Marisa has a plan: coffee with her horoscope, a marriage proposal, and a Polaroid photo for posterity. But when she shouts, "Honey, surprise!" what she finds is not exactly a bouquet of flowers. And that's just the beginning. Ignacio, an aspiring politician with more traumas than votes, tries to justify himself to his therapist, while David Naranjo, a writer with a university past and an uncertain future, receives an indecent proposal with reproductive purposes. In Miarma Town, no one is free from guilt or laughter. Can love be found in an insemination laboratory? Is a taste for Bisbal inherited? How many doorstops does a woman need to survive in Madrid? And what does all this have to do with Blockbuster, dice, tai chi, or breasts lifted by miracle herbs? A wildly funny novel, as Sevillian as it is universal, mixing satire, tenderness, and cheekiness. There are no heroes here. There are people. People who survive, who screw up and who, with luck, sometimes also love.
