Being a Guide in the World of Adventure
Interview with Maciej Adamiec, author of the „Niepewna Historia” series
He is a doctor who writes books for older children and young teens, but he also does so with parents in mind, especially fathers who read to their children. His debut novel „Mój Przyjaciel Dron” was published by Wydawnictwo Literatura in 2021. He is currently working on a book series titled „Niepewna Historia”, the first two books of which—„Piracki Tatuaż” and „Strażnik Deszczu”—were released as e-books.
You can read more about this project on the website: https://niepewnahistoria.pl/.
If we translate the title of your series—”Niepewna Historia”—into English, it becomes „Uncertain Story.” Why did you choose this title, and what makes the story feel 'uncertain’?
The idea was that nothing in these books would be obvious—just like in real life. The pirates are clumsy, and a little girl turns out to be a creative, capable character who drives the entire story. I was deeply motivated to emphasize that nothing is quite as it seems.
Even though „Niepewna Historia” is designed to encourage families to read together, the series is primarily aimed at older children and young teens who are already independent readers. Is it still realistic for them to spend time reading with their parents? If so, how does reading together contribute to their relationship?
The idea of a parent reading to an older child may seem far-fetched, but from my own experience, I can say that I read to my children—and I have three of them—for quite a long time. They were about the age of the main character in my series, around ten or eleven, when we still found ways to spend time together like that. When I say, 'reading together’, I think of it more as a small ritual at home—one that turns reading into a playful experience. It’s not about helping children fall asleep by reading to them—it’s about spending time together and having a little fun with the story. It’s a good starting point for talking about various things. I wanted my books to spark conversations and build a bond between us.
My approach to gender roles is far from stereotypical, yet it seems to me that a father may be naturally inclined to guide his child through the world of adventure—it takes imagination to join a child in the playful journey of exploration. Not every father is equipped to do that. Without a pirate ship or any pirate training, it can be difficult to invite children on a real pirate adventure. Instead, all fathers can take this book and step into a pirate’s shoes, creating an atmosphere in which both can enjoy themselves together. That’s why I wrote „Niepewna Historia”—to help parents navigate such challenging situations.
So, would you say your books are more for parents than for children? Are they meant to help parents communicate with their child?
I believe that books in general can help parents communicate with children. When writing my books, I had fathers reading to children in mind, but I also tried to balance their needs with those of the children. In fact, the children themselves became the real critics, doing an excellent job pointing out passages that were too complicated, too difficult, not age-appropriate, or simply unclear. I made the necessary changes, and I believe that Niepewna Historia now belongs on the shelf labeled 'Family’, among books that the whole family can enjoy.
I’ve come across an opinion that challenges the myth of the idyllic childhood. It suggests that childhood can be compared to the experience of war, as children face everything for the first time—a process that can be deeply stressful. Would you agree with this view? And are your books intended to help children navigate these early stages of growing up?
I think that would be too ambitious. I believe that if these books can make someone smile and give readers a few pleasant moments, it will already be a lot. I’ve never had the ambition to write books that serve a therapeutic role. When it comes to this challenging stage of life, I would say that childhood shapes our personality, and parents—or adults in general—don’t always make it any easier. Often, we end up dealing with the consequences of our experiences well into adulthood. We grew up in a culture where emotions—especially those considered 'difficult’—were often swept under the carpet. We were taught that when someone is angry, it shouldn’t be that way because showing anger is seen as rude. If someone is jealous, it’s a terrible feeling. When someone is afraid, we tend to say things like: 'Don’t be afraid!’ or 'You should be this or that’. Nowadays, there is a tendency to focus on so-called positive emotions and to place greater value on them. But when we use the term 'positive emotions’, we imply that there must also be negative ones. For me, there are simply emotions, and I would even venture to say that understanding the ones we tend to label as 'negative’ —like anger, fear, and so on—can serve as a guide to our inner self. As a doctor, I see that when I work with young patients and their parents. If they say to their children, 'Don’t be afraid!’, the children still feel scared, and the only outcome is that they lose trust in their parents—and this makes things even worse. We should treat children as we would adults, by giving them the information they need to feel comfortable. We should explain what we are going to do, speaking in a calm, friendly manner. This approach allows us to build trust and ensures that every visit goes smoothly.
Marta, the main character in your series, shows more courage in the fantasy world — facing the pirate or clashing with the royal navy — than she does when interacting with her friends in the real world. What did you mean by that?
