Churchill is credited with the famous statement that success is going from one failure to another without losing enthusiasm. It is a beautiful and profound phrase; to a certain extent, it is even true, just like that other saying which states that to be successful, one need only not give up. The fact is, however, that failure is a fundamental and enriching experience; dealing with it time and again shapes one’s character and brings maturity. But assimilating this, as with other experiences, is a conscious act: one must allow oneself to be transformed by it and begin to act in accordance with that transformation. Thus, the experience acquires meaning, becomes useful, and each failure is left behind as a step on a staircase. Unfortunately, not everyone incorporates it in this way. There are those who do not learn from their failures, whose lives boil down to a cycle in which the same mistakes are followed by the same consequences, in a degrading repetition that gradually destroys everything around them. Instead of perseverance, there is stubbornness, and the result is very sad to witness…
Category: Notes
The Difference Between a Technique Used Well…
It is curious to note how, at times, the difference between a technique used well or poorly, between a stimulating result and a tedious one, can be so subtle. In *Corpo vivo*, Adonias Filho interweaves narrative threads, as if gradually unfolding the story across the past and the present. As he does so, he introduces new characters. Throughout, he builds anticipation for a revelation or an event; and as soon as he satisfies one curiosity, he creates a new one, and so it goes throughout the narrative, sustaining an interest that never wanes. Furthermore, he employs the aesthetic, even visual pattern arising from these interweavings: the present narrative is followed by quotes that reveal the past, in a rhythm that is almost hypnotic, which, if attempted by less skilled writers, results in indescribable rubbish. This is the miracle of the great writer: with his masterful touch, he makes what is tedious interesting. Imitating him is always dangerous; but appreciating him—ah!—that is a privilege we all have.
Corpo vivo, by Adonias Filho
If Adonias Filho had published this short novel in any language other than Portuguese, and in any country other than Brazil, his name would have been put forward for the highest literary honors on the planet. Being Brazilian, of course, that did not happen. Never mind… This book, however, possesses the qualities that define a masterpiece. And it makes that old theme, so artificially and unfortunately handled by authors of the past, truly interesting: here, the natural aversion to it disappears. For the rest, suffice it to say the following: for its excellent writing, its stimulating narrative technique, the story’s unparalleled intensity, and the authenticity of the characters, this is one of the best novels Brazilian literature has ever produced.
If, as in the East, Writers Were Trained…
If, as in the East, writers were trained through a kind of apprenticeship, a good master would say right away, at the very first meeting with the apprentice: “First of all, we must resolve your financial situation. You must, if you do not already have them, create the conditions so that you never depend on, nor expect, money from any of your writings.” So, before grammar, before reading the classics, before anything else, the disciple would have to practice mathematics: calculate how much he would need, monthly, to live; calculate how much he would need to save to have that income, or what kind of work he could do, alongside writing, to raise the amount or secure that monthly income. Without a very well-defined financial plan—the success of which means overcoming the problem of money, freeing oneself from all sorts of financial disturbances—every writer tends to end up, with luck, like Mário de Sá-Carneiro; with bad luck, like others not worth mentioning. Cioran is right: any physical labor is preferable to paid textual work; the need for money must not contaminate the act of writing.