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O Manual dos Inquisidores
História do desmoronamento de uma família da alta burguesia do antigo regime, rica e considerada, centra-se na figura do patriarca, Dr. Francisco, influente e poderoso governante de Salazar, que fora director-geral, secretário de Estado e finalmente ministro.
A acção decorre em dois tempos distintos, separados pela revolução de 25 de Abril de 1974.
O romance dá conta quer da vida das personagens durante o Estado Novo, tempo de opulência e de fortuna, quer da mudança drástica sofrida com a queda do regime fascista.
A acção decorre em dois tempos distintos, separados pela revolução de 25 de Abril de 1974.
O romance dá conta quer da vida das personagens durante o Estado Novo, tempo de opulência e de fortuna, quer da mudança drástica sofrida com a queda do regime fascista.
400 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
52 people are currently reading
3310 people want to read
About the author
António Lobo Antunes
87 books1,039 followersAt the age of seven, António Lobo Antunes decided to be a writer but when he was 16, his father sent him to medical school - he is a psychiatrist. During this time he never stopped writing.
By the end of his education he had to join the Army, to take part in the war in Angola, from 1970 to 1973. It was there, in a military hospital, that he gained interest for the subjects of death and the other. The Angolan war for independence later became subject to many of his novels. He worked many months in Germany and Belgium.
In 1979, Lobo Antunes published his first novel - Memória de Elefante (Elephant's Memory), where he told the story of his separation. Due to the success of his first novel, Lobo Antunes decided to devote his evenings to writing. He has been practicing psychiatry all the time, though, mainly at the outpatient's unit at the Hospital Miguel Bombarda of Lisbon.
His style is considered to be very dense, heavily influenced by William Faulkner, James Joyce and Louis-Ferdinand Céline.
He has an extensive work, translated into several languages. Among the many awards he has received so far, in 2007 he received the Camões Award, the most prestigious Portuguese literary award.
By the end of his education he had to join the Army, to take part in the war in Angola, from 1970 to 1973. It was there, in a military hospital, that he gained interest for the subjects of death and the other. The Angolan war for independence later became subject to many of his novels. He worked many months in Germany and Belgium.
In 1979, Lobo Antunes published his first novel - Memória de Elefante (Elephant's Memory), where he told the story of his separation. Due to the success of his first novel, Lobo Antunes decided to devote his evenings to writing. He has been practicing psychiatry all the time, though, mainly at the outpatient's unit at the Hospital Miguel Bombarda of Lisbon.
His style is considered to be very dense, heavily influenced by William Faulkner, James Joyce and Louis-Ferdinand Céline.
He has an extensive work, translated into several languages. Among the many awards he has received so far, in 2007 he received the Camões Award, the most prestigious Portuguese literary award.
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October 25, 2023
The Inquisitors’ Manual is a burlesque of misery: mésalliances, matrimonial unfaithfulness, divorces, ignorance, stupidity, incompetence, ugly vices, social cataclysms, decline and fall…
The Inquisitors’ Manual is about a pig style of living in a pigsty of the world: the rich are greedy an villainous while the poor are grudgeful and wicked… And meanness has the highest utility because it is a main propulsion device allowing to reach power…
The meaner one gets the higher one manages to climb a social ladder… But does it pay?
(I must have been fifteen or sixteen years old because the new garage next to the beech trees was being built, the tractor rumbled beyond the vegetable garden, and the metal blades of the windmill creaked in the heat)
when I heard murmurs and whispers and steps in the chapel, not the sounds of chickens or turtledoves or magpies but of people, perhaps the gypsies from Azeitão making off with the
Virgin Mary and the carved candlesticks
(women in black skirts, men blowing on flames under coffeepots, sad scrawny mules)
and I grabbed one of the canes from the stoneware umbrella stand in the foyer and trotted across the dining room where the chandelier sprinkled glass shadows onto the tablecloth, I leapt over the flower bed with birds-of-paradise, I leapt over the petunias, the chapel door was open, the candles fluttered under the arches, but I didn’t find the Gypsies from Azeitão
I found the cook lying flat out on the altar, her clothes all tousled, with her apron around her neck, and my father beet red, cigarillo in his mouth and hat on his head, holding on to her hips and looking at me without anger or surprise…
The Inquisitors’ Manual is about a pig style of living in a pigsty of the world: the rich are greedy an villainous while the poor are grudgeful and wicked… And meanness has the highest utility because it is a main propulsion device allowing to reach power…
I never went more than two or three times to the farm in Palmela, I don’t like cows, I don’t like pigs, I don’t like the smell of manure everywhere you turn, and I didn’t like my father-in-law eyeing me from head to toe as if he’d never seen me, as if I hadn’t already been his daughter-in-law for ten years
“A skinny hothead without hips, you don’t know how to pick out a heifer, João”
eyeing me without the slightest hesitation, shame, or scruple, indifferent to the housekeeper, to the maids, to our kids, and to the broad with a lapdog who sat next to him on the sofa, a sinister, incredibly tacky broad in her fifties, dressed up at five in the afternoon as if for a baptismal ceremony in Algés or some other nouveau-riche suburb, the widow of a small-town pharmacist or civil servant who liked to call me dear and touch my arm when she talked to me, I hate to be touched, and the old broad would grab my arm…
The meaner one gets the higher one manages to climb a social ladder… But does it pay?
February 15, 2022
Sic transit horror mundi
The misery that was fascist and colonial Portugal. Not just the documented political and economic misery of the New State dictatorship but the social and emotional degradation which is impossible to establish on any metric. And not just the misery of the regime, but the misery of the revolution that overthrew it, including its aftermath.
Revolutions, violent or not, never have predictable consequences. Just as America has recently taken a crap-shoot with Donald Trump so Portugal rolled the dice in the Carnation Revolution of 1974 that overthrew the remnants of Oliveira Salazar’s corporatist, Catholic totalitarianism and dismantled the Portuguese empire in African and East Timor. And just as Trump will find that the undoing of international trade arrangements causes as much disruption as their creation, so Portugal found that the undoing of Salazar’s legacy was in many ways more painful than its continuation. Sadly, apart from anything else, revolution releases greed, envy and retribution far more readily than it does justice, equality and respect, particularly if you're a woman. As a consequence the net revolutionary effect on the human condition approaches zero, and does nothing to avoid the inevitability of human death. Sic transit...
Lobo Antunes has developed a unique way of telling a uniquely Portuguese story. Neither straightforward narrative nor stream of consciousness, his prose is what might be called multi-temporal; it jumps back and forth within the same paragraph, sometimes within a single sentence, over a forty or fifty year period, recalling events, emotions, and sensations into a coherent present, and punctuating that present with repetition of its most important phrase. It is also all recounted in the first person, but by at least a dozen persons, each with his own voice (and vice), whose narratives inter-weave.
It sounds complicated but, amazingly, the technique is not at all difficult to follow. In fact it is an extremely effective way to tell this complex cultural story. Lobo Antunes’s construction of individual histories is never too laboured. And his sequencing of narratives is perfectly timed. For my money The Inquisitors Manual is as good as the best of Jose Saramago. And because of a geographic realism that rivals that of Saramago, one can readily enter Lobo Antunes’s world South of the Tagus via Google Earth as an additional treat.
