It happened in a flash. One moment, Sonsoles Ónega is the face of evening television in Spain, and the next, she’s holding the Premio Planeta trophy and a check for one million euros. Honestly, the literary world didn't just whisper; it screamed. When Las Hijas de la Criada was announced as the winner of the 72nd edition of Spain's most lucrative literary prize, the backlash was almost as big as the book's marketing budget.
But here’s the thing.
The book sold. A lot. It sat at the top of the charts for months, proving once again that what critics hate, the public often devours. This isn't just a story about two girls swapped at birth in a remote Galician canning factory. It’s a case study in how modern publishing works, how celebrity culture influences what we read, and why a story set in the rugged coastlines of early 20th-century Spain can still make people argue today.
People want to know if it’s actually good. Or if it’s just a "television" novel. Let's get into the weeds of what Las Hijas de la Criada really is and why it became such a massive flashpoint in Spanish culture.
The Heart of the Controversy: Merit or Marketing?
When you win a million euros for a book, people expect a masterpiece. That’s the problem. The Premio Planeta has a complicated reputation in Spain. Some see it as the pinnacle of literary achievement, while others view it as a sophisticated marketing machine designed to sell books by famous people.
Ónega was already a household name. As the host of Y ahora Sonsoles, she has a direct line to the exact demographic that buys physical books. When she won, the "commercial" label was slapped on the book before most people had even finished the first chapter.
Critics like Jordi Gracia didn't hold back. The reviews were, frankly, brutal. They pointed to what they saw as "stiff" prose and a plot that relied too heavily on traditional soap opera tropes. But wait. Is being "commercial" actually a sin? If a million people read a book about the history of the Galician canning industry because a TV presenter wrote it, isn't that a win for literacy? It's a weird tension. You've got the literary elite on one side and the massive, silent majority of readers on the other who just want a story that keeps them turning pages late at night.
What Actually Happens in Las Hijas de la Criada?
The plot kicks off in 1900. Galicia. The Valdés family is wealthy, powerful, and built on the backs of the burgeoning sardine industry. Then comes the inciting incident: a secret birth.
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Basically, two girls are born on the same night. One is the daughter of the wealthy Doña Inés, and the other belongs to a servant. In a moment of desperation and revenge, the babies are swapped. It’s a classic príncipe y mendigo (prince and pauper) setup, but Ónega weaves it into the real-world industrialization of Spain.
We follow these two women, Clara and Catalina, as they navigate lives they weren't supposed to have. One grows up with the weight of an empire on her shoulders; the other grows up in the shadows. But the book isn't just about the swap. It’s about the "Empire of the Sea."
Ónega spends a lot of time—honestly, maybe a bit too much for some—on the logistics of canning sardines. It sounds dry, but it's actually the most grounded part of the book. You learn about the conserveiras, the women who worked in the factories. Their lives were hard. Their hands smelled of brine and fish. By tying the personal drama of the babies to the macro-history of Galicia’s economic rise, the novel tries to be more than just a family saga. It’s a tribute to a very specific, very tough generation of Spanish women.
The Role of the "Indomitable Woman"
If you look at Ónega’s previous work, like Después del amor, you see a pattern. She loves writing about women who refuse to stay in their boxes.
In Las Hijas de la Criada, the character of Doña Inés is arguably more interesting than the daughters themselves. She’s a woman trapped in a marriage and a social class that demands silence, yet she’s the one pulling the strings of the business.
There's a specific nuance here that often gets missed in the "it’s just a soap opera" critiques. The book explores how secrets rot a family from the inside out. The "secret" isn't just the baby swap; it's the infidelity, the class resentment, and the way the rich exploit the poor while pretending to be their benefactors.
The prose is often described as "sentimental." And yeah, it is. It leans into the emotions. It’s lush. It’s dramatic. It’s meant to make you feel the spray of the Atlantic Ocean and the heat of the factory floor. Whether that’s your style or not depends on whether you read for the "how" (the language) or the "what" (the plot).
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A Landscape of Granite and Sea
One thing nobody can take away from the book is its sense of place. Galicia isn't just a backdrop; it’s a character.
- Pazo de Espíritu Santo: The fictional estate serves as the anchor for the story. It represents the old-world power that is slowly being eroded by the modern world.
