Livros no varal,ideias no ar.
Livros no varal,J. M. Coetzee · África do Sul · @liverightbooks
É o mais recente do Coetzee, ainda não saiu no Brasil. Um livro sobre idiomas, linguagem, tradução, comunicação. Começa por isso: Coetzee escreveu em inglês, mas o livro foi publicado primeiro na Argentina, em uma versão traduzida para o espanhol (El Polaco). O polonês do título é um pianista, intérprete de Chopin, e sua história com a espanhola Beatriz, uma socialite casada que não é levada sério. Eles se comunicam em inglês, mas até que ponto dizemos exatamente o que queremos dizer em um idioma que não é o nosso? Em certo sentido, a música também é uma linguagem com essa característica: a audiência entende (sente) o mesmo que o intérprete? E aí ele complicou ao exigir a tradução de poesia.
Coetzee burilou o estilo para chegar ao máximo da concisão. A história é narrada em trechos numerados, alguns tão curtos quanto uma frase (aliás, acho que o método é o mesmo de No coração do país). O início é curioso: nas primeiras descrições das personagens parece que o narrador está se dirigindo ao escritor, ao falar do "trabalho" que cada um deles deu ao autor, e depois que eles ficaram "batendo à sua porta". Outro assunto do livro é como lidamos com o desejo, relações amorosas e questões morais. É um tema recorrente na obra do Coetzee. Tenho a impressão de que ele expressa bem a visão feminina (assim no conto "Conto" e Elizabeth Costello), mas precisaria que uma mulher confirmasse isso. Fiquei intrigado por Beatriz e suas motivações. Isso já foi tema de conversas, o que é um bom sinal de uma leitura proveitosa.
“All year they have been knocking at the door, wanting to be let in or else dismissed and laid do rest. Now, at last, has their time come?”
p. 5 · uma de 29 frases marcadas neste livro
With this striking mane of silver hair, his idiosyncratic renderings of Chopin, the Pole promises to be a distinct enough personagep. 4
All year they have been knocking at the door, wanting to be let in or else dismissed and laid do rest. Now, at last, has their time come?p. 5
She is an intelligent person but not reflective. A portion of her intelligence consists in an awareness that excess of reflection can paralyse the willp. 6
Hands betray one's age, as does one's throat, as do the folds of one's armpitp. 14
'Happines is not the most important.... the most important sentiment', he says. 'Anyone can be happy'p. 19
To him she is part of the burden he has to bear for the sake of his carrer as a performer: one of those nagging wealthy women who will not leave him in peace until they have extorted their gram of flashp. 23
Why is she telling him? So that she can draw a line under the story. So that her conscience can be cleanp. 41
Between a man and a woman, between the two poles, electricity either crackles or does not cracklep. 49
In English I cannot say what is in my heart, therefore I say it in musicp. 57
Her husband leaves. The Pole arrivesp. 64
Is he saying something profound or is he simply hitting the wrong wordsp. 67
Caressing someone's head: an unexpectedly intimate actp. 81
All their conversations seem to be like that: coins passed back and forth in the dark, in ignorance of what they are worthp. 91
He fell in love with her and she took pity on him and out of pity gave him his desirep. 93
Is love a state of mind, a state of being, a phenomenon, a fashion that recedes, even as we watch it, into the past, into the backward reaches of history?p. 99
There is no one to answer to but herselfp. 116
'Hasn't he alienated your affections?'p. 120
'No, not important, not in himself. But one needs to be reassured every now and again, if one is a woman. One needs proof that one can still make an impressionp. 120
In a good marriage the partners respect each other's right to have secretsp. 121
He found the perfect rose between the legs of a certain woman, and thus attained final peacep. 131
He stares with his eyes and through his eyes he possesses herp. 131
Burning books is a prelude to burning people, her grandfather had said, an utterance that became part of the family's folklorep. 134
Even in the botton drawer, however, the poems refuse to be forgotten. They burn there with a slow firep. 136
It: the rose that is no rosep. 138
The war between men and women, primeval, never-endingp. 138
...there must be tones, echoes, nuances, subleties in the Polish that no translation can ever transmitp. 148
Heaven: a vast ante-room full of souls milling about in their uniform smocks, searching anxiously for their other halvesp. 151
I would have liked to be wooed. I would have liked to be seduced. I would have liked to have been paid the sweet compliments and told the flattering lies that men tell the women they want to sleep with. Why? I don't know and don't care to know. A womanly longing, forgivablep. 159
'Give joy. Give illumination. Give seed so that again and again season after season the new crop will burst forth'p. 161