The misery that was fascist and colonial Portugal. Not just the documented political and economic misery of the New State dictatorship but the social and emotional degradation which is impossible to establish on any metric. And not just the misery of the regime, but the misery of the revolution that overthrew it, including its aftermath.
Revolutions, violent or not, never have predictable consequences. Just as America has recently taken a crap-shoot with Donald Trump so Portugal rolled the dice in the Carnation Revolution of 1974 that overthrew the remnants of Oliveira Salazar’s corporatist, Catholic totalitarianism and dismantled the Portuguese empire in African and East Timor. And just as Trump will find that the undoing of international trade arrangements causes as much disruption as their creation, so Portugal found that the undoing of Salazar’s legacy was in many ways more painful than its continuation. Sadly, apart from anything else, revolution releases greed, envy and retribution far more readily than it does justice, equality and respect, particularly if you're a woman. As a consequence the net revolutionary effect on the human condition approaches zero, and does nothing to avoid the inevitability of human death. Sic transit...
Lobo Antunes has developed a unique way of telling a uniquely Portuguese story. Neither straightforward narrative nor stream of consciousness, his prose is what might be called multi-temporal; it jumps back and forth within the same paragraph, sometimes within a single sentence, over a forty or fifty year period, recalling events, emotions, and sensations into a coherent present, and punctuating that present with repetition of its most important phrase. It is also all recounted in the first person, but by at least a dozen persons, each with his own voice (and vice), whose narratives inter-weave.
It sounds complicated but, amazingly, the technique is not at all difficult to follow. In fact it is an extremely effective way to tell this complex cultural story. Lobo Antunes’s construction of individual histories is never too laboured. And his sequencing of narratives is perfectly timed. For my money The Inquisitors Manual is as good as the best of Jose Saramago. And because of a geographic realism that rivals that of Saramago, one can readily enter Lobo Antunes’s world South of the Tagus via Google Earth as an additional treat.
April 4, 2021
Vjetar je u močvari komešao sparušene dalije i eukaliptuse, koji su se širili i skupljali u ritmu disanja blata.
Antuneš je ovdje poput cunamija. Jeste da sve ruši, ali s druge strane ostavlja prostora da se izgradi nešto novo i bolje. Gradioci će imati puno posla. Dosta se vidi Selinov uticaj, naročito na njegov roman ,,Smrt na kredit." Ovdje i jedan i drugi roman obuhvataju svakodnevnicu preživljavanja, teškoće u porodici, i nepomirenost s državnom klikom. Zanimljivo je da su obojica ljekari, mobilisani, i da su lječili u ratu. Njihov stil, bar uzevši u obzir ,,Smrt na kredit" i ovu knjigu, nije nešto što bih mogao lako da svarim. Često me dovodi do zamora i iscrpljenosti.
Međutim, kad shvatiš da se Antunešev Portugal nalazi u jednom nemilostivom vremenu, pokriven prljavštinom fašističke diktature, i progonom, onda se jednostavno pitaš da li je moglo drugačije. Sva nesloga unutar porodice, sukob porodice s vlastodršcima i međuljudski odnosi su dovedeni pred liticu, a počesto se ispoljavaju i kroz jednu tananu tragi-komičnost. Često ne znaš da li da vrištiš od smjeha ili od muke. More i katedrale dobijaju jedan sumoran ton, a eukaliptusi su na svakom koraku. Zloba je moćan podsticaj koji piščeve junake vodi kroz vrtloge haosa sa kojim se svakodnevno suočavaju. Njihova vulgarnost ih okoštava i predstavlja ono što možeš da uzmeš kao reper nekog svakodnevnog prolaznika. Ovdje je nanošenje bola nešto što pruža zadovoljstvo onome ko ga nanosi i pokazuje svu njegovu bezobzirnost. Piščeva okolina je toliko zagađena da nema nikakvog odgonetanja, već predstavlja otvorenu jednostranost i pojednostavljenost.
Složiću se da je ovdje prijevod (Tamina Šop), odnosno ne samo prijevod kao takav, već i ta sposobnost i mjera da se ovaj roman složi i na najbolji mogući način predstavi čitaocima. Ono što je u ovoj knjizi olakšavajuće jesu Antuneševi blesavi komentari koji su svijetla tačka u ovom romanu. Tako se uspostavlja balans koji daje čitaocu vjetar u leđa i čini da ovo djelo ipak bude malo prijatnije.
February 1, 2020
Nedavno je u svetskoj sudskoj praksi napravljen istorijski presedan tako što je za krunski dokaz uzeto verbalno svedočenje i to upravo osobe koja tuži. Proces je trajao veoma dugo iz čega se može razumeti da je bilo mnogo veštačenja, kontratužbi i drugih pravnih trakalica, ali se istinitijim od svega materijalnog proglasilo tužiteljkino sećanje na događaje od pre više decenija. Reč je o nekoj nesretnoj devojčici, sada ženi u zrelim godinama, koja je, da bi podnela grozomorna očeva zlostavljanja, sebe podvojila na preko stotinu ličnosti, toliko autentičnih da se više nisu mogli smatrati odstupanjima od psihičke stabilnosti, te ih je sud priznao kao objektivne i sasvim nezavisne svedoke. Među tim ličnostima je bilo i muških i ženskih i dece i odraslih, a zajedničko im je bilo jedino to što su doživeli – svako na sopstveni način, ali svi isto.
E, u takav neki odnos je Antuneš postavio svoje likove, iako mu seksualna zlostavljanja nisu tema, tačnije, nisu primarna iako ih ima. Nije mu, ako mene pitate, tema ni fašizam, tačnije, nije primarna, iako su fašistički užasi su još prisutniji od pređašnjih.
Ovo je bomba knjiga, veoma složen mehanizam i može se ljuštiti sve do jezgra univerzalnosti. A unutra raspad: ideologije, države, sistema, porodice, pojedinca, ljubavi, snova, ambicija, nadanja, želja. I svi se raspadaju – svako na sopstveni način, ali svi isto.
Čitalac može da sudi, može da se pita ko će da sudi, može da razmišlja da li uopšte treba suditi i tako u nedogled. To su već pitanja senzibiliteta preferenci svake pojedine ličnosti.
U svakom slučaju, ovo je maestralno napisan i sjajno preveden roman zbog koga ću morati da pravim rokade po listi najboljih koje sam do sada pročitala.
E, u takav neki odnos je Antuneš postavio svoje likove, iako mu seksualna zlostavljanja nisu tema, tačnije, nisu primarna iako ih ima. Nije mu, ako mene pitate, tema ni fašizam, tačnije, nije primarna, iako su fašistički užasi su još prisutniji od pređašnjih.
Ovo je bomba knjiga, veoma složen mehanizam i može se ljuštiti sve do jezgra univerzalnosti. A unutra raspad: ideologije, države, sistema, porodice, pojedinca, ljubavi, snova, ambicija, nadanja, želja. I svi se raspadaju – svako na sopstveni način, ali svi isto.
Čitalac može da sudi, može da se pita ko će da sudi, može da razmišlja da li uopšte treba suditi i tako u nedogled. To su već pitanja senzibiliteta preferenci svake pojedine ličnosti.
