Tag: writing

Linguistic decorum and literary decorum are different things, although superficially they can be confused. But when analyzed closely, it becomes clear that some authors display a strong manifestation of the former, the latter, both, or neither. And in each specific case, much about the author is revealed by whether or not he possesses them. Taking literature as a whole, which encompasses both good and terrible authors, the most common thing is that a lack of literary decorum is evidence of a lack of culture; however, the same cannot be said for linguistic decorum. What is said and what is represented are two different things, with language being merely an instrument of the latter, which can be employed with greater or lesser intensity, depending on the need and intention. Linguistically, there are impulses that call for extreme expressions; otherwise, a fair representation will not be achieved. But the essence of every work precedes language, and it is only in this essence that the degree of refinement of an author can be measured.

Hermann Hesse is a model writer. It is a pity that he is such a rare example, whose pages never waste the reader’s time. When reading him, one gets the feeling that the subject matter is always important, the artistic motivation always genuine; and even in those moments when the author allows himself to fly into more nebulous and uncertain areas, as he does in Demian, one realizes that the intention is none other than to artistically express real experiences. Sometimes, he also tackles themes that are not his favorites, but are necessary themes, and which give his work that important breadth that shows that the author was not blind to the bigger picture of life. Reading him is always a great pleasure!

I translated dozens of short stories into English this past year. And contrary to what I imagined, I enjoyed the time-consuming work, even though I was constantly faced with the inadequacy of translation. It was curious to laugh during the process, something that contrasts sharply with my mood when giving birth to those texts. I remember it well… After immersing myself in the creative process, the prevailing feeling was quite different. There is something indescribable that one experiences when giving birth to a work, while facing the difficulties of the task. Now, all that is in the past. I can remember it and relive it with a serene detachment, and laugh at the result of such intense distress.

The ease with which an author approaches his favorite themes hides how dangerous it can be to imitate him. Reading him, everything seems very simple. But it is simple because the approach stems from an authentic inclination, and this cannot be imitated. To discover it, however, sometimes it is necessary to experiment. And even the best cannot escape this. A fine example is Machado de Assis’ Americanas. Certainly, to a friend who could see inside him, see his future works and creative potential, half a dozen verses would suffice for the jocular recommendation: “Come on, my good Joaquim! Drop this Anhangá and tacape stuff! You don’t even know what that is.” And, certainly, there would be no better advice: the author of those verses was not Machado de Assis. The hard part is that, in practice, it is only possible to say this because Machado, alone, walked the path of failure to discover himself and reveal himself to us.