tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-252490772024-03-13T16:36:21.461+00:00O Que Faço Eu Aqui?Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.comBlogger787125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-34118273753865388772021-05-23T17:31:00.005+01:002021-05-23T17:31:54.042+01:00A Grande Transformação, de Karl Polaniy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtXNj2m4XUVa44JX5g_Nx3RaNMsN_qbQCuVSjXjPr4f1KHIaKskoV1KaTENeDU32LKB8bangaQwxSvVBo_RU6Z3ssXHVbHsgK2dbMB7aoL1VgBHRsFbXalyJinQa7hIza38OYQ/s763/karl.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtXNj2m4XUVa44JX5g_Nx3RaNMsN_qbQCuVSjXjPr4f1KHIaKskoV1KaTENeDU32LKB8bangaQwxSvVBo_RU6Z3ssXHVbHsgK2dbMB7aoL1VgBHRsFbXalyJinQa7hIza38OYQ/s320/karl.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What a wonderful book, as relevant, or possibly even
more relevant, now than when it was written. It completely demolishes the
neo-liberal dogma of the supposed advantages and “naturalness” of unregulated
free markets. It explains intelligently, clearly and common-sensically how
economic policy is a choice, a political choice. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And that choice should respect human rights, namely
the right to the pursuit of happiness; so economy policy should be directed to
serve people’s interests and not the other way around. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This should be a mandatory reading for anyone
interested in economics, politics and sociology. It’s always amazing and
frustrating how we haven’t learnt anything from History. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /></div><div><br /></div>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-5988932161320923732021-04-23T19:03:00.002+01:002021-04-23T19:03:50.008+01:00Ensaios, de George Orwell<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITA8frxQUp4VyqC_U27JA1q0EKoDl_8zGD5STnzjIDaJlHvmE4koqzxiexRNSD9G7-jy-5OPJWyt8CyAR5ca484RXATmP515gWGb65Fl9k3KS0osc0bisBsmi-kiVSEaBEjrY/s376/orwell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITA8frxQUp4VyqC_U27JA1q0EKoDl_8zGD5STnzjIDaJlHvmE4koqzxiexRNSD9G7-jy-5OPJWyt8CyAR5ca484RXATmP515gWGb65Fl9k3KS0osc0bisBsmi-kiVSEaBEjrY/s320/orwell.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I love to read George Orwell's writings. He is the epitome of what a Leftist should be - caring about your fellow humans, and keeping a perfect balance about the individual and the common good. </p><p>Intelligent, accurate, and up to the point, he always keeps his common sense and critical reasoning, as we all should do. </p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-70545899237720848872021-04-07T20:34:00.002+01:002021-04-07T20:34:16.838+01:00The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBUhgPlHuCu_Bh802KyOH_G3niLt-k_22eAhaa2yygJk096_0ujQoNRRfIcZQv23ZgL7B76nFmNeZ_fUVar4ZAxgxXATqRFyWQbEEOsAlmiCfRlABx7du6fGxJl8lP9elfBGN6/s1800/canterbury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBUhgPlHuCu_Bh802KyOH_G3niLt-k_22eAhaa2yygJk096_0ujQoNRRfIcZQv23ZgL7B76nFmNeZ_fUVar4ZAxgxXATqRFyWQbEEOsAlmiCfRlABx7du6fGxJl8lP9elfBGN6/s320/canterbury.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> I had this book on my shelf for over 15 years; always put it off reading thinking it might be too difficult. But I was wrong - the translation into modern English is very easily readable, and I expect it reasonably keeps the original tone, at least the rhyming and the spirit. </p><p>It's a wonderful book, witty and entertaining, and extremely informative regarding the life, humour and moeurs of the Middle Ages. It's not as good as the fabulous Decameron, but it's close. </p><p>I'm glad I read the beautifully illustrated book from Folio, the medieval art is just stunning.</p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-89132527425754382102021-04-01T18:49:00.005+01:002021-04-01T18:49:52.556+01:00Les Années, de Annie Ernaux<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLtIePDn9vR-4nPriyYGbXAz6eJcxV7D4yp6mixG3pWUrZr2cvn6Y19BLalKKQYM4jioSe1el0rxmojsUg3aapB1IPH3GQotk7Sl34zb6Xu7RFjRcuKmXxRS2baRjWZSik4kO/s845/annie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLtIePDn9vR-4nPriyYGbXAz6eJcxV7D4yp6mixG3pWUrZr2cvn6Y19BLalKKQYM4jioSe1el0rxmojsUg3aapB1IPH3GQotk7Sl34zb6Xu7RFjRcuKmXxRS2baRjWZSik4kO/s320/annie.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>What a wonderful book, I'm so happy I got to know Annie Ernaux thanks to Saleem Haddad (another great writer, btw). It is a wonderful history of he 20th century, told by a personal memoir by a keen observer. I felt so totally identified with her thoughts and memories from the times I lived through. </p><p><i>Monter en ville, rêver, se faire jouir et attendre, résumé possible d'une adolescence en province.</i></p><p><br /></p><p><i>Pourtant, ils n'auraient jamais vivre là. [...] Ils désiraient qu'il reste toujours dans le monde des pays sans progrès pour les transporter ainsi en arrière.</i></p><p><br /></p><p><i>Sauver quelque chose du temps où l'on ne sera plus jamais. </i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p>Yes, all our lives' experiences will fade away. But that's exactly why testimonies like this are so important. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-79674897432725246492021-03-21T17:14:00.002+00:002021-03-21T17:14:25.484+00:00A short note about animals and humans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjz_qiwmrE0vjUEkbUbF2M7qpwoREsOk7O1JV7CGY81JChu53dMVfXo2VksX6heCrWJq0UVb1W91qdkvzMKIDhUBSRVwzKb97QSzZQ1YdLR0gGBxuzMEQa9XGI9Sp2qXkQvLo/s310/animal3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSjz_qiwmrE0vjUEkbUbF2M7qpwoREsOk7O1JV7CGY81JChu53dMVfXo2VksX6heCrWJq0UVb1W91qdkvzMKIDhUBSRVwzKb97QSzZQ1YdLR0gGBxuzMEQa9XGI9Sp2qXkQvLo/s0/animal3.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Recently, reading the book <i>We Are All Completely beside ourselves</i>, by Karen Joy Fowler, I was once more reminded of the question of animal treatment by humans. I always felt somewhat uncomfortable about the notion of animal rights; rights are a human creation and they are applied and thought of in human terms, and I never thought anthropomorphizing other animals is the right way to go. I was never against eating animals; animals do it all the time and we are also animals, even if more successful in the evolutionary scale. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj3aG_HRdqnT_iPzn31si_DuTa5E0vgagFqvwQQEitLV7stCxmBu5-dcLp22qwo8zkC0YNNUgepTqSWCGNUjIzADpCIoCiAwuPDRf6c3wntws4dIDaGXUEaeKlwPoLFEo3fC-/s297/animal2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaj3aG_HRdqnT_iPzn31si_DuTa5E0vgagFqvwQQEitLV7stCxmBu5-dcLp22qwo8zkC0YNNUgepTqSWCGNUjIzADpCIoCiAwuPDRf6c3wntws4dIDaGXUEaeKlwPoLFEo3fC-/s0/animal2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>But I do care about human ethics, which implies I care about cruelty. Inflicting unnecessary suffering is wrong and demeaning to us humans. And we do that far too much. Lots of animal experimentation is utterly unnecessary – like for cosmetics and such. And the food industry is just appalling, it makes the blood boil every time I read about factory farms, slaughterhouses and such, especially because they’re so unneeded – humans could do perfectly with much less meat, and a lot of it just goes to waste. Every time I think about it, I consider the ethical thing to do would be to become vegetarian, but I never did. Partly out of self-indulgence (I like meat), partly because I know my attitude wouldn’t make much of a difference, partly because I don’t think eating animals it’s wrong in itself, it’s the suffering inflicted by the food industry I object. </p><p>I tend nevertheless to eat much less meat than I used to, and to choose whenever possible products I think were more humanely treated. I know that’s probably not too coherent and maybe insufficient. </p><p>And of course I’m opposed to hunting for pleasure, bullfights, cock fights and other such barbarities. Inflicting suffering is wrong, and we know other animals suffer just like us. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhch8Qi9J7_IbQXAJ7zMHYWwxrAqZ7LuMFXCpWqeku8KFKB0NcncVMl7RJuYS5Z2wDb6ijbiRJ3xdmB7Loz5TeTFEA3FTdQJXDBXWrSIQtkjpfMoODdJ47ZnaxGi3yBXhzCCbfR/s299/animal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhch8Qi9J7_IbQXAJ7zMHYWwxrAqZ7LuMFXCpWqeku8KFKB0NcncVMl7RJuYS5Z2wDb6ijbiRJ3xdmB7Loz5TeTFEA3FTdQJXDBXWrSIQtkjpfMoODdJ47ZnaxGi3yBXhzCCbfR/s0/animal.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div><br /></div>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-56508908969799342862020-12-23T20:02:00.005+00:002020-12-23T20:02:54.223+00:00Am I a snob?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCJgg6L5niZS13-TW2q2g69cpnUv3W01HfSrvDLjOB9whSS4-zKHnAefllsMsOA8_1CJU-oHqpULnlnRDWZa150w0iVmjyiFVhdn_rj09oeAUzxWkJ3dTpcoIhhNMKyu4g2pl/s240/snob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCJgg6L5niZS13-TW2q2g69cpnUv3W01HfSrvDLjOB9whSS4-zKHnAefllsMsOA8_1CJU-oHqpULnlnRDWZa150w0iVmjyiFVhdn_rj09oeAUzxWkJ3dTpcoIhhNMKyu4g2pl/s0/snob.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Am I a snob? The short answer is yes. But since I am a snob,
I will take advantage of my snobbish status and digress a little about my
snobbishness, as snobs are supposed – or expected - to do.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Virginia Woolf’s definition in her excellent essay Am I a
snob? Is:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="d2edcug0"><i>The essence of snobbery is that you
want to impress other people. The snob is a flutter-brained, hare-brained
creature so little satisfied with his or her own standing that in order to
consolidate it he or she is always flourishing a title or an honour in other
people's faces so that they may believe, and help him to believe what he does
not really believe - that he or she is somehow a person of importance.</i></span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As for myself, my snobbish has been mostly an intellectual
snobbishness, not a social one – but I guess it could be considered also
social, in the way everything we do is intended to affect our relation to
others, so it has a social meaning, even if not related to class. Maybe it
started because my parents were so intellectually brilliant so I, as their
child, felt I had to prove my own intelligence to keep up to their standards.