- The Vigo Coast: The description of the Rías Baixas is vivid. You get the sense that Ónega really did her homework on the geography and the atmosphere of the region.
- The Industry: The shift from artisanal fishing to industrial canning is the heartbeat of the narrative. It’s about the moment Spain started to change.
Many readers from Galicia have praised the book for bringing their history to a wider audience. Even if the plot feels like a telenovela at times, the historical scaffolding is built on real research. The names of the boats, the types of machinery used in the 1920s, the social hierarchy of a coastal town—all of this is rendered with a lot of care.
Addressing the "Planeta Effect"
Let’s talk about why this book matters in the context of the Spanish publishing industry. The Premio Planeta is the second highest-paying literary prize in the world, trailing only the Nobel in terms of raw cash.
When a book like Las Hijas de la Criada wins, it’s a guaranteed bestseller. It will be in every airport, every supermarket, and every department store from Madrid to Buenos Aires.
The "Planeta Effect" means that the book becomes a cultural event. People buy it because everyone else is talking about it. This creates a cycle where the book is simultaneously over-hyped and over-hated. It’s rarely judged just as a novel. It’s judged as a "Million Euro Book."
If you go into it expecting the next Cervantes, you’re going to be disappointed. But if you go into it looking for a sprawling, multi-generational epic that feels like a high-budget period drama, you’ll probably find exactly what you’re looking for. It’s a "comfort read" with a hard historical edge.
Common Misconceptions About the Story
There are a few things people get wrong about Las Hijas de la Criada before they even open the cover.
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First, it’s not just a "romance novel." While there are romantic elements, the primary focus is on the business and the mother-daughter dynamics. It’s much more about legacy than it is about kissing in the rain.
Second, some think the "swap" is the only hook. Actually, the swap is revealed quite early. The real tension comes from watching the characters live out the consequences without knowing the truth, while the reader sits there feeling the weight of the irony. It’s more of a slow-burn tragedy than a mystery.
Third, the idea that it’s "light" reading is a bit of a stretch. It deals with some pretty heavy themes: infant mortality, extreme poverty, systemic sexism, and the brutal reality of industrial labor. It’s accessible, sure, but it’s not always "easy."
How to Approach the Book Today
If you’re thinking about picking up Las Hijas de la Criada, you have to decide what kind of reader you are.
If you love the works of Isabel Allende or María Dueñas (The Time in Between), you are the target audience. You will appreciate the sweeping historical changes and the focus on strong-willed women.
If you prefer sparse, experimental literature or "gritty" realism, this might frustrate you. The coincidences are a bit too convenient. The villains are sometimes a bit too villainous.
But honestly? Sometimes a big, messy, emotional story is exactly what the doctor ordered. There’s a reason these tropes have existed since the Greeks—they work. They tap into our fundamental fears about identity and belonging.
Actionable Steps for Readers and Book Clubs
If you're planning to dive in or discuss this with a group, here’s how to get the most out of it:
- Check the Historical Context: Look up the history of the Galician canning industry (specifically the late 19th century). Understanding the real-life "Sardine Queens" makes the fictional Valdés family much more interesting.
- Compare the Winners: If you want to see the range of the Premio Planeta, read this alongside a previous winner like Terra Alta by Javier Cercas. The difference in style is wild and tells you a lot about the diversity (and inconsistency) of the prize.
- Watch the Interviews: Sonsoles Ónega has done several deep-dive interviews about her research process. Watching her talk about the "women of the sea" adds a layer of sincerity to the book that might get lost in the polished prose.
- Visit the Setting: If you’re ever in Galicia, visit the Museo del Mar in Vigo. Seeing the old canning equipment in person makes the descriptions in the book come alive in a way that text alone can't achieve.
- Focus on the "Why": Instead of asking if the book is "literary" enough, ask why the story of swapped identities still resonates in 2026. What does it say about our current obsession with DNA tests and "finding our true selves"?
The conversation around Las Hijas de la Criada isn't going away anytime soon. It’s a landmark in the "celebrity author" era of Spanish publishing. Whether you see it as a masterpiece or a marketing triumph, it’s a book that captured the imagination of a nation. It’s a story of salt, secrets, and the invisible threads that tie us to our past, regardless of whose name is on our birth certificate.