Luciano Duarte | Literature and philosophy

Reality and Dream

I incline to think that human contentment springs from the encounter between reality and dream. I say and think immediately of D. Quijote. There is a winding border, apparently very ill-defined, that unites the real with the imaginary and seems to be the progenitor of satisfaction. The dream itself seems to me to be powerless if it lacks a connection with the concrete. A bridge is needed, a link, albeit in the form of hope, of “it will happen”. Otherwise, the practical quickly crushes the imagined, generating discouragement and shame. This, of course, in healthy minds. On the other hand, reality will always be weak because it is insufficient: it also needs an amplifier, something to embellish and tone up the crudeness of the concrete. And this, even in a subtle way, is nothing but fantasizing the real. That is why I am intrigued to what extent D. Quijote did not live what he dreamed of, or to what extent he actually lived. Crazy or master? I lack the answer…

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The Repression of the Subconscious

It is interesting to note how the repression of the subconscious, or of a sphere perhaps autonomous from the conscious itself, seems necessary for the reality not to becomes unbearable. First of all, by the innate repugnance to the random and irrational. Then, by the need for behavioral and psychological unity. The conflicting, the duality, the uncertainty are almost intolerable to human nature, so a choice is forced: a conscious choice, which involves an active effort and is not but the intentional denial of a face of reality. Thus, it seems necessary to falsify life in favor of the practical. The alternative path is frightening. To deny the confrontation, besides, is a good trick not to lose…

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The American Bush and the Brazilian Bush

I do not deny it: reading Thoreau, I have convinced myself that my place is in the bush. And the temptation to drop everything and go into the jungle was strong. But I remembered reading the huge Gilberto Freyre as well. And what a difference to the American bush and the Brazilian bush! Two years in the jungle, bathing in the river, and Thoreau is not bitten even once by a venomous species, his plantation is not plagued by pests, he does not suffer from mosquito or ant infestation… So the bush really looks like peace. I ask: how many would dare to walk in closed woods, at midnight, without a flashlight, to replicate Thoreau in Brazilian soil? Perhaps I am a coward… In any case, I will remain thirsty for my bush, even if its configuration deeply embarrasses the philosopher…

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Composing Free Verses Is a Great Way to Escape the Comparison

Composing free verses is a great way to escape the comparison. In free verse, a poem automatically repels the “aesthetic garbage” classification: it obeys particular criteria. It exchanges “bad” for “different”. And the critics find themselves in trouble when evaluating it, running the risk of confusing the bad with an “I did not like it”. To the artist, it is the right path to victory, since if dares a sonnet, risks direct comparison with Shakespeare. How many submit to the challenge? Easier to invent a new aesthetic…

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