I wanted to show that everyone has a vision of who they want to be. Deep down, we already are that person, but we often hide our true selves because we’re afraid—afraid of how people will react, that we might fail, or that we’ll be judged. We rarely take it a step further and ask ourselves, 'And so what if I’m judged?’. That’s what it all comes down to—asking yourself, 'Why am I afraid?’. We want to see ourselves—especially when we are adults—as proactive individuals because that’s what makes others look up to us. We want to believe that we take initiative and actively shape the world around us. But the truth is, many of our decisions are actually driven by fear. For example, we start a relationship because we’re afraid of being alone. But when we ask ourselves the question, 'Why am I afraid of that?’, we often realise that it’s not loneliness itself we fear. We just don’t want people to see us as failures. My books were meant to encourage people to ask themselves questions like, 'Why am I doing this?’, 'Why am I afraid?’ and 'What do I really want?’. And if we already know what we want, maybe—just like in the fantasy world—we should simply try to do it. It might turn out that it’s not as hard as we thought. That’s it. We’re pirates!
In both books, the fantasy world overlaps seamlessly with the real one. For example, we meet the Captain, who wears a blindfold over his perfectly fine eye to look like a real pirate—only to discover a moment later that Aunt Dorota also has her eye covered, having just undergone surgery for glaucoma. This is how I see it: the real world—where we are uncertain of our abilities—and the fantasy world—where we are heroes—are very close to each other, so it doesn’t take much for us to actually become the heroes we imagine ourselves to be.
I believe we are the heroes we imagine ourselves to be, but we often hesitate to accept that because we think it would require us to behave in a certain way. Take the pirates in Niepewna Historia—they don’t turn out to be villains. I wanted them to symbolise breaking stereotypes and stepping outside the box. It’s not about hurting anyone—quite the opposite. In these books, I tried to show that violence doesn’t solve anything. We are all familiar with the image of a hero: someone who is supposed to set things right, a revenger who destroys all evil and restores justice—someone like one of the characters played by Jason Statham. But that only works in films, and not for long. The truth is that violence breeds more violence, and we get caught in an endless spiral of aggression and hatred that leads nowhere. So, leaving aside the issue of violence, we are the heroes—but courage doesn’t lie in shouting at someone. It’s the ability to say no when something doesn’t sit right with us.
As you’ve mentioned the issue of violence, „Niepewna Historia” should be a part of literature that stands against it—yet its characters fire cannons at each other, and Admiral Morta punches Marta, the main heroine of „Strażnik Deszczu”, in the face with a signet ring. Doesn’t that make the message of non-violence seem a bit weak?
The situations you’re referring to should be seen in a broader context. The events themselves can definitely be considered violent, yet they don’t glorify violence in any way. I’m not convinced that they are overly brutal. Moreover, it seems to me that the young readers I’m writing for are already exposed to significant amounts of violence—whether it takes obvious forms or lies hidden beneath the surface—in just about any computer game you can find. That’s why I think my books shouldn’t ruin anyone’s mental health.
Literature for young adults often seems underestimated, yet it plays a crucial role in shaping the reading experience. Choosing the wrong first books can discourage young people from reading, while the book that amazes them for the first time becomes one they remember for life. Do you feel the responsibility that comes with writing this kind of literature?
I do feel responsible in some way. I just hope my books don’t discourage anyone from reading. If that were to happen, I’d prefer they stop reading before anyone ends up traumatized. That would be truly unfortunate—especially since, as a writer, I’m definitely not insured for that sort of thing. I was guided by the thought that, as children and young adults, we’re often confronted with ambitious and valuable literature—the kind we may only learn to appreciate as adults. But that’s exactly what turns so many young people away from reading. So I wanted my books to be fun to read and to offer a real alternative to playing games on smartphones or watching YouTube. I think there’s nothing wrong with writing adventure books that aren’t weighed down by the massive responsibility of their moral messages.
How will the story unfold from here? Are you planning to write more books in the series?
I am currently writing the third book in the series, titled „Wyspa Tysiąca Luster” (The Island of a Thousand Mirrors). It’s not an ordinary island—it’s a place where everything gets amplified, whether it’s treasure or joy. When we are afraid, we see a thousand enemies surrounding us. But the moment we acknowledge and accept our fear, those thousand enemies turn into a thousand allies. Marta gets two years older in each book, so in the third one, she’s 14 and in high school. Readers can expect a programming contest where two school prodigies compete against each other, along with some classic games that boys love to play. Meanwhile, the Captain loses his way in this fantastic world. On the Island of a Thousand Mirrors, he tries to summon Marta to help him get out of trouble once again.
Where do you get ideas for stories like these? Are your children—or maybe your patients—a source of inspiration? I imagine that a writer like you must be able to observe the world of young people. Would you agree with that?
Watching my daughters struggle with certain things contributed to the writing of my first books. I thought that writing a short tale for them might be a good starting point for a conversation. But then, the tale took on a life of its own and grew into something much longer. So maybe it’s also a matter of some self-observation. The theme of digital technologies in the third book in my series also came from watching what young people live and breathe. But I don’t see myself as an expert on the subject. I’ll leave it to the readers to decide whether I got it right.