita bookstore in Providencia will host the launch of In the Ashes, the latest book by Luis Alberto Soto, published by Hueders Publishing. The event will feature writer and journalist Francisco Mouat and author Paz López, in an open gathering for the public.

In the Ashes is an intimate text that intertwines autobiography, autofiction, and essay to narrate a harrowing experience: the return of a severe gastric cancer five years after the author initially overcame the illness.

Following this diagnosis, the book delves into themes of fear, bodily fragility, and the quest for meaning in the face of an illness that seems arbitrary, shifting the question from «why?» to «what for?».

Within its pages, reading and writing emerge as vital tools to make sense of and navigate the experience, serving to impose order on chaos and affirm life even when confronted with death.

Luis Alberto Soto (Santiago, 1966) is a lawyer, business consultant, and coach. An avid reader and participant in various literary workshops, he has collaborated with authors such as Pedro Mairal, Leila Guerriero, Alejandro Zambra, and Vera Giaconi.

In his writing, he finds a natural means of expression at the intersection of genres, blending personal memory, reflection, and literature to shape an honest and contemplative voice.

We spoke with Luis Alberto Soto about the experience that inspired the book, the role of literature in times of crisis, and the life force that runs through its pages.

When and how did you begin writing In the Ashes? Was it an immediate decision following your diagnosis, or did it develop as your illness progressed?

It was a gradual process as I navigated my journey. Initially, I thought writing could help make sense of what I was experiencing, but as I delved deeper into the writing, I began to reflect on my life and rediscover myself, letting go of old fears in pursuit of a new kind of freedom.

In this regard, the book doesn’t solely focus on cancer; rather, it speaks to the life force that enveloped me at that moment. It involves surrendering to the possibility of death while simultaneously resisting that idea and living the experience with an intensity of life that was previously unknown to me.

The book explores the search for meaning in the face of an illness that appears arbitrary, when neither medicine, religion, nor psychology provide definitive answers. What did you learn from this lack of explanations, and how do you view it today?

Today, I am increasingly convinced that finding a clear explanation is impossible. Cancer results from our contemporary lifestyle. It embodies both everything and nothing. In that context, asking «why?» makes no sense. The only valid question is «what for?» If I survive this ordeal, what can it serve? Experiencing illness consciously can be a transformative process, where one doesn’t have all the answers but can pause to notice the small changes occurring within you.

Your narrative depicts a vulnerable body but also a keen consciousness. How has your relationship with your own body and the notion of control changed after enduring this profound experience?

Honestly, one intends to make changes, but the animal within me quickly returns to old habits. I would say any changes that occur are more against my will than ones I would have chosen.

What does shift, however, is the concept of control. You realize that it is an illusion. Life is inherently random and challenging. There is nothing we can do to avoid loss, conflict, illness, aging, and death.

Our contemporary obsession with health, exercise, and diet seems absurdly alienating. I think it would be more beneficial to exercise a politics of enjoyment. We should relax and take much greater delight in being alive, savoring the little daily pleasures: good food, sex, conversations with friends, a book, a movie.

You cite Spinoza: “Not to laugh, not to cry, but to understand,” as a sort of guide. What does «understanding» mean to you today after coming so close to death, and what do you hope readers will take from this gesture?

I would say that for me today, understanding extends beyond the purely rational to encompass the transcendent. Many of our ailments stem from our difficulty in reimagining a relationship with the Spirit, with a capital S, to develop a personal spirituality that aids us in navigating this exceedingly secularized world.

Cancer is, naturally, a disease of the body, but it is also a disease of the soul. Being close to death connects you with that ordinarily unreachable depth, with the presence of mystery in our lives, and paradoxically enhances a sense of vitality.

Feeling connected to something incomprehensibly larger than oneself enables you to face life’s challenges more effectively.

When you began to write about the illness, did the need to share your experience come first, or the search for a literary form capable of sustaining that experience?

Indeed, the initial impetus was the need to share what was happening — to document my phenomenological experience. As I wrote, I felt the desire to craft a noble literary form that would provide the appropriate aesthetic support for the narrative.

I wrote and rewrote the book several times until I attained a level of satisfaction, collected feedback from friends who read fragments, and aided me with their suggestions, then I submitted it to my editor for further enhancements to improve the narrative power of the story.

You reference several authors in your novel; can you tell me about that?

I believe reading offers therapeutic value in addition to the countless virtues one may attribute to it. It is said that above the entrance to Ramses II’s library in Thebes was inscribed the legend Psyches Latreion, Sanctuary of the Soul.

By losing ourselves in reading, we experience ourselves anew. Often, we relieve the pressure of the real world. We connect with emotions that lie dormant within us. The stillness of reading provides a space for self-reflection or, conversely, for forgetting oneself and slipping into the transcendent.

In my case, revisiting certain authors and books that helped give meaning to my experience was incredibly beneficial. Readings that challenged me, helping me articulate and express certain mute spaces within me. I read with the intention of prolonging life, expanding it, and with the fervent conviction of delaying my encounter with death.

The Citizen