Arquivo de Notes | Page 251 of 281

Don Quijote de la Mancha, by Miguel de Cervantes

I am barely starting these lines and I know I will be short of words… Don Quijote de la Mancha, classic of the classics, one of the greatest works of all universal literature, outstanding in all respects. From all that I have read, two works have aroused in me something that I am incapable of describing, a feeling without a name, the impression of any kind of magic operating, as if they had been written by something different from a human being; they are Commedia, by Dante, and Don Quijote de la Mancha. But why? Here is the fascinating… El ingenioso hidalgo has been the object of obsession of countless artists, has inspired many, many works, and I cannot imagine anyone who, knowing his history, remain untouched. Don Quijote de la Mancha awakens in the reader infinite compassion, a relationship of real affection for the duo Don Quijote and Sancho Panza. Let us try to understand the magic… Cervantes, at first, builds a union between opposite personalities: the caballero andante Don Quijote is, physically and psychologically, the opposite of his squire Sancho. The first inhabits the universe of dreams, submits reality to the imaginary, interprets existence almost in delirium. The second personifies pragmatism. The effect of this junction of contrasts is an immense and growing harmony during the work since Sancho develops in a way to gradually share the judgments of his master. Thus, Cervantes builds a relationship of friendship that perhaps has no match in universal literature. Sancho’s fidelity is moving: when he speaks, there is always a veiled attempt of conciliation and, above all, humility. Don Quijote, on the other hand, cannot stop showing us the tenderness behind his belligerent profile. The narrative advances revealing an intense conflict between reality and imagination and el caballero, an incurable megalomaniac, who from the beginning shows himself incapable of perceiving his own mediocrity, gradually succumbs to his imagination, losing consciousness. Reality imposes itself and evidences the absurdity of everything Don Quijote dreamed of. But it leaves open the question: did Don Quijote really not live his dreams? Is it really the practical reality the queen of existence? And, faced with a flawed character, essentially fragile, whose actions always lead to ridicule, but who still believes, we cannot but associate him moved by something that escapes to our understanding. Don Quijote de la Mancha is a work that gives life to the magical and evokes the divine. And the reader does not close the book being the same person: the sweetness that permeates the narrative impregnates and softens any character. Existence, then, slows down, and we learn—even if we cannot explain it—that life is more beautiful when not taken so seriously.

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Philosophy in Literature and Literature in Philosophy

My profile as a reader is very funny: in literature, I am easily irritated by half a page of small talk; in philosophy, although I accept texts based exclusively on logic and precision, texts, in short, appearing academic or scientific, I am impressed or, rather, I seek the power of expression in philosophers, and I like the use of images and metaphors to represent ideas. I mean: I like philosophy in literature and literature in philosophy. Curious…

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Wealth and Freedom

It has become fashionable to differentiate synonyms to adapt them to ideologies and sell any kind of advice. The examples are numerous: “loneliness” and “solitude”, “goal” and “aim” and many others. Recently, I came across a guy differentiating “rich” from “wealthy”. According to him, rich people are people with a lot of money, while wealthy people are people with a lot of freedom. The reasoning is this: true wealth is associated with freedom, with the availability of resources that allow the release from work, that open possibilities, that do not require high maintenance costs, that produce a highly positive cash flow. Naturally, the citizen then wanted to teach how to be wealthy. But let us stick to the idea: wealth and freedom, money and release. The guy is right in what he says. There is a false idea, widely spread all over the planet, that success is mostly tied to money, happiness to wealth, and value to success. I easily recognize a modern slave: someone constantly concerned, hostage to countless obligations, thirsty for security, and proud of what he can buy. Let’s say he is a millionaire. He is a millionaire, but he does not let go of the telephone, he cannot miss work, he cannot leave it and he commits himself to various obligations. He has got a big house, he changes cars often, he consumes in a very high standard. Would that be success, or would that be value? Money is only noble as a means to freedom, and skews when it leads to slavery. Accepting himself as a slave, unaware of his own condition, the millionaire is nothing more than a puppet of money, submissive to a piece of paper. In the meantime, I surrender: “value”, today, like all other words, seems to escape from my understanding…

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The Illusion of Poetic Freedom

The evolution of poetry over the centuries gives us a false illusion of freedom gained, it seems to us that, over the centuries, the poets have been gradually getting rid of the ties of the verses until reaching the free verse. In part, the poets proved themselves capable of breaking old conventions, introducing new expressive resources (the enjambement, for example) and expanding the aesthetic possibilities of poetry. But it is false to think that, sitting down to compose, the poet feels free as to form, even in free verse. That, of course, if he is a good poet. But why? Because even if he gives up the metrics, the rhymes, varies the stanzas and extrapolates the limits of the verse, the poet will be bound by the rhythm. If he wants to compose a good poem, he is not free to put the words where he wants. Rhythm, the balance between tonic and tense syllables, cadenced movement of sounds: the day the poem that ignores these principles is considered good, we will all be—from illiterate to philistines—great poets.

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