Also, being a skinny kid awful at sports and feeling awkward in an ugly and
unattractive body, my intelligence and wit were my biggest assets. Anyway, my
snobbishness helped me to cope. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One of the ways my snobbishness is shown is in my literary
snobbishness. I’ve always been a voracious reader, and of course I always loved
to appreciate the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right</i> books, the
classics and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cool </i>contemporary
books, and fortunately I have been able to get a great pleasure from reading
them. But I also enjoyed reading cheap comics and corny books like my
grandmother’s favorite <i>The Redbreast of the Mill</i>. They became a kind of guilty
pleasures, like enjoying the musical Cats or a few soaps on television. But
then, aren’t intelligent people allowed these harmless dalliances in popular
culture? One feels comforted to read the Bruce Chatwin’s account when he
visited Nadezhda Mandeltsam and brought some thrillers, and he said something
like “I hope they’re not literary works, I want real trash!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I’m writing about this on account of a recent clash with my
literary snobbishness. A few years ago, a dear friend gave me a book by Maria
Teresa Horta, a fictionalized biography of the Marquesa de Alorna, an 18<sup>th</sup>
century Portuguese poetess. Well, Maria Teresa Horta is someone I’ve always
laughed off as the kind of feminist that would burn bras in the 60s, and whose
writing was, as a friend of mine described it, “very feminine, very open-legged”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I shelved the book, and didn’t think about
it until recently, bored and having nothing better to read, I took it from the
shelf and started reading it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And then, I’m actually enjoying it! Yes, the writing is
often corny, using the same images again and again, too many descriptions of
dresses and jewelry. But the subject is quite interesting, and the book seems
reasonably well researched. So I’m enjoying reading a Maria Teresa Horta book;
how is that for a snob? <o:p></o:p></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-49858523702509802422020-12-09T19:47:00.003+00:002020-12-09T19:47:39.241+00:00Rimini, di Pier Vittorio Tondelli<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBc7KusKJPNVRayNBsExvRltSIKNz8DjdyjmEsqiUB3a8dj72G0vuukO3IeE-D3JPQZxVv7Lji99bnQftcIQ227rIKjZ0bZRy1A9nqm3dWQkqdG3BphNjMPuEIhVhrQ3J1k6A/s1409/rimini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1409" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSBc7KusKJPNVRayNBsExvRltSIKNz8DjdyjmEsqiUB3a8dj72G0vuukO3IeE-D3JPQZxVv7Lji99bnQftcIQ227rIKjZ0bZRy1A9nqm3dWQkqdG3BphNjMPuEIhVhrQ3J1k6A/s320/rimini.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p>I read Pier Vittorio Tondelli's <i>Separate Chambers</i> many years ago, and loved it; later I read <i>Altri Libertini</i> and<i> Pao Pao</i> in French translation, also very good. So now, that I can read Italian more or less fluently, I bought <i>Rimini</i> in Milan.<p></p><p>It's a very good book, it reminded me somehow of a Robert Altman movie (maybe that's why the author said it was supposed to be like Nashville?), a turn pager, about the touristic boom in the 80s in the Italian Riviera. Reading it it really brought me back to the 80s. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /> </p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-82530679383332218612020-12-06T16:51:00.000+00:002020-12-06T16:51:02.560+00:00Berättelser ur min levnad, av Vilhelm Moberg<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvXAwBnrPmahEnumSxHK2HQd7uvR4Oiq_gnMv6rl8j5RuASS-bgIleFvPuQj1ySqhBn7CUyl-d8qJc6UBSi_PEmmGg88R9KxoSMt9TrDd7xrVtoJ6yTyE7ZxbCF_vTzI6qtAt/s310/moberg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvXAwBnrPmahEnumSxHK2HQd7uvR4Oiq_gnMv6rl8j5RuASS-bgIleFvPuQj1ySqhBn7CUyl-d8qJc6UBSi_PEmmGg88R9KxoSMt9TrDd7xrVtoJ6yTyE7ZxbCF_vTzI6qtAt/s0/moberg.jpg" /></a></div><br /> I read the Emigrants saga a few years ago, and loved it. Last year, I found this book in the street bookmarket at Drottningsgata, and bought it. I was glad I did it. The Swedish was not too hard to understand with my limited knowledge of the language, and the essays are truly interesting and a great read. I particularly liked the ones about the books he read - a most heartfelt depiction of the pleasure and importance of reading - and about the writing of the Emigrants series.<p></p><p><i>Att skriva är ett sätt att leva. </i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i><br /></i></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-50064632663021633212020-11-23T21:02:00.003+00:002020-11-23T21:02:37.539+00:00Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnqF63vHaZVWb5H8ERfdCw_wAkklryUfCFBs83y3bJsteeh0lO24dse9KJpB88WOOY-u1-EndhJEW4I0OwvPFFr32GCVqukbp8IsCbIiB8JlSJ8fbCUvbg4p8U7cxCBAHOzNf/s400/achebe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="261" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnqF63vHaZVWb5H8ERfdCw_wAkklryUfCFBs83y3bJsteeh0lO24dse9KJpB88WOOY-u1-EndhJEW4I0OwvPFFr32GCVqukbp8IsCbIiB8JlSJ8fbCUvbg4p8U7cxCBAHOzNf/s320/achebe.