U svakom slučaju, ovo je maestralno napisan i sjajno preveden roman zbog koga ću morati da pravim rokade po listi najboljih koje sam do sada pročitala.
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September 9, 2016Prvi put u sto godina mogu da se složim sa nekim blurbom: „Kada se Antuneš razmahne… stoji rame uz rame sa Vilijamom Foknerom ili Selinom.“ Jer to jesu prva dva pisca koja padaju na pamet tokom čitanja, prvih tridesetak strana malo-malo pa sam morala da zatresem glavom jer mi se sve ukazivao "Avesalome, Avesalome". Posle se utisak razišao :)
Ovo je moćna knjiga, fenomenalno koncipirana i izvedena i onako lepo i bogato prevedena (poen za Taminu Šop) ali. nije. za. osetljive. Baš nije da je neko sklon depresiji čita u novembru. Ne samo što ima nasilja i mučenja (a šta ste očekivali od knjige o ministru u fašističkoj vladi) i maltretiranja potčinjenih svih vrsta, osobito žena (isto) nego ima i nečeg težeg. Kako da vam kažem... ja bih u ovaj blurb dodala i Tomasa Bernharda. Jer Lobo Antuneš mrzi ceo ljudski rod, ali više nego fašiste mrzi malograđane, a više nego malograđane mrzi malograđanke (ok, Bernhardu treba priznati da mrzi nepristrasno oba pola) i od bezbroj glasova koji se čuju u romanu najgrozniji i najkarikiraniji jesu njihovi glasovi. I jeste da povremeno ima pravih bisera crnog humora i satire, ali do njih treba da se gaca kroz ljudsku patnju i mržnju i momente od kojih se stomak prevrće. Pritom svi glasovi pričaju (bar po) dve stvari istovremeno, sadašnjost i prošlost se prepliću, svako vuče na svoju stranu i zna samo deo priče... i ono što je najstrašnije i najžalosnije jeste što do kraja knjige čitalac počne da žali sve te likove kao tužne, usamljene nesrećnike. I to izazivanje saučešća je zapravo pravi podvig autora jer su mu likovi odreda u rangu od nesimpatičnih do monstruoznih.
Vrhunski je ovo roman. Ali pazite kad i kako ga čitate (i neka vam pri ruci bude nešto utešno, neko ćebence, mačka, nešto. Trebaće).
Ovo je moćna knjiga, fenomenalno koncipirana i izvedena i onako lepo i bogato prevedena (poen za Taminu Šop) ali. nije. za. osetljive. Baš nije da je neko sklon depresiji čita u novembru. Ne samo što ima nasilja i mučenja (a šta ste očekivali od knjige o ministru u fašističkoj vladi) i maltretiranja potčinjenih svih vrsta, osobito žena (isto) nego ima i nečeg težeg. Kako da vam kažem... ja bih u ovaj blurb dodala i Tomasa Bernharda. Jer Lobo Antuneš mrzi ceo ljudski rod, ali više nego fašiste mrzi malograđane, a više nego malograđane mrzi malograđanke (ok, Bernhardu treba priznati da mrzi nepristrasno oba pola) i od bezbroj glasova koji se čuju u romanu najgrozniji i najkarikiraniji jesu njihovi glasovi. I jeste da povremeno ima pravih bisera crnog humora i satire, ali do njih treba da se gaca kroz ljudsku patnju i mržnju i momente od kojih se stomak prevrće. Pritom svi glasovi pričaju (bar po) dve stvari istovremeno, sadašnjost i prošlost se prepliću, svako vuče na svoju stranu i zna samo deo priče... i ono što je najstrašnije i najžalosnije jeste što do kraja knjige čitalac počne da žali sve te likove kao tužne, usamljene nesrećnike. I to izazivanje saučešća je zapravo pravi podvig autora jer su mu likovi odreda u rangu od nesimpatičnih do monstruoznih.
Vrhunski je ovo roman. Ali pazite kad i kako ga čitate (i neka vam pri ruci bude nešto utešno, neko ćebence, mačka, nešto. Trebaće).
October 17, 2020
I read this book aloud without stopping.
I will never understand why this author has not yet received the Nobel Prize for Literature.
His books are difficult to approach.
Antunes describes in this novel the human condition on the reality's side, that of a bloodthirsty and selfish beast. Great literature, a must-read.
I will never understand why this author has not yet received the Nobel Prize for Literature.
His books are difficult to approach.
Antunes describes in this novel the human condition on the reality's side, that of a bloodthirsty and selfish beast. Great literature, a must-read.
April 15, 2017
O ovome je baš teško pisati jer je nemoguće preneti utisak koji Antunešov stil ostavlja (tj. prevod Tamine Šop koji naprosto klizi, poslala bih joj cveće i bombonjeru). U svakom slučaju, ovo je niz od 19 poglavlja podeljenih na izveštaje i komentare: izveštaje pišu ili govore ili misle glavni junaci, dok komentare pišu ostali, kao nekakav korektiv istine koja je svakako vrlo problematična.
Rekla bih da je ovo istovremeno i omaž piscima poput Foknera i Džojsa, ali i izrazito lirski intoniran roman koji u nizu različito konstruisanih tokova svesti uspeva da održi vrlo jednostavan i tradicionalan model fabule: kako je propala diktatura, odnosno, kako je propao jedan čovek. Ono što je Salazaru bio Portugal, Fransišku, glavnom junaku, predstavlja farma na kojoj teroriše kuvarice, gavrane, pse, suprugu, sina, a najviše sebe. Postoji niz metonimija koje vezuju model farme za model portugalske diktature (papagaji koji ponavljaju da vole Salazara (ljudi), a potom crknu od te ljubavi; Mila kao nakaradni hibrid anahrone lične (kolektivne) istorije koju Fransiško patetično pokušava da oživi itd.), a ipak, ovo ne liči na satirični politički roman. Mene možda najviše podseća na Bernhardov obračun sa austrijskim fašizmom u Brisanju. Raspad, uz napomenu da je strukturno, ovo delo mnogo kompleksnije i izazovnije.
Meni se posebno dopada to što ne znamo kome se obraćaju svi ti ljudi, ko je taj (ti) inkvizitor(i) koji snimaju, ali bih rekla da je to Sadašnjost koja pokušava da se istoriografski razračuna sa prošlošću, a nužno završava u fiktivnom, konstruisanom - dobri stari postmodernizam (tačno se vidi da čitam Lindu Hačion xD)).
