Although bucolic poetry can, with good reason, seem very boring, sometimes unpalatable, the sentiment it articulates is certainly authentic and beautiful. And even if the verses get tiresome, almost always because they go on longer than they should, it’s very good to meditate on the image that emerges from them. Merely imagining the placid and perennial satisfaction that can be extracted from a life centered on simplicity and communion with the environment is something positive, as it enriches the imagination with a tangible possibility that the world almost always strives to hide.
Tag: literature
Stylistically, a Lot Is Tolerated…
Stylistically, a lot is tolerated; but this habit of hiding what is being said, of intentionally complicating the simple, is only tolerated if the effort of interpretation rewards; otherwise, the author can only irritate. And the worst thing is to see the number of examples of this practice, which for some passes for merit, as if saying something obliquely were saying it creatively. It is pitiful. The same language, sublimated by the greats, becomes a refuge for those who have nothing to say.
In Literature, It Is After Having Invested…
In literature, it is after having invested hours and hours of effort over many years that one reaches the ideal level of commitment. Before that, one is driven more by a motivation that, however great or small, if it ceases, will interrupt the development of the vocation. After this stage, the writer is always faced with a monstrous work that has already been completed. There is no turning back, what is done is done, and what is needed is simply to carry on.
The World Leader in Homicides
It seems impossible for contemporary Brazilian literature not to have the tragic notes and gravity that it has historically lacked, now that the country has established itself as the world leader in homicides. To do otherwise would be a death knell for Brazilian literature. If, relatively speaking, Brazil was spared great tragedies in the past, reality is now imposing itself in the form of a humanitarian scandal, so violent that the writer can only consciously ignore it. And to ignore it, of course, would be to betray his profession.