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>This is a wonderful book, maybe the best I've read about the African meet with the colonial powers. Beautifully written, from the perspective of an African, it doesn't portray Africans as hopeless victims, but as people like we are, caught in a clash of cultures and power. This is how we must think of Africans - not better or worse than us, just like us, wanting the sae things - family, dignity, self value. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-41571834297813848692020-11-22T16:05:00.003+00:002020-11-22T16:05:52.249+00:00The importance of touch<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-5ERdLr8h919zzpS16sdRGhjmsOUjfUcFveAQmGLKsuuX8ZTispNrkl9wXjm-rwl2m4O5D7NAcGugyvCAM5IAKoa15pyEvnKuTDayZcyZJFzrOsfbpSiD0TdRkOtlSvRoTUD/s717/picasso-two-loveres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="529" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR-5ERdLr8h919zzpS16sdRGhjmsOUjfUcFveAQmGLKsuuX8ZTispNrkl9wXjm-rwl2m4O5D7NAcGugyvCAM5IAKoa15pyEvnKuTDayZcyZJFzrOsfbpSiD0TdRkOtlSvRoTUD/s320/picasso-two-loveres.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Sometimes, a momentary ordinary experience makes one wonder, sets one thinking about things. </p><p>Yesterday, as I was leaving the clinic, I ran across this old lady, who used to be a patient of mine a few years ago and I had not met in a long time. Even with the mandatory face masks, we recognized each other, and I said something like "Mrs C! How are you?" And she grabbed my arm saying something like "Doctor, how are you? I missed you!" </p><p>I felt literally a shock - being touched, after all these months of not touching! I was surprised, it felt so awkward, but it was so spontaneous, and it felt so right. I haven't touched people in the last months on account of the pandemic, especially patients; I have just hugged my mother and my children, and just a few times. So somehow this set me wondering about the importance and meaning of touch.</p><p>Since the pandemic began, we avoid touching people. So when we touch, something that was so normal before, it feels awkward. It happened to me before, in March I met an old friend at his hospital where I went to do exam jury duty. We met at the elevator, and we happily shook hands, instinctively, before we could think of the pandemic restrictions. It felt a little awkward, but we didn't even think much about it, not touching hadn't yet become entrenched in our habits.</p><p>Sixth months later, I spent a short holiday in Italy, staying at my niece's boyfriend's house. By then, not touching had become the norm, both in Portugal and Italy, so, even if we had a wonderful time talking, sightseeing and socializing, we never touched each other. Then when we left, saying farewell, my niece's boyfriend reached out his hands and we shook them warmly and friendly - such a common gesture before, but now it felt like a special sign of trust and of a truly coined friendship. </p><p>In October, a dear friend from Sweden visited Lisbon, we met foe diner and spent a good time together, but we didn't touch - now Swedes have this lovely habit of hugging (kram is the Swedish word), and I missed it. But covid-19 times <i>oblige</i>. </p><p>So, how sad is it that I can count with the fingers of one hand the times I touched people in the last 9 months? Ours is a social species, that's how we evolved, and touching is an important part of it. So, on top of the economic losses, the disturbed health care, the interruption of socializing between friends and family, the loss of touching is another of the big losses we're enduring. Is it worthy? Should we really, on the excuse of sparing lives, give up on most things that make life worth living? And are we really sparing lives this way? </p><p>Sad times indeed. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46vwze9MDPNcdZxr5p01zOOGonpu4DI7Wj1_DyFaLabBvMkbv_nfdd1fxurC1RqPd-OebT2ABO45CVtOmfpAP5PEsFNqnjfcuxuJQqmjM46hIdUoFbdDqDxnANGMdW2kE8ur8/s275/touch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46vwze9MDPNcdZxr5p01zOOGonpu4DI7Wj1_DyFaLabBvMkbv_nfdd1fxurC1RqPd-OebT2ABO45CVtOmfpAP5PEsFNqnjfcuxuJQqmjM46hIdUoFbdDqDxnANGMdW2kE8ur8/s0/touch.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-19231647401219095402020-11-14T16:11:00.002+00:002020-11-14T16:11:17.777+00:00Utopia for Realists - and how we can get there, by Ruger Bregman<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0ax1A83OhNu4yPqfweqgfNtUS9cq5GTvmZYOJAvm5Jv3bpfvNrgs8B1xK_qAYwO6j8ew6wabC9AZq_dyLyRcvgsjVe73v-px6jFKsELOEBsClq_Z5wXrCq3go34ofvA1yxXY/s340/utopia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="340" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0ax1A83OhNu4yPqfweqgfNtUS9cq5GTvmZYOJAvm5Jv3bpfvNrgs8B1xK_qAYwO6j8ew6wabC9AZq_dyLyRcvgsjVe73v-px6jFKsELOEBsClq_Z5wXrCq3go34ofvA1yxXY/s320/utopia.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This is a really good book. It makes a case for the universal income, the fifteen hour workweek and the abolishing of borders, in a most intelligent way. I think this is the way the left should go, solidarity. That's what we need, that's what's being leftist is all about.</p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-14863652881745866392020-10-27T19:24:00.000+00:002020-10-27T19:24:17.886+00:00A Guerra das Salamandras, de Karel Capek<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Qnt6hpLNkm_oV0ar2J8mTrsMD4S8BMIyjHV60xiMjTOOoDQ4NWvNxEN1MdC9Jw9lqIcwUmefkTJKG-PEFnwHQMjg11ZmeG_gIdWdB1AfDjzWOrrdVY2jYNHaott27DsmIrwj/s2047/guerra_das_salamandras_2048x2048.