Naposletku, citat iz monologa majke devojke Mile koja podseća na Fransiškovu ženu koja ga je napustila, i koju majka gotovo prodaje ministru radi boljeg života (nasumično sam odabrala jer je sve povezano):
ali nisam ga se plašila jer sam znala da nema opasnosti da se matori okane moje ćerke, jer, čak i da ne ispuni ono što je obećao i ne oženi se njome, nastaviće da dolazi svakog ponedeljka i petka posle Ministarstva, sa svojim šeširom, cigarom i seljačkom odećom, lastiš-tregerima i strukom svadbenog narda, tako ceremonijalan i tužan, sešće kraj Mile milujući joj potiljak, vrat, ramena vlažnim prstima dok grad polako tone u mrak i ja ih gledam iz hodnika, gledam ih iz svoje sobe, gledam kako starkelja polaže glavu u krilo moje ćerke koja se osmehuje, trepće i klati se napred-nazad kao mrtva lutka
Rekla bih da je ovo istovremeno i omaž piscima poput Foknera i Džojsa, ali i izrazito lirski intoniran roman koji u nizu različito konstruisanih tokova svesti uspeva da održi vrlo jednostavan i tradicionalan model fabule: kako je propala diktatura, odnosno, kako je propao jedan čovek. Ono što je Salazaru bio Portugal, Fransišku, glavnom junaku, predstavlja farma na kojoj teroriše kuvarice, gavrane, pse, suprugu, sina, a najviše sebe. Postoji niz metonimija koje vezuju model farme za model portugalske diktature (papagaji koji ponavljaju da vole Salazara (ljudi), a potom crknu od te ljubavi; Mila kao nakaradni hibrid anahrone lične (kolektivne) istorije koju Fransiško patetično pokušava da oživi itd.), a ipak, ovo ne liči na satirični politički roman. Mene možda najviše podseća na Bernhardov obračun sa austrijskim fašizmom u Brisanju. Raspad, uz napomenu da je strukturno, ovo delo mnogo kompleksnije i izazovnije.
Meni se posebno dopada to što ne znamo kome se obraćaju svi ti ljudi, ko je taj (ti) inkvizitor(i) koji snimaju, ali bih rekla da je to Sadašnjost koja pokušava da se istoriografski razračuna sa prošlošću, a nužno završava u fiktivnom, konstruisanom - dobri stari postmodernizam (tačno se vidi da čitam Lindu Hačion xD)).
Naposletku, citat iz monologa majke devojke Mile koja podseća na Fransiškovu ženu koja ga je napustila, i koju majka gotovo prodaje ministru radi boljeg života (nasumično sam odabrala jer je sve povezano):
ali nisam ga se plašila jer sam znala da nema opasnosti da se matori okane moje ćerke, jer, čak i da ne ispuni ono što je obećao i ne oženi se njome, nastaviće da dolazi svakog ponedeljka i petka posle Ministarstva, sa svojim šeširom, cigarom i seljačkom odećom, lastiš-tregerima i strukom svadbenog narda, tako ceremonijalan i tužan, sešće kraj Mile milujući joj potiljak, vrat, ramena vlažnim prstima dok grad polako tone u mrak i ja ih gledam iz hodnika, gledam ih iz svoje sobe, gledam kako starkelja polaže glavu u krilo moje ćerke koja se osmehuje, trepće i klati se napred-nazad kao mrtva lutka
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May 1, 2023Kad sam završio Foknerovu Buku i bes, mislio sam da ove godine neću čitati romane toka svesti, ali na sreću to se nije desilo. Ova priča je takva da sam sebi u jednom trenutku rekao da je samo psihijatar mogao da je napiše, a Antuneš je to po zanimanju. Njegovi precizni opisi što duševnih stanja, što najstinijih, skoro neprimetnih pokreta tela, uvlače čitaoca u jednu gorku priču i imao sam osećaj da gledam neku seriju ili film. Oživotvorenost likova nas tera na poistovećivanje sa njima. Surovost života se oseti na svakoj stranici i sam naslov koji ukazuje na sadizam je sasvim opravdan. Jedna od stvari koja mi se ne sviđa u ovakvim delima je mešanje flešbekova i toka svesti, tj prošlosti i sadašnjosti, ali kad sam bolje razmislio to je verovatno potrebno radi postizanja određenih efekata kod čitalaca.
Priča prati sudbinu preko 10 likova koji su iz različitih miljea, a čije su sudbine nepovratno povezane, što me je podsetilo na Hakslijev Kontrapunkt. U centru je Salazarov ministar, tipičan diktatorski funkcioner, sadista, čovek koji je u suštini zasićen životom i traži objekte za svoja uglavnom seksualna iživljavanja. Kroz njega je opisan fašistički režim u Portugalu, da jedna želja moćnika menja život običnog čoveka, ne obazirući se ni na šta, ni na kakve vrednosti, prava...
U romanu se dobro vidi kako degradiranost pojedinca i uništavanje njegove moralne autonomije, dovodi do održavanja totalitarnog režima, kako jedna vlast stvara začarani krug zla strahom. Nema otpora nasilju, silovanjima, to je svakodnevica, u svesti tih ljudi je usađeno da je to uzaludno.
Ali iza sve te surovosti krije se Čovek, kakvo takvo, ali ljudsko biće sa svim svojim manama i vrlinama. Antuneš ih podrobno analizira, daje objašnjenja za njihove postupke i dosta likova nije manihejski prikazano.
Priča prati sudbinu preko 10 likova koji su iz različitih miljea, a čije su sudbine nepovratno povezane, što me je podsetilo na Hakslijev Kontrapunkt. U centru je Salazarov ministar, tipičan diktatorski funkcioner, sadista, čovek koji je u suštini zasićen životom i traži objekte za svoja uglavnom seksualna iživljavanja. Kroz njega je opisan fašistički režim u Portugalu, da jedna želja moćnika menja život običnog čoveka, ne obazirući se ni na šta, ni na kakve vrednosti, prava...
U romanu se dobro vidi kako degradiranost pojedinca i uništavanje njegove moralne autonomije, dovodi do održavanja totalitarnog režima, kako jedna vlast stvara začarani krug zla strahom. Nema otpora nasilju, silovanjima, to je svakodnevica, u svesti tih ljudi je usađeno da je to uzaludno.
Ali iza sve te surovosti krije se Čovek, kakvo takvo, ali ljudsko biće sa svim svojim manama i vrlinama. Antuneš ih podrobno analizira, daje objašnjenja za njihove postupke i dosta likova nije manihejski prikazano.
September 19, 2018
I’ve heard about The Inquisitors’ Manual from a number of my GR friends. They warned me that this wasn’t a book for the sensitive people. That is why I saved my read to September, the month when I usually feel harmonious and balanced, and the nature is melancholic but beautiful. Smart move, because it was a journey through a dark and unfavourable landscape.
Salazar’s Portugal is the world of dictatorship, corruption, torture and blood. Add lost love, incapability to love, abandoned children, abuse of women and plenty of evil and misery of all kinds, to get the picture of which subjects are brought up in the book. Not an easy read, thematically , and I disliked most of the characters yet cried tears for them.
Stylistically, it was brilliant and powerful writing. Several different narrators told the story in reports, minor characters filled out the gaps in commentaries. Change of perspective, playing with reality, cryptic and poetic language made all this book a unique experience. That being said I need to add that I’m not sure how much I got from the book, nor did I try too hard to understand everything. I simply went with the magnificent flow of beautiful words. I enjoyed the book as the melody and that’s maybe odd to state about a book of fallen humanity, but this is how it was for me.
I’m grateful to Tamina Šop, whose brilliant translation to Serbian made it possible for me to discover the book and the author.
Salazar’s Portugal is the world of dictatorship, corruption, torture and blood. Add lost love, incapability to love, abandoned children, abuse of women and plenty of evil and misery of all kinds, to get the picture of which subjects are brought up in the book. Not an easy read, thematically , and I disliked most of the characters yet cried tears for them.
