Chapter 2

"Hello, I'm Lauren Laverne, and this is the Desert Island Discs Podcast. Every week I ask my guest to choose the eight tracks, book, and luxury item they'd want to take with them if they were cast away to a desert island.

My guest this week is a man who, with just a single novel, reshaped the landscape of contemporary literature and left an indelible mark on readers around the world.

Wilson Stolars is the author of Annie's Right, a debut novel that captured hearts and imaginations when it was released. The book about a little girl and a mayfly having a conversation somewhere in San Salvador, El Salvador, is a raw and quietly powerful exploration of love, illness, memory, and resilience. It is loosely based on Wilson's relationship with his wife, Ana, and her long battle with brain cancer. It went on to win the Giller Prize in Canada, was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize, and has sold over 30 million copies worldwide.

The novel's success sparked a cultural phenomenon. Its adaptation into a feature film, also titled Annie's Right, became one of the most celebrated movies of the decade; the film, which grossed nearly a billion dollars globally, also took home Oscars for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Original Score—both written by Wilson himself.

But Wilson's story begins far from the spotlight. Raised in Burnaby, British Columbia, in a home that was, by his own account, heavy with unspoken emotion, Wilson's upbringing was shaped by parents, Danny and Leah Stolars, who, while trying to care for Wilson and his older sister Cindy the best way they knew how, struggled to nurture the creative flame that burned inside him. Emotionally reserved and often pessimistic—particularly his mother Leah—they found it difficult to offer the kind of encouragement or openness Wilson would one day seek to provide through his art.

He didn't attend university. Instead, he found his voice and community in other places—through music, storytelling, and the raw trial-and-error of lived experience. In the early 2000s, Wilson fronted a local band called Catscam, whose gigs were known for their gritty intimacy and sharp lyrics. And it was during this chapter of his life, at a house party thrown by Wilson and his roommates in September 2001 that he met Ana.

The party was a last-minute pivot. Catscam had been scheduled to perform at a café that evening, but the show was cancelled following the tragic news that the café owner's brother had died in the September 11 attacks. That night, in the echo of global grief, Wilson met Ana Flores—a woman whose intelligence, warmth, and sense of mischief would go on to shape the rest of his life.

Ana was born in San Salvador, El Salvador, and immigrated to Vancouver with her family at the age of three after her father, Esteban Flores, was killed during a mugging gone wrong. The loss sent shockwaves through their community. Esteban, a beloved muralist, had long collaborated with his childhood friend Santiago, creating breathtaking public works across San Salvador. Years later, after the success of Annie's Right, the President of El Salvador, Nayib Bukele, declared Esteban's final remaining mural—The Pink Shower Tree—a national monument. Originally painted on the home of businessman Marco Gonzalez, it now resides in La Plaza Libertad.

For me personally, Annie's Right arrived at a moment of great personal pain. I read it while sitting beside my mother in hospital as she battled pancreatic cancer. It became a companion, a mirror, and at times, a lifeline. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way.

And so today, it's a great honour to welcome the man whose words helped so many of us feel a little more seen, a little less alone.

Wilson Stolars, welcome to Desert Island Discs."

"Thank you very much for having me. It's a pleasure."

"Let's start at the beginning, if we can. You grew up in Burnaby, in a home that you've described as... complicated. What was childhood like for you? What kind of kid were you?"

"Well, Lauren. I, uh... I think I was a loud quiet kid."

"Ha, okay? Explain."

"Well, I was a bit of a worrier. I spent a lot of time in my head. I think I learned pretty early that emotions weren't something you really brought to the dinner table, you know? So, I kept them in my pockets. Saved them for later."

"You've mentioned before that your parents, Danny and Leah, weren't the most expressive people, and that they struggled to understand your creative instincts. Did that make it difficult to find your voice early on?"

"I don't know. I think I always knew where my voice was. I just made excuses for not letting it out. My parents were both dealing with their own stuff, I think. Stuff they didn't have the tools to process. There wasn't a lot of encouragement, let's just say that. I remember once I wrote this poem about a girl I liked in the sixth grade—it was dramatic and probably terrible, and my mom read it and said, 'You should do your homework instead.' That sort of thing sticks. I didn't stop writing, but I stopped sharing."

"I want to ask you about the night you met Ana Flores. The concert was cancelled, the world was reeling from the events of 9/11—and yet, in this strange, tragic moment, something beautiful began. Can you take me back to that night?"

"It was surreal. The whole world felt upside down. We were supposed to play at this café downtown, but the owner cancelled because his brother had died in the towers. So, we threw together this little house party instead. And then Ana walked in. She had this...presence. Like the room shifted slightly to make space for her. I don't remember exactly what we talked about at first—I know that I made a fool of myself—and I remember knowing that 'this is going to be the girl that I marry.'"

"I imagine you and Ana shared a lot of music in your life together. So, let's turn to the first of your eight tracks. What have you chosen to bring to the island, and why?"

“My first choice is “I Know There’s an Answer” by The Beach Boys.