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2047" data-original-width="1316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Qnt6hpLNkm_oV0ar2J8mTrsMD4S8BMIyjHV60xiMjTOOoDQ4NWvNxEN1MdC9Jw9lqIcwUmefkTJKG-PEFnwHQMjg11ZmeG_gIdWdB1AfDjzWOrrdVY2jYNHaott27DsmIrwj/s320/guerra_das_salamandras_2048x2048.webp" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>I don't know how I had never heard about this book - it's excellent, a classic in its genre. Witty and cruelly funny, it satirizes capitalism, colonialism and human nature in a most implacable way. It's a timeless subject, and superbly dealt with. I highly recommend it.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-33296762753589709502020-10-08T21:42:00.003+01:002020-10-10T13:30:54.250+01:00A Fairly Honorable Defeat, by Iris Murdoch<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLzRiHld6paffw7YtinxEUxx0wlPUC-L7C3wGdm4-YqKr-u7Zo2MuqXLNssyXMg1OW8BoWh40xs1asj7lmgxM52fVBxna_JZCaemcyVsA7usxXNKh5IyUvxvYhBVjJuVifZr8/s499/iris.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="361" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLzRiHld6paffw7YtinxEUxx0wlPUC-L7C3wGdm4-YqKr-u7Zo2MuqXLNssyXMg1OW8BoWh40xs1asj7lmgxM52fVBxna_JZCaemcyVsA7usxXNKh5IyUvxvYhBVjJuVifZr8/s320/iris.jpg" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>This is a very good book, the second I read by Iris Murdoch (after <i><a href="http://chatwinesque.blogspot.com/2019/04/the-sea-sea-by-iris-murdoch.html">The Sea, The Sea</a></i>). It's most engaging from the beginning, so full of dialogue that it sounds almost like a play. But what superb dialogue! One cannot stop reading, feeling fascinated by the characters and their actions, and all the mind manipulations; even if sometimes farfetched, they always come as plausible. It's really a master's work. </p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-40724487708342901372020-09-15T21:38:00.000+01:002020-09-15T21:38:06.177+01:00La Testa Perduta di Damasceno Monteiro, de Antonio Tabucchi<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieVvZ-hm55wfzZ2eH_IGIY2Jfg6Zeapi2iyT5sjuJIZBGjahKqf5p_czBlfrOkoYdA10EQniU5Q_bwUWxckPEYs79ClZFTqhmlATQcflS8ARuRObq5SU5qvf4XFwHL0c0WjpyX/s684/testa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="444" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieVvZ-hm55wfzZ2eH_IGIY2Jfg6Zeapi2iyT5sjuJIZBGjahKqf5p_czBlfrOkoYdA10EQniU5Q_bwUWxckPEYs79ClZFTqhmlATQcflS8ARuRObq5SU5qvf4XFwHL0c0WjpyX/s320/testa.jpg" /></a></div><br /> I like Antonio Tabucchi's books, especially <a href="http://chatwinesque.blogspot.com/2016/02/afirma-pereira-de-antonio-tabucchi.html">Afirma Pereira</a>. This is another very good book, and I was happy to be able to read it in italian, in just 2 days. It was funny to read a book whose action is set in Portugal in italian, and it's a really good read. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-55394911843417725172020-09-09T20:05:00.002+01:002020-09-09T20:05:35.570+01:00Passeggiate Africane, by Alberto Moravia<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigj8rVGTw8EQcIVzo8LDNfDtSqp6IFXoeeNIxKNAVwtoGt8fph5KNqi9wzEP-_0LRk6i6WgMYriCh_4RNbqgPr5mpKr67jSqmGHfHT0v19QDHs56YRbbTABYmDf5eQ5QocNg-h/s499/moravia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="345" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigj8rVGTw8EQcIVzo8LDNfDtSqp6IFXoeeNIxKNAVwtoGt8fph5KNqi9wzEP-_0LRk6i6WgMYriCh_4RNbqgPr5mpKr67jSqmGHfHT0v19QDHs56YRbbTABYmDf5eQ5QocNg-h/s320/moravia.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>A very good travel book, beautifully written by a keen observer of nature and history. I particularly liked his non judgemental attitude, his depiction of Africa is engaging, respectful and witty. It made me remember issues like the apartheid, and it made me wishing to be in Africa, to know it better, something I always wished but postponed. </p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-26479032480302129462020-09-04T21:32:00.000+01:002020-09-04T21:32:10.705+01:00Black Boy, by Richard Wright<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEpfci5LMvdW2BVZlhZv3zba5b2dmcB_cJfQEBFm38ikUgYiEl2x39zxZf7fYEu8YMng5LLe4mZkvdZY0GA2aI2us8LNSRFtknXTjwsa3o7IkG-eFiTGk2Xq1DdAmOKO24HQZ/s1055/black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1055" data-original-width="606" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEpfci5LMvdW2BVZlhZv3zba5b2dmcB_cJfQEBFm38ikUgYiEl2x39zxZf7fYEu8YMng5LLe4mZkvdZY0GA2aI2us8LNSRFtknXTjwsa3o7IkG-eFiTGk2Xq1DdAmOKO24HQZ/s320/black.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>This is such a powerful book, it is often painful to read it. The story is a terrible account of what was like being black in the Jim Crow South, and the author writes beautifully and implacably. One can understand how racism is so embedded in the US culture, especially in the South, because this kind of values don't disappear in decades. </p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-85157607027038583682020-08-13T20:06:00.004+01:002020-08-13T20:06:34.167+01:00Diaries, volume 1, 1939-1960, by Christopher Isherwood<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Mf3ubEZkr_Gvw8pqpK-XRoD3woetbcjA6X8WHLcxhifItfnkPsJu7Kz2Quy6vIjSGAlkTSgMmzqmX8dUrENfsckbD88s106zunYo3t3l0wQDuYQ_oJXS8mqOUF5cM9Xa9kjr/s2048/diaries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1334" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Mf3ubEZkr_Gvw8pqpK-XRoD3woetbcjA6X8WHLcxhifItfnkPsJu7Kz2Quy6vIjSGAlkTSgMmzqmX8dUrENfsckbD88s106zunYo3t3l0wQDuYQ_oJXS8mqOUF5cM9Xa9kjr/s640/diaries.