Stylistically, it was brilliant and powerful writing. Several different narrators told the story in reports, minor characters filled out the gaps in commentaries. Change of perspective, playing with reality, cryptic and poetic language made all this book a unique experience. That being said I need to add that I’m not sure how much I got from the book, nor did I try too hard to understand everything. I simply went with the magnificent flow of beautiful words. I enjoyed the book as the melody and that’s maybe odd to state about a book of fallen humanity, but this is how it was for me.
I’m grateful to Tamina Šop, whose brilliant translation to Serbian made it possible for me to discover the book and the author.
September 1, 2025
Musste mich damals ziemlich durchkämpfen und hatte ein sehr erhabenes Gefühl als ich es (über einen sehr langen Zeitraum) dann endlich fertig gelesen hatte: das ist wahrhaft große Literatur, war mein Gedanke … habe zwar wenig verstanden und Spaß hat es auch nicht gerade gemacht aber ich konnte sagen: „Kennst du schon ALA? Der gewinnt sicher mal den Nobelpreis.“ der Andere: „nö noch nie gehört“, Ich: „musst du unbedingt lesen, sowas hast du noch nicht gesehen…“.
Wie ging es weiter: hab mir die nächste Neuerscheinung wieder besorgt, aber nach kurzem Anlesen, tauchte das Werk über die Zeit immer tiefer in die tiefsten Tiefen meiner (ungelesenen) Neuanschaffungen und heute nach mehr als 20 Jahren sage ich: ich werde es wieder irgendwann ausgraben, konzentriert lesen und ehrlicher mit mir selbst sein bei der Frage to like or not to like.
Aber der Eindruck dass es sich bei dieser Literatur um etwas ganz großes handelt, hat sichtief eingebrannt (vielleicht zu groß für meine beschränkten Leserfähigkeiten).
Wie ging es weiter: hab mir die nächste Neuerscheinung wieder besorgt, aber nach kurzem Anlesen, tauchte das Werk über die Zeit immer tiefer in die tiefsten Tiefen meiner (ungelesenen) Neuanschaffungen und heute nach mehr als 20 Jahren sage ich: ich werde es wieder irgendwann ausgraben, konzentriert lesen und ehrlicher mit mir selbst sein bei der Frage to like or not to like.
Aber der Eindruck dass es sich bei dieser Literatur um etwas ganz großes handelt, hat sichtief eingebrannt (vielleicht zu groß für meine beschränkten Leserfähigkeiten).
August 5, 2017
meu Deus como tudo é claro agora.
Everything is now clear. Or not. We are driven into the story of Francisco, a high ranking minister in the Salazar dictatorship who wants it all but things happen.
His wife Isabel leaves him. He pines for her and takes a mistress, Milá whom he dresses after his ex-wife. Gostas de mim não gostas Isabel? Creepy.
Politically he loses and he retreats to his farm remembering the days when the professor Salazar visited him. He remembers his past during the Carnation Revolution. THere are so many memories; so much time lost. Love and loss. The Angolan war. His farm with the cypress-treed lane. As the title suggests, an interrogation.
Chichi senhor doutor chichi quem fez um chichi lindo chem foi?
Francisco is not a nice man. Ambitious, cruel, harsh and driven. His son João is not like him. He treats women very poorly. He gets what he deserves. Maybe?
Morreu assim que tocou na calçada senhor ministro.
Francisco's life is recounted by many narratives. This is the poetic, cryptic and powerful language of Portugal's Antonio Lobo Antunes. To be honest, this is challenging material. Lobo Antunes divides the book into five chapters; within each chapter is a story (relato) and a commentary by others. His language jumps around and plays on repetitive sentence structures that makes the entire narrative possibly one of the most unique voices in literature. Similar and yet different to his companion Jose Saramago, it can evoke and puzzle you all at the same time. One needs to read passages out loud to clarify. To get the whole story, we need many voices. This is ambitious stuff but reading it I was mesmerized by the flow.
This is not a flattering view of this man and the people around him. It is a snapshot of a time in Portugal's history that changed completely. Francisco, or people like him were caught up and left out. Reality. Very much reality.
Without a doubt, Powerful stuff.
Everything is now clear. Or not. We are driven into the story of Francisco, a high ranking minister in the Salazar dictatorship who wants it all but things happen.
His wife Isabel leaves him. He pines for her and takes a mistress, Milá whom he dresses after his ex-wife. Gostas de mim não gostas Isabel? Creepy.
Politically he loses and he retreats to his farm remembering the days when the professor Salazar visited him. He remembers his past during the Carnation Revolution. THere are so many memories; so much time lost. Love and loss. The Angolan war. His farm with the cypress-treed lane. As the title suggests, an interrogation.
Chichi senhor doutor chichi quem fez um chichi lindo chem foi?
Francisco is not a nice man. Ambitious, cruel, harsh and driven. His son João is not like him. He treats women very poorly. He gets what he deserves. Maybe?
Morreu assim que tocou na calçada senhor ministro.
Francisco's life is recounted by many narratives. This is the poetic, cryptic and powerful language of Portugal's Antonio Lobo Antunes. To be honest, this is challenging material. Lobo Antunes divides the book into five chapters; within each chapter is a story (relato) and a commentary by others. His language jumps around and plays on repetitive sentence structures that makes the entire narrative possibly one of the most unique voices in literature. Similar and yet different to his companion Jose Saramago, it can evoke and puzzle you all at the same time. One needs to read passages out loud to clarify. To get the whole story, we need many voices. This is ambitious stuff but reading it I was mesmerized by the flow.
This is not a flattering view of this man and the people around him. It is a snapshot of a time in Portugal's history that changed completely. Francisco, or people like him were caught up and left out. Reality. Very much reality.
Without a doubt, Powerful stuff.
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March 16, 2025Fragmentaryczna, polifoniczna narracja, która płynie jak strumień świadomości – a może lepszym określeniem byłaby wielotemporalność? Przeskoki w czasie, mieszanie perspektyw i przeplatanie wspomnień z teraźniejszością sprawiają, że czytelnik zanurza się w kilkudziesięciu latach historii, czasem w obrębie jednego zdania.
Antunes buduje swoją opowieść na powracających frazach, które niczym echo wybrzmiewają w każdym rozdziale, podkreślając najważniejsze emocje i idee. To styl wymagający, ale hipnotyzujący. Jak w Chwale Portugalii, także tutaj autor stosuje narracyjny kalejdoskop, który dla jednych okaże się zbyt hermetyczny, dla innych – fascynującą literacką układanką. Jego sposób pisania można porównać do Fossego czy Evaristo, ale nie przez styl, a przez sposób angażowania czytelnika – wymaga intuicyjnego, skojarzeniowego odbioru, pełnego oddania się rytmowi prozy.
Na osi tej narracyjnej mozaiki rozpięta jest opowieść o dyktaturze Estado Novo – systemie, który przez dekady kształtował Portugalię i jej społeczeństwo. Śledzimy losy byłego oficera tajnej policji PIDE, człowieka, który był trybikiem w machinie opresji. W jego wspomnieniach odbija się przemoc, manipulacja i moralna pustka. Antunes nie daje łatwych odpowiedzi: czytamy o człowieku, który uosabia bezwzględność systemu, a jednocześnie – kimś, kto próbuje zmierzyć się z własną przeszłością i cieniem historii.
