Arquivo de Notes | Page 257 of 264

Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoevsky

The first time I read Crime and punishment, it took me two days to finish the 590 pages of my edition. It was unprecedented for me to read a book with such voracity. I remember that on a rainy Saturday, I started reading around 4 p.m.; when the sun came at 6 a.m. on Sunday, I was still with the book in my hands. Censored by the sun, I chose to sleep a few hours. When I woke up, I took the reading session that would shoot the book. But why my delight? What is so special about this book? It was Crime and punishment my first contact with Dostoevsky: I had never read any author who approached his psychological acuity. Reading Crime and Punishment I felt physically in Russia; I felt, terrified, a murderer and I felt, in curse, beset by guilt. For the first time I articulated and validated in mind nihilistic thoughts, which shone in an undeniable logic and showed me the relativity of morality. Pages later, all this falls apart, and Raskolnikov leads me with him to the abyss. Feverish, delirious, makes me feel on my skin the tension of guilt, the fear of persecution. And in the midst of darkness, desperate and repentant, he teaches me what redemption is; together with Sonia, he teaches me what is the flesh and what is the soul; and condemned, he teaches me the true value of things on earth. I closed the book decided: whatever happens, I am going to be a writer.

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Chinese and Vanity

I have been a neighbor of a Chinese family’s for almost a decade. For this reason, I had the opportunity to meet and talk to more than a dozen of them. And recently, for no apparent reason, I began to articulate: it seems to me — I may well be mistaken… — that the Chinese, as a rule, is less vain than the Westerner. Deepening my investigation, I found that in China there is not, for example, political debate. Oh, look at that! I always thought that a world without political debates would be less rough and that, summarily, every debate of ideas is, rather, a war between vanity. And ordinary Chinese feel no need to see debaters vying for intelligence, proving to the public the wisdom of their own ideas! And ordinary Chinese do not turn on the radio to hear the political commentator say, “I have the best analysis!”, or to hear the economic commentator predict, “Such a measure will fail!”. Ordinary Chinese, it seems to me, makes taking care of their own life; and China, it seems to me, is hardly going to burst into debates, controversies, seeing hatred shed anywhere one looks, with its citizens in a fight, aggressive with each other, almost killing themselves by stupid personal opinions on issues that, not enough the ignorance, they do not keep them the slightest possibility of effective action. For a moment, I find ordinary Chinese superior to the greatest of our scholars.

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The Sopranos, by David Chase

I lost, some time ago, the habit of the series. But I know that if for some reason I feel the nostalgia of the hours spent in front of the screen, even submerged in a sea of recent and acclaimed options, I will choose to review — again… — The Sopranos, by David Chase. And why is that? Because this series, among all, exhibits the most complex and thought-provoking psychological constructions I have ever had the opportunity to watch. Intelligent, ambiguous characters, agitated by strongly internal conflicts and represented in fantastic performances. Nothing better is up to me to expect from a series…

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Poisonous Ideas

I have some very poisonous ideas, for example, this: I will only reach fullness on the day I cannot say the name of my country’s president. I confess, I have worked hard: I no longer read any news, I have not turned on a television in years, I cannot tell who won the Champions League and other exploits. But I know that fullness, peace of mind and wisdom will only come on the day one ask me: Who have you voted for senator? What do you think of the new bill? What did you think of the new ministerial composition? And for all these I do not answer except with a sarcastic smile on my face.

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