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After hearing and reading about him for so many years, I only recently actually read something by Christopher Isherwood - The Berlin Stories, which is such a wonderful book it made me want to read more of his work. Being related to Bloomsbury and the American post-WWII scene, I was curious to read his diaries. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I liked it; he led an interesting life and was friends with lots of interesting people, from Auden and Greta Garbo to Aldous Huxley and Ivan Moffatt. But I was hoping for more, somehow it feels like he's too restrained, he records his life somewhat shallowly, maybe because he repeatedly says he's keeping the journal as a form of discipline. Then there is his attitude concerning religion, which as a stark atheist I cannot relate to, even if his stand is the one I can accept - never proselizing, and not denying life's pleasures or complexities. Guess it was a way to deal with his inner demons and depressions, and if it worked for him one cannot really criticise it, but still. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Anyway, it's beautifully written, and it's a great depiction of the life in Hollywood in the post war years. And I still want to read more of Isherwood, I think his novels will be more engaging than his diaries. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-4684216455775125812020-07-27T17:53:00.001+01:002020-07-27T17:53:24.485+01:00Gli Amori Difficili, by Italo Calvino<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTk4aQIL6n-3QRkaVFl26GgT5jLKFaat6_EGNjs_iAPW3Qy5q8SoZKuZZ1E_1rO8h-SGUUvLtOZzCBhqZv3QLL1iWrFcWoLgmlYZDxf2MqwM_rTxEDd7kz_4iMQ_PtHiHCsZh/s1600/calvino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTk4aQIL6n-3QRkaVFl26GgT5jLKFaat6_EGNjs_iAPW3Qy5q8SoZKuZZ1E_1rO8h-SGUUvLtOZzCBhqZv3QLL1iWrFcWoLgmlYZDxf2MqwM_rTxEDd7kz_4iMQ_PtHiHCsZh/s320/calvino.jpg" width="206" height="320" data-original-width="322" data-original-height="500" /></a></div><br />
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This is such a wonderful book I don't think I can write a proper review. I always loved Calvino's books, and this was the first one I read in Italian - thanks to Matteo B. Bianchi's books not being translated, I started reading Italian, which has been a source of immense joy. Such a beautiful language! There were a lot of words whose meaning I didn't know, but I knew enough - and I'm learning - to read it fluently. <br />
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It's a collection of short stories, and they're so good one wishes they would never end so one could keep the pleasure of reading them forever. Not many authors are able to write such good short stories - Maupassant and Chekhov are a few of them. Calvino manages to describe feelings and situations so perfectly, and one can read a number of layered meanings. <i>La Formica Argentina</i>, for instance, is just perfect. But all the stories are excellent. They made me want to reread the Calvino books I loved. <br />
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Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-89030384000967997642020-07-11T14:52:00.000+01:002020-07-11T14:52:55.077+01:00Marco, by Saleem Haddad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3cnT-vuw2z0PtMl6G6kHqbS8lxzZykFgWG6TOa7yXVFH8yGEbPuh0muT4Dcco_RSUgDxsnRDvxiaDcTXRlODTXGKWb2PLn4yJjk9WcOfGRdB3xZM_oTW9SDv6B8BMZkrVref/s1600/marco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3cnT-vuw2z0PtMl6G6kHqbS8lxzZykFgWG6TOa7yXVFH8yGEbPuh0muT4Dcco_RSUgDxsnRDvxiaDcTXRlODTXGKWb2PLn4yJjk9WcOfGRdB3xZM_oTW9SDv6B8BMZkrVref/s320/marco.jpg" width="320" height="180" data-original-width="196" data-original-height="110" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://www.saleemhaddad.com/directing">Marco</a> is a wonderfully beautiful short film by Saleem Haddad, the author of the excellent boo <<a href="http://chatwinesque.blogspot.com/2016/08/guapa-by-saleem-haddad.html">i>Guapa</i></a>. It's moving, sometimes heartbreaking, beautifully shot and featuring outstanding acting. And it's so important to tell the tales of the refugees, to remind how they are people like us, with stories and families and feelings. I cannot but highly recommend watching it. Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-81455853517275792702020-07-05T19:50:00.000+01:002020-07-05T19:50:57.895+01:00Generations of Love - Extensions, by Matteo B. Bianchi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVtttwtdePJ7MMv20IebtjyIDxJHk7iquSMfh3zJQKhmdLbxGhR4ehDNGJe4n2bWY6Qu6VG6dawjzWeYceCu9Hff-pwE2LSyzxzU5l8eR1l00v2hz0qFbldGgdpj4hlJ1_NaX/s1600/matteo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVtttwtdePJ7MMv20IebtjyIDxJHk7iquSMfh3zJQKhmdLbxGhR4ehDNGJe4n2bWY6Qu6VG6dawjzWeYceCu9Hff-pwE2LSyzxzU5l8eR1l00v2hz0qFbldGgdpj4hlJ1_NaX/s320/matteo.jpg" width="228" height="320" data-original-width="318" data-original-height="446" /></a></div><br />
Reading this book is pure delight. I had loved <a href="http://chatwinesque.blogspot.com/2015/03/generations-of-love-de-matteo-b-bianchi.html"><i>Generations of Love</i></a> a few years ago, and I enjoyed so much more the extended version now, for several reasons. And one of them was undoubtedly being able to read it in Italian - tired to wait for a translation, I read the author's book <a href="http://chatwinesque.blogspot.com/2019/09/maria-accanto-by-matteo-b-bianchi.html"><i>Maria Accanto</i></a> (also delightfully funny) in Italian, and I found it was not that hard to understand, so I bought this one last December in Rome. Italian is a wonderful language, it makes one feel good just to hear its music in one's mind. <br />