To nie tyle klasyczna powieść, co literacki labirynt, pełen aluzji do portugalskiej historii i psychologicznego studium władzy, sumienia oraz przemocy. Rewolucja Goździków w 1974 roku zakończyła dyktaturę, inicjując demokratyzację i dekolonizację, ale jej duchowe i społeczne konsekwencje nadal są odczuwalne.
Nie była to lektura łatwa – wymagała ode mnie zgłębienia kontekstu, powolnego układania elementów tej skomplikowanej układanki. Ale z każdą kolejną książką Antunesa Portugalia w mojej głowie staje się coraz bardziej wyrazista, a jego opowieści – cennym kluczem do zrozumienia jej historii. I za to jestem wdzięczny.
Antunes buduje swoją opowieść na powracających frazach, które niczym echo wybrzmiewają w każdym rozdziale, podkreślając najważniejsze emocje i idee. To styl wymagający, ale hipnotyzujący. Jak w Chwale Portugalii, także tutaj autor stosuje narracyjny kalejdoskop, który dla jednych okaże się zbyt hermetyczny, dla innych – fascynującą literacką układanką. Jego sposób pisania można porównać do Fossego czy Evaristo, ale nie przez styl, a przez sposób angażowania czytelnika – wymaga intuicyjnego, skojarzeniowego odbioru, pełnego oddania się rytmowi prozy.
Na osi tej narracyjnej mozaiki rozpięta jest opowieść o dyktaturze Estado Novo – systemie, który przez dekady kształtował Portugalię i jej społeczeństwo. Śledzimy losy byłego oficera tajnej policji PIDE, człowieka, który był trybikiem w machinie opresji. W jego wspomnieniach odbija się przemoc, manipulacja i moralna pustka. Antunes nie daje łatwych odpowiedzi: czytamy o człowieku, który uosabia bezwzględność systemu, a jednocześnie – kimś, kto próbuje zmierzyć się z własną przeszłością i cieniem historii.
To nie tyle klasyczna powieść, co literacki labirynt, pełen aluzji do portugalskiej historii i psychologicznego studium władzy, sumienia oraz przemocy. Rewolucja Goździków w 1974 roku zakończyła dyktaturę, inicjując demokratyzację i dekolonizację, ale jej duchowe i społeczne konsekwencje nadal są odczuwalne.
Nie była to lektura łatwa – wymagała ode mnie zgłębienia kontekstu, powolnego układania elementów tej skomplikowanej układanki. Ale z każdą kolejną książką Antunesa Portugalia w mojej głowie staje się coraz bardziej wyrazista, a jego opowieści – cennym kluczem do zrozumienia jej historii. I za to jestem wdzięczny.
May 7, 2022
Reflections in the wind
I have a little box of reinforcements in my desk drawer. You pull a strip out and all the round, white reinforcements are stuck on there in an endless row of circles. You can wish forever that one day you’ll pull the strip out a bit more and there will be a purple one, one the color of a ripe tangerine or one with a tiny picture of a jaguar on it, but no, they’re all white, boring, sitting there waiting for me to need them to fix the ripped holes of pages in a two-ring or three-ring folder. Reading THE INQUISITOR’S MANUAL is entirely a different kettle of fish. Different box of reinforcements? You read each page and different images flash by, endlessly poetic, sad, wonderful. You are glued to the page like a reinforcement (what is this hang-up I have today about reinforcements?). You don’t want to stop the flow of words, the flashing of dream-like pictures that, like a pointillist painting, slowly create lasting feelings of a crushed, injured family and those connected to one evil man, a Senhor Francisco. They are all destroyed in different ways by fascism, by the brutality of a regime and that man who supported it, who even advised Salazar. He let his ego run amok and, complicit in torture, murder, and jailing of countless unlucky citizens, eventually crashed to earth when the Revolution overtook Portugal. It is not Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony that you hear as the dictatorship collapses, it’s the running of rats in the attic and the near-moronic conversations of the feeble and demented. Yes, it's a dark novel.
If you thought the title would lead to some story about the Inquisition of long ago centuries, think again. It is a modern inquisition into what fascism can do to a society, what it does to all the people who have to live under it, and in particular, what it did to Portugal before 1974, and the effects it had even after that. Because if we inquire into life and history, we find that we are living with the deeds committed in the past, which as Faulkner said, is not even past. All the myriad pictures of Life, moving on the face of the Waters, reflect an ever-changing panorama of past and present. Their reflected shapes and colors never remain the same, they shift according to current, wind and the eyes with which you see them. The whole picture is a portrait, slowly, like the growing of mold in a closet, put together while you, fascinated by events, by personalities, and by the unbelievable skill of the author, continue reading unable to stop. Wives, girlfriends, sons, illegitimate daughters, lovers of illegitimate daughters, cops, servants, nurses, cooks, sons of servants, an obese imbecile---an endless parade of people pour their thoughts out to the author, who never reveals himself. Their thoughts are wildly interrupted at nearly every moment, by other thoughts. Reality is so irregular in just that way and that’s how Lobo Antunes writes this incredible novel, the story of a cruel, twisted fascist close to the top and all those who had the misfortune to work for him, be born to him, or attract his attention in any way. But it is not only about Portugal, it is the story of the corruption of power. The banality of evil, as Hannah Arendt put it, was never more perfectly illustrated than here. The inquisition must lead to an indictment in a reader’s mind. Senhor Francisco has all too many modern clones.
I have a little box of reinforcements in my desk drawer. You pull a strip out and all the round, white reinforcements are stuck on there in an endless row of circles. You can wish forever that one day you’ll pull the strip out a bit more and there will be a purple one, one the color of a ripe tangerine or one with a tiny picture of a jaguar on it, but no, they’re all white, boring, sitting there waiting for me to need them to fix the ripped holes of pages in a two-ring or three-ring folder. Reading THE INQUISITOR’S MANUAL is entirely a different kettle of fish. Different box of reinforcements? You read each page and different images flash by, endlessly poetic, sad, wonderful. You are glued to the page like a reinforcement (what is this hang-up I have today about reinforcements?). You don’t want to stop the flow of words, the flashing of dream-like pictures that, like a pointillist painting, slowly create lasting feelings of a crushed, injured family and those connected to one evil man, a Senhor Francisco. They are all destroyed in different ways by fascism, by the brutality of a regime and that man who supported it, who even advised Salazar. He let his ego run amok and, complicit in torture, murder, and jailing of countless unlucky citizens, eventually crashed to earth when the Revolution overtook Portugal. It is not Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony that you hear as the dictatorship collapses, it’s the running of rats in the attic and the near-moronic conversations of the feeble and demented. Yes, it's a dark novel.
