On 23 March 2014, while I was writing this book, Adolfo Suárez died. Afflicted by Alzheimer's, the politician most associated with the political transformation of Spain into a democracy following the death of General Francisco Franco in 1975 lived much of his later life away from the public eye. His death had been expected for a few days and the headlines of the Spanish dailies predictably highlighted his role in the Transición. This coverage explicitly identified Suárez's persona with this political process, and the front-page photographs of him, repeatedly juxtaposed with the word transición, reinforced this direct association. While this intimate identification had long been made, official recollections of this era, such as that offered by King Juan Carlos on the day of Suárez's death, cemented this connection:

What has become evident in recent years, however, is that this version of the past is no longer sustainable. For many, the king's speech served as another reminder of how much has been forgotten in Spain. Fuelled by the ongoing financial crisis, grassroots protest movements such as the 15-M of 2011–12 have challenged the memory of the Transición. The rise of the populist party Podemos, the demand for a referendum in Catalonia in 2013–14, and the string of political scandals covered in the press all reflect a broader questioning of the triumphant rhetoric surrounding the Spanish transition. The remembered brilliance of this period, along with the economic, social, and political progress recalled in the speech above, seems painfully at odds with the daily coverage of Spanish politics and finance.