Fiction {in Portuguese}

Is it possible [for a Brazilian] to write in Portuguese ... living abroad?

There are precedents, more or less famous, but we don’t go that far, okay? Besides being odious, comparisons never work. Each one has his own history, reasons and circumstances, affections, dislikes, meetings, misunderstandings, homesickness (saudade!) or not, missing the own people, music, language, etc. Or at least another way of longing, obviously depending on the links with all left behind.

All this may compel the person inclined towards readings and reflections to draw the boundaries that separate him from his own country, especially from the experience with the world where he lives, and as much as possible not to feel lost altogether, meaning uprooted, “disjointed, far as the devil,” so the poet Murilo [Mendes].

Fiction {in German}

So… a Brazilian… in German?

Well, obviously not so easy. There is no other explanation, but life itself,
the only possible one – after Ortega's word: I and my circumstances.

We are constantly trying to situate and explain ourselves in the world and
at the same time to clear the surroundings [people who are given to that
strange sort of activity!].

Sure we approach more or less the old hero Sisyphus, each one with his
own ridiculous piece of stone, and out of the labyrinth in which we have
been flung by chance there is no honorable exit which may raise us a little,
except by the power of any kind of good action, deeds or words, positive
attitudes and decisions that make the fine big differences between wildlife
and our ominous personal journey on earth, the duration so short,
so limited the space.

Originally written in German, as already mentioned elsewhere on this site,
there are two titles I initially conceived more for myself, seeking, planing,
remembering, inventing, correcting, writing out, always very much troubled
by inevitable doubts and conflicts between the mother tongue (Portuguese)
and the adopted one, then changed and revised everything many times,
and finally completed it after the last touches.

All this doing parallel to my current artistic activities, rehearsals and regular
performances, concerts, recitals, singing lessons and joint care and education
of our son, with all that it means on work and daily effort.

Ficção {em espanhol}

Tinha que acontecer.

Depois de quase dez anos vivendo nesta (politicamente)
controvertida e paradisíaca terra de "gloriosos" antepassados (cântabros),
não poderia deixar de apresentar algum livro no idioma de Cervantes.

Os dois primeiros (de poesia, ou quase) estão descritos e apresentados na seção de Poesia em Espanhol


when Father and Daughter
whose Mother suddenly

aracelia cover for kindle293At the height of her artistic career, and before reaching the forties, a Spanish opera diva dies quite suddenly.
The husband, a Brazilian writer living in Heidelberg, must all alone assume the care of his little daughter Aracelia.
Years later he would encourage her to portray the Mother, so that she could better get over her lost as  well as over her own conflicts.
Looking for to capture the whole attention of her father, who presumably keeps rejecting supposed harassment by other women, known or not, Aracelia suffers, under constant mood changes, furious attacks of jealousy.
The apparently normal father-daughter relationship is marked by frequent breakdowns and heavy tensions.
The portrayal of her mother takes more and more a secondary place, her own biography becoming,
always under the influence of the father,
much more important.