If you thought the title would lead to some story about the Inquisition of long ago centuries, think again. It is a modern inquisition into what fascism can do to a society, what it does to all the people who have to live under it, and in particular, what it did to Portugal before 1974, and the effects it had even after that. Because if we inquire into life and history, we find that we are living with the deeds committed in the past, which as Faulkner said, is not even past. All the myriad pictures of Life, moving on the face of the Waters, reflect an ever-changing panorama of past and present. Their reflected shapes and colors never remain the same, they shift according to current, wind and the eyes with which you see them. The whole picture is a portrait, slowly, like the growing of mold in a closet, put together while you, fascinated by events, by personalities, and by the unbelievable skill of the author, continue reading unable to stop. Wives, girlfriends, sons, illegitimate daughters, lovers of illegitimate daughters, cops, servants, nurses, cooks, sons of servants, an obese imbecile---an endless parade of people pour their thoughts out to the author, who never reveals himself. Their thoughts are wildly interrupted at nearly every moment, by other thoughts. Reality is so irregular in just that way and that’s how Lobo Antunes writes this incredible novel, the story of a cruel, twisted fascist close to the top and all those who had the misfortune to work for him, be born to him, or attract his attention in any way. But it is not only about Portugal, it is the story of the corruption of power. The banality of evil, as Hannah Arendt put it, was never more perfectly illustrated than here. The inquisition must lead to an indictment in a reader’s mind. Senhor Francisco has all too many modern clones.
September 3, 2017
Ovo je jedno od onih pripovedanja u kojima ne smete da preskačete rečenice i pasuse, ne zato što ćete propustiti važne detalje i izgubiti se u daljoj priči, ne, priča je svakako jednostavna samo razbacana, već zato što je svaka rečenica tako bogata rečima, tako bogata opisima, tako bogata smislom, tako moćna i tako unikatna. Kakva ambicioznost, kakva megalomanska hrabrost da se ovako piše.
A ukoliko postoje ikakve dileme kako prepoznati dobro preveden roman, ma šta dobro- kako prepoznati savršeno preveden roman, ovo bi valjalo čitati na studijama jezika, davati na analizu svakom ko poželi da se bavi tim pozivom i frenetično i dugotrajno aplaudirati prevoditeljki koja je omogućila domaćoj publici da uživa u punokrvnosti kvaliteta ovog pripovedanja.
https://bezimenaknjizevnazadruga.word...
A ukoliko postoje ikakve dileme kako prepoznati dobro preveden roman, ma šta dobro- kako prepoznati savršeno preveden roman, ovo bi valjalo čitati na studijama jezika, davati na analizu svakom ko poželi da se bavi tim pozivom i frenetično i dugotrajno aplaudirati prevoditeljki koja je omogućila domaćoj publici da uživa u punokrvnosti kvaliteta ovog pripovedanja.
https://bezimenaknjizevnazadruga.word...
October 4, 2018
"O Manual dos Inquisidores" (1996) surpreendeu-me, agarrou-me desde o início e foi subindo em envolvimento até bem perto do final. Na forma, temos o virtuosismo imparável de ALA que não escreve histórias, modula mundos-história para os quais nos transporta. O tema é o Estado Novo, ou melhor, o povo português e a sua relação com a ditadura e seus principais atores, como via e sentia, como moldava os seus próprios seres e costumes na submissão àquela realidade política. Ajuda o facto de Antunes ter optado por um registo de comédia, ainda que muito negra, que contribui para criar um olhar distanciado sobre uma realidade muitas vezes imprópria para os mais sensíveis.
Começando pela forma, o mais impactante do livro tem que ver com a dimensão tempo que está praticamente ausente. Existe enquanto cronologia, marcos temporais que oferecem bóias a que nos podemos agarrar de tempos a tempos, mas os discursos surgem independentemente destes, podem começar num passado e a seguir já estarem no futuro, e depois no presente, trocam de lugar como quem sai de casa ou olha pela janela. E ao mesmo tempo, ainda que possa causar alguma fricção, não deixa de se conseguir assimilar, não deixa de conseguir fazer-nos sentir, porque os índices e os informantes, assim como as suas redundâncias, estão lá, são continuamente agitados por Antunes para nos manter no trilho, ou melhor, nos múltiplos trilhos. Porque Antunes não conta uma história, ele cria um universo com o seu texto, para onde nos transporta, nos faz viver e sentir, e encarrega-nos de decidir o que retirar da experiência. A moral, a lição, o mote da leitura da obra não é saber o que aconteceu a A ou B, não são as consequências ou os efeitos das causas, dos conflitos infligidos. Não é o fim, porque é o processo, porque é do processo que se cria mundo, mundo-história, que nos envolve e nos faz sentir naquela realidade, como se por lá tivéssemos passado, como se tudo fossem memórias guardadas, em parte esquecidas ou apagadas pelo tempo, fiapos de visões de uma realidade histórica, que para muitos de nós só faz parte do imaginário.
[imagem]
A obra de ALA nunca fala da Inquisição, e no entanto o título é uma alusão direta à mesma.
Mas não é só de forma que vive este livro de Antunes, é do muito que tem para dizer e do modo como indicia, desde o título aos personagens e seus adjetivos, o assunto que tem para revelar. Antunes parece com este livro querer dar uma aula a tantos portugueses que insistem em ver em Salazar e no seu tempo como o melhor de Portugal, como apesar da falta de liberdade, éramos tão mais felizes, e acima de tudo tínhamos um Estado rico. Antunes leva-nos pela mão até ao marco temporal do Estado Novo português, assistimos ao antes, depois e sua queda, vemos personagens do antes a viverem no depois, vemos as diferentes classes caricaturadas que formaram e ainda formam um povo. O ditador passa ao largo e ALA dá-o a sentir como se estivesse distante e ao mesmo tempo sempre presente. Se o título da obra quer ligar Salazar à Inquisição, não sou eu quem o questionará tal, e não podendo dizer melhor sobre a comparação, deixo um parágrafo de um artigo escrito para uma revista brasileira de Estudos em Literatura, por Melo (2008):
“Lobo Antunes toca na ferida e desmascara toda a mediocridade moral da sociedade portuguesa contemporânea ao relatar que, mesmo com toda a repressão e autoritarismo de uma ditadura que cerceou toda a liberdade civil e intelectual da nação, o submisso povo lusitano aceitou ou, como vimos, idolatrou o regime salazarista, personificado em Francisco. Sobre esta passividade de aceitação de uma autoritária administração, podemos traçar outro paralelo com a Inquisição, quando Saraiva argumenta que: ‘A actividade inquisitorial pôde exercer-se sem fortes reacções internas, porque não existia uma classe média com independência económica e mental, e também esta situação lhe é anterior.’ (Saraiva, 1993:132)” Melo, 2008
Nota: Francisco, é um dos principais protagonistas, no papel de um poderoso ministro de Salazar.
Publicado no VI: https://virtual-illusion.blogspot.com...
Começando pela forma, o mais impactante do livro tem que ver com a dimensão tempo que está praticamente ausente. Existe enquanto cronologia, marcos temporais que oferecem bóias a que nos podemos agarrar de tempos a tempos, mas os discursos surgem independentemente destes, podem começar num passado e a seguir já estarem no futuro, e depois no presente, trocam de lugar como quem sai de casa ou olha pela janela. E ao mesmo tempo, ainda que possa causar alguma fricção, não deixa de se conseguir assimilar, não deixa de conseguir fazer-nos sentir, porque os índices e os informantes, assim como as suas redundâncias, estão lá, são continuamente agitados por Antunes para nos manter no trilho, ou melhor, nos múltiplos trilhos. Porque Antunes não conta uma história, ele cria um universo com o seu texto, para onde nos transporta, nos faz viver e sentir, e encarrega-nos de decidir o que retirar da experiência. A moral, a lição, o mote da leitura da obra não é saber o que aconteceu a A ou B, não são as consequências ou os efeitos das causas, dos conflitos infligidos. Não é o fim, porque é o processo, porque é do processo que se cria mundo, mundo-história, que nos envolve e nos faz sentir naquela realidade, como se por lá tivéssemos passado, como se tudo fossem memórias guardadas, em parte esquecidas ou apagadas pelo tempo, fiapos de visões de uma realidade histórica, que para muitos de nós só faz parte do imaginário.
[imagem]
A obra de ALA nunca fala da Inquisição, e no entanto o título é uma alusão direta à mesma.
Mas não é só de forma que vive este livro de Antunes, é do muito que tem para dizer e do modo como indicia, desde o título aos personagens e seus adjetivos, o assunto que tem para revelar. Antunes parece com este livro querer dar uma aula a tantos portugueses que insistem em ver em Salazar e no seu tempo como o melhor de Portugal, como apesar da falta de liberdade, éramos tão mais felizes, e acima de tudo tínhamos um Estado rico. Antunes leva-nos pela mão até ao marco temporal do Estado Novo português, assistimos ao antes, depois e sua queda, vemos personagens do antes a viverem no depois, vemos as diferentes classes caricaturadas que formaram e ainda formam um povo. O ditador passa ao largo e ALA dá-o a sentir como se estivesse distante e ao mesmo tempo sempre presente. Se o título da obra quer ligar Salazar à Inquisição, não sou eu quem o questionará tal, e não podendo dizer melhor sobre a comparação, deixo um parágrafo de um artigo escrito para uma revista brasileira de Estudos em Literatura, por Melo (2008):
“Lobo Antunes toca na ferida e desmascara toda a mediocridade moral da sociedade portuguesa contemporânea ao relatar que, mesmo com toda a repressão e autoritarismo de uma ditadura que cerceou toda a liberdade civil e intelectual da nação, o submisso povo lusitano aceitou ou, como vimos, idolatrou o regime salazarista, personificado em Francisco. Sobre esta passividade de aceitação de uma autoritária administração, podemos traçar outro paralelo com a Inquisição, quando Saraiva argumenta que: ‘A actividade inquisitorial pôde exercer-se sem fortes reacções internas, porque não existia uma classe média com independência económica e mental, e também esta situação lhe é anterior.’ (Saraiva, 1993:132)” Melo, 2008
Nota: Francisco, é um dos principais protagonistas, no papel de um poderoso ministro de Salazar.
Publicado no VI: https://virtual-illusion.blogspot.com...
March 29, 2017
This is my third book by António Lobo Antunes. My third book of human depredation and horror. My third book of alienation and lost love. Unloved children ... corruption ... blood ... rutting in place of love.
Lobo Antunes paints a disturbing view of the world - but he never seems to get beyond what is real. He is always within reach of the believable. No matter how far he goes in his infernal travels, the reader, at least this reader, cannot get off. Human existence is always the topic of discussion.
The technique in The Inquisitors Manual is one of report and commentary by numerous witnesses to the events. Everyone has a point of view - everyone suffers. Everyone loses.
The topic is power and loss in the time of the Salazar dictatorship in Portugal. Power is abused. The central character, the Minister, takes everything he wants, brutally and sadistically. But he possesses none of it. The one thing he wants most, the love of his wife, escapes him.
And so he abuses the women around him ... treats them like slaves:
'"You there"
I'd make as if to escape too, heading to the pantry to hide among the pots of jam and sacks of rice, and Senhor Francisco would cross my path, with his cigarillo almost touching my nose
"Be still"
and it was me, not his wife, that he bent over the sink, me whom he grabbed by the hair as I pleaded
"Don't hurt me"
And then:
"You there"
a child I buried with my own hands down by the river, she and I sticky wet with each other, bleeding the same blood, it was me whose thighs Senhor Francisco wrenched open with his fingers, ordering
"Be still"
The inhumanity of power and frustration of power. And then comes the loss of power, complete loss of power:
'... my father who at night is dragged off to bed by two female staff workers in an agony of shuffling slippers
"Who's the good little boy who goes to bed when it's time for beddy-bye?"
they undo the string on his pajamas, unbutton his fly, place a bedpan under his scrawny legs, all bones and hair
"Time to go wee-wee, Senhor Francisco, time for wee-wee, come on, there you go, that's a good boy, tonight you're not going to be naughty and wet your nice clean sheets, are you?"'
"I do everything a woman wants except take my hat off, so she knows who's boss."
Humanity is what it is. Flesh and blood, sweat and urine and shit. We like to pretend that we are strong; that we are rational; that we are good. It's always a struggle. It's so easy to slip and fall into the muck we have made with our own bodies.
António Lobo Antunes describes a world that is much like that of Cormac McCarthy and Samuel Beckett, except it's more real. It's not really a work of the imagination. This is Dante's Inferno brought to the surface and made real.
I shall continue to read Lobo Antunes. I suppose I want to see his world, our human world, from all of the angles.
Lobo Antunes paints a disturbing view of the world - but he never seems to get beyond what is real. He is always within reach of the believable. No matter how far he goes in his infernal travels, the reader, at least this reader, cannot get off. Human existence is always the topic of discussion.
The technique in The Inquisitors Manual is one of report and commentary by numerous witnesses to the events. Everyone has a point of view - everyone suffers. Everyone loses.
The topic is power and loss in the time of the Salazar dictatorship in Portugal. Power is abused. The central character, the Minister, takes everything he wants, brutally and sadistically. But he possesses none of it. The one thing he wants most, the love of his wife, escapes him.
And so he abuses the women around him ... treats them like slaves:
'"You there"
I'd make as if to escape too, heading to the pantry to hide among the pots of jam and sacks of rice, and Senhor Francisco would cross my path, with his cigarillo almost touching my nose
"Be still"
and it was me, not his wife, that he bent over the sink, me whom he grabbed by the hair as I pleaded
"Don't hurt me"
And then:
"You there"
a child I buried with my own hands down by the river, she and I sticky wet with each other, bleeding the same blood, it was me whose thighs Senhor Francisco wrenched open with his fingers, ordering
"Be still"
The inhumanity of power and frustration of power. And then comes the loss of power, complete loss of power:
'... my father who at night is dragged off to bed by two female staff workers in an agony of shuffling slippers
"Who's the good little boy who goes to bed when it's time for beddy-bye?"
they undo the string on his pajamas, unbutton his fly, place a bedpan under his scrawny legs, all bones and hair
"Time to go wee-wee, Senhor Francisco, time for wee-wee, come on, there you go, that's a good boy, tonight you're not going to be naughty and wet your nice clean sheets, are you?"'
"I do everything a woman wants except take my hat off, so she knows who's boss."
Humanity is what it is. Flesh and blood, sweat and urine and shit. We like to pretend that we are strong; that we are rational; that we are good. It's always a struggle. It's so easy to slip and fall into the muck we have made with our own bodies.
António Lobo Antunes describes a world that is much like that of Cormac McCarthy and Samuel Beckett, except it's more real. