Daniel Pellizzari

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Daniel Pellizzari

Goodreads Author


Born
Manaus, AM, Brazil
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Member Since
November 2015

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Escritor, tradutor literário e editor.

As estrelinhas

... marcam apenas o quanto gostei de uma leitura, é uma apreciação subjetiva. Não acredito em conceder "notas" para livros como juízo objetivo de valor, me parece uma ideia meio ridícula.
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Published on August 21, 2013 21:34
Average rating: 4.05 · 2,859 ratings · 203 reviews · 42 distinct worksSimilar authors
Digam a Satã que o Recado F...

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O Livro das Cousas que Acon...

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Dedo Negro com Unha

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As Virgens Suicidas

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Sandman: Vidas Breves

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4.55 avg rating — 50,033 ratings — published 1993 — 48 editions
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Weather by Jenny Offill
Weather
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The Death of Jesus by J.M. Coetzee
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1999 by Noah Van Sciver
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Disquiet by Noah Van Sciver
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Black River by Josh Simmons
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Sacred Heart by Liz Suburbia
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Fante Bukowski Three by Noah Van Sciver
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Refresh, Refresh by Danica Novgorodoff
Refresh, Refresh
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Patience by Daniel Clowes
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Fante Bukowski Two by Noah Van Sciver
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More of Daniel's books…
“Insisto que morri, ele nega. Pergunto se o mundo acabou, ele diz que não sabe de nada. Mundo?, pergunta, sem esconder o ar sardônico. Quando repito que morri, desta vez como pergunta, o caolho jura que nunca saí do lugar. De qual Fedora estou falando, ele pergunta e desconverso. Na memória de minha vida as pontas nunca se amarram. Não possuo narrativa, apenas lampejos de imagens, odores, sensações. Raciocínios superpostos. Lembranças que não poderiam ter sido. Mas se não havia ninguém para morrer, se não existia mundo para acabar, não sei o quue faço por aqui. O caolho me diz que não existem mundos, apenas os sonhos de um mundo. Falácia. Recuso-me a admitir que sou um espectro vagando por um sonho que finge estar desperto. Ele ri de meu apego pelo fim das cousas, dizendo que nada começa. Que só existe enquanto. Como pode saber? De onde tira tanta certeza? Se, como afirma, ele não é Deus e nem a imagem que tenho de Deus, quem seria? Um servo competente, responde o caolho. Só preciso saber se existo: sim ou não. Ele ri do meu ou e responde com seu e. Se algo existe, ele diz, é sempre um talvez. Não aceito, e ele responde que tudo que faço é apontar para meu próprio umbigo, cavocá-lo com o dedo em riste. Renuncie, sugere. Digo que ele está se refugiando na negação. Ele repete que falou em talvez. Imploro as regras do jogo, ele me dispensa afirmando que um jogo só existe se houver jogadores. Completa que posso jogar, desde que saiba estar jogando; para isso, segundo o caolho, não se precisa de regras. Se eu pedir uma solução para o enigma, ele dirá que não existe enigma. Sim, é um jogo, e é simples de entender. Simplório, até. Apesar disso, não enxergo saída. Posso não estar aqui, mas continuo prisioneira. Digo que não mereço, ele responde que ninguém merece. Tento escapar de seu sofisma, e ele completa que as cousas são e ponto. Aceite que não há merecimento, diz o caolho, apenas uma vasta rede de interconexões aleatórias. E quando pergunto se é apenas isso que somos, vítimas das circunstâncias, ele diz: não existem circunstâncias.”
Daniel Pellizzari, Dedo Negro com Unha

“Eu teria voltado para casa, se soubesse onde ficava. Mas como eu não tinha mais certeza sobre coisa nenhuma, resolvi ficar parado no mesmo lugar para ver se minha casa acabava me encontrando.”
Daniel Pellizzari, Digam a Satã que o Recado Foi Entendido

“Without screaming or weeping these people undressed, stood around in family groups, kissed each other, said farewells and waited for a sign from another S.S. man, who stood near the pit, also with a whip in his hand. During the fifteen minutes that I stood near the pit I heard no complaint or plea for mercy… An old woman with snow-white hair was holding a one-year-old child in her arms and singing to it and tickling it. The child was cooing with delight. The parents were looking on with tears in their eyes. The father was holding the hand of a boy about 10 years old and speaking to him softly; the boy was fighting his tears. The father pointed to the sky, stroked his head and seemed to explain something to him. At that moment the S.S. man at the pit shouted something to his comrade. The latter counted off about twenty persons and instructed them to go behind the earth mound… I well remember a girl, slim and with black hair, who, as she passed close to me, pointed to herself and said: “twenty-three years old.” I walked around the mound and found myself confronted by a tremendous grave. People were closely wedged together and lying on top of each other so that only their heads were visible. Nearly all had blood running over their shoulders from their heads. Some of the people were still moving. Some were lifting their arms and turning their heads to show that they were still alive. The pit was already two-thirds full. I estimated that it contained about a thousand people. I looked for the man who did the shooting. He was an S.S. man, who sat at the edge of the narrow end of the pit, his feet dangling into the pit. He had a tommy gun on his knees and was smoking a cigarette. The people, completely naked, went down some steps and clambered over the heads of the people lying there to the place to which the S.S. man directed them. They lay down in front of the dead or wounded people; some caressed those who were still alive and spoke to them in a low voice. Then I heard a series of shots. I looked into the pit and saw that the bodies were twitching or the heads lying already motionless on top of the bodies that lay beneath them. Blood was running from their necks. The next batch was approaching already. They went down into the pit, lined themselves up against the previous victims and were shot. And so it went, batch after batch. The next morning the German engineer returned to the site. I saw about thirty naked people lying near the pit. Some of them were still alive… Later the Jews still alive were ordered to throw the corpses into the pit. Then they themselves had to lie down in this to be shot in the neck… I swear before God that this is the absolute truth.47”
William L. Shirer, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany




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