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The book is a gem of coming of age literature, and the added chapters are excellent, some of them - like the ones dealing with the narrator's granny and parents - positively hilarious (I actually laughed out loud in the train while reading them). <br />
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So, another reason I loved to read it was that I became much more comfortable with my Italian; so not only am I starting to read <i>'tina</i>, the magazine edited by Matteo Bianchi, as I'm starting a Calvino book (one of my favourite Italian writers). <br />
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Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-88547073475557846642020-06-24T18:35:00.001+01:002020-06-24T18:35:48.040+01:00SoalheiraI've been lately immersed in the 19th century church registries of Soalheira, a village in Beira Baixa from where some of my ancestors are from - my greatgrandmother and her mother-in-law. The registries don't differ much from those of Alcains, my other ancestral village - an appalling number of children's deaths, about 80% of the burial registries, and the usual amount of weddings and baptisms, of a few dozen families (there were about 800 to 900 inhabitants at the time).<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhho29wNKVrAItO1TSYF2qZU09OyzS4w6-Z7SUMUWR9Xn8l-1hgsfjJX-XPUCllGp0IsE_fSkRFbSbLAoV3fGTxuxsU6ebCDvLRlEhW2WD8uCd8ksBIpReemPHtzVSfnsS8Y6X_/s1600/Soalheira.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhho29wNKVrAItO1TSYF2qZU09OyzS4w6-Z7SUMUWR9Xn8l-1hgsfjJX-XPUCllGp0IsE_fSkRFbSbLAoV3fGTxuxsU6ebCDvLRlEhW2WD8uCd8ksBIpReemPHtzVSfnsS8Y6X_/s320/Soalheira.jpg" width="320" height="240" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1200" /></a></div><br />
I've been to Soalheira a few weeks ago; it's another village in the interior, with its 18th century church and lots of houses on sale. The sad reality of Portugal's country, away from the tourist spots. The cemetery is fro the middle 20th century, so couldn't find any of my ancestors there - but the surnames were mostly the same. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvbzAFQTnQ3Ylu3-X3Z-L8C7r1Cccge7sk8X5huXULBT5SHmgi2N1Bse2DPM5wE0lzWvieAcMwk3M2aoY7Dkzr2yo89JksY4-S-fBampXrcsBBVkOf1gMc2NT7JS9GrMNphX7/s1600/Soalheira3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifvbzAFQTnQ3Ylu3-X3Z-L8C7r1Cccge7sk8X5huXULBT5SHmgi2N1Bse2DPM5wE0lzWvieAcMwk3M2aoY7Dkzr2yo89JksY4-S-fBampXrcsBBVkOf1gMc2NT7JS9GrMNphX7/s320/Soalheira3.jpg" width="320" height="240" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1200" /></a></div><br />
How were these people's lives, what were like the owner's of these names from the parish registers? Probably not that different fro our own, even if they didn't leave any records. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2ZnNJq-kbB4sHAwmImu71T2tRrHD04nRLS-elb0GLsYwWkSsh8ervBHRCK8iWqRsMPamdVvNCLAOOh4C0Dszm-Qoc9xOG9M-RTbtWzuPP6OdAWVkQ8cGkehfhFOolXfGuNb8/s1600/Soalheira7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz2ZnNJq-kbB4sHAwmImu71T2tRrHD04nRLS-elb0GLsYwWkSsh8ervBHRCK8iWqRsMPamdVvNCLAOOh4C0Dszm-Qoc9xOG9M-RTbtWzuPP6OdAWVkQ8cGkehfhFOolXfGuNb8/s320/Soalheira7.jpg" width="320" height="240" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1200" /></a></div>Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-64853296719800006512020-05-16T17:39:00.001+01:002020-05-16T17:39:17.273+01:00Lives of Noble Greeks and Romans, by Plutarch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVC-Jbquz8HeUr89UFG45dcTOioOBMPqBoOtYAm5lux1SffKKmDC7OtGJtF5HvMe6jTa27lqtgqjAhZSYU9wXb4XofDSYdsPEXxbApJI7PjT-8eqWat9fzVwlcKezqmyLbwyU/s1600/plutarch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVC-Jbquz8HeUr89UFG45dcTOioOBMPqBoOtYAm5lux1SffKKmDC7OtGJtF5HvMe6jTa27lqtgqjAhZSYU9wXb4XofDSYdsPEXxbApJI7PjT-8eqWat9fzVwlcKezqmyLbwyU/s320/plutarch.jpg" width="214" height="320" data-original-width="333" data-original-height="499" /></a></div><br />
What a wonderful read! Plutarch's Lives show us how human nature didn't change a bit since antiquity, how human goals, flaws and greatness have been really the same always. The writing is beautiful, we really feel engaged in those men's lives, and I ended up wishing there were more lives described, like Augustus' or Nero's. His account is so extremely vivid, it seems strange how this was written so many centuries ago. This is why I do love to read history books, they are such a help to understanding human nature.<br />
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Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-19492122609962733722020-05-05T20:11:00.001+01:002020-05-05T20:11:49.134+01:00Shtisel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aQM684tMf3RK-IK3aoawODWN78C7pSqFTQScC4iaLcr4XkQBQUkhLu9XKJDg78GPmE6Rka0EGTn5hgjA3XEhl1lvitsFkDLmcLwYbghljSkiQdWBH488LV5ELdZrwSIz6rpC/s1600/shtisel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aQM684tMf3RK-IK3aoawODWN78C7pSqFTQScC4iaLcr4XkQBQUkhLu9XKJDg78GPmE6Rka0EGTn5hgjA3XEhl1lvitsFkDLmcLwYbghljSkiQdWBH488LV5ELdZrwSIz6rpC/s320/shtisel.jpg" width="320" height="167" data-original-width="754" data-original-height="394" /></a></div><br />
This is a wonderful series, the kind I hadn’t watched for a long time. A sweet sitcom, extremely well acted, about a family of Haredim (ultra orthodox) Jews living in Jerusalem. Unlike other series, like Unorthodox, that focus on the differences between us (the Western world society) and this people, this series focuses on the similarities between us. And it really succeeds – these people care about family, love, their children, etc. It reminded me of the Cairo trilogy books by Naguib Mahfouz, in the way it brings a different and strange culture, to us Westerners, close to us. People are after all so much the same everywhere, in their problems and wishes. <br />
It was also very nice to listen to Hebrew, and it made me go back to Duolingo to try to learn the language. <br />
Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-39747598836093879092020-04-17T18:31:00.000+01:002020-04-17T18:31:15.310+01:00Cleanness, by Garth Greenwell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1g6jzzqltOoiCIJtR1OzeLjmqGp_WmaYR2_mS1fUFSdC6ocXVS8hIbOW4Khs5NXirHrpgoUdlue_44s8-SZ8JjBSeIs52Rj3besTV_cLRuCta8Pa1PRlwDZ7PrRLfgV-uwkJQ/s1600/garth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1g6jzzqltOoiCIJtR1OzeLjmqGp_WmaYR2_mS1fUFSdC6ocXVS8hIbOW4Khs5NXirHrpgoUdlue_44s8-SZ8JjBSeIs52Rj3besTV_cLRuCta8Pa1PRlwDZ7PrRLfgV-uwkJQ/s320/garth.jpg" width="201" height="320" data-original-width="1003" data-original-height="1600" /></a></div><br />
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Another wonderful book by Garth Greenwell. The writing is exquisitely beautiful, and he really can dig in our deepest feelings - of desire, shame, awkwardness, joy. I feel awed at his capacity to convey our deepest feelings, at how he probes our human nature, enacting them in short stories with no need of lecturing, the stories themselves and the way he tells them are quite enough. He's the best writer about desire since Proust. And he's also the best writer of sexual scenes I know of, better than D.H. Lawrence and Edmund White. It's not easy to depict sex, but he manages it beautifully. I highly recommend this book, as all writing by Garth. Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25249077.post-90273813943167553972020-04-06T17:35:00.000+01:002020-04-06T17:35:37.979+01:00The Professor's House, by Willa Cather<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3MmyyRRmzvU8KCQP5s6cfINItGLi5JGSrBF0609_VhKdIFsRq5OldJGBWvyuPuY0huxeAHNvQxpUR-xptlmoiQiutpM7Mq26x3w6a3FUHsPenm0koOCPD3YrqOvkOet6xAim/s1600/willa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy3MmyyRRmzvU8KCQP5s6cfINItGLi5JGSrBF0609_VhKdIFsRq5OldJGBWvyuPuY0huxeAHNvQxpUR-xptlmoiQiutpM7Mq26x3w6a3FUHsPenm0koOCPD3YrqOvkOet6xAim/s320/willa.jpg" width="203" height="320" data-original-width="254" data-original-height="400" /></a></div><br />
Willa Cather was a name I was familiar with for a long time, but I had never felt the wish to read anything by her; maybe because if her name, that somehow evoked in my mind an idea of light, "pink", literature, or because I really didn't know anything about her, being out of the major literary circles of her time. <br />
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And then I read a few Facebook posts by Garth Greenwell highly praising her books, and since I highly regard his literary taste (his opinions made me already discover several very good authors, like <a href="http://chatwinesque.blogspot.com/2019/04/the-sea-sea-by-iris-murdoch.html">Iris Murdoch</a>), I decided to give her a try, with <i>The Professor's House</i>. <br />
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Once again, I was not disappointed. It's an excellent book - the writing beautifully elegant, the characters engaging and real, the story somewhat melancholic but at the same time sweetly optimistic, dealing with life's achievements and what this notion really means. Always relevant issues, never out of date - and after all, human nature has not changed for centuries, or even millennia, so a really good author is always actual. <br />
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<i>He had no more thought of suicide than he had thought of embezzling. He had always regarded it as a grave social misdemeanor – except when it occurred in very evil times, as a form of protest. Yet when he was confronted by accidental extinction, he had felt no will to resist, but had let chance take its way, as it had done with him so often.<br />
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He had never learned to live without delight. And he would have to learn to, just as, in a Prohibition country, he supposed he would have to learn to live without sherry. <br />
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In great misfortunes, people want to be alone. They have a right to be. And the misfortunes that occur within one are the greatest. Surely the saddest thing in the world is falling out of love – if once one has ever fallen in. <br />
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A man has got only so much in him; when it’s gone he slumps. Even the first Napoleon did.</i> <br />
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So, it was a great find, and I'm sure I'll read more of her books. <br />
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Chatwinesquehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08684328403497275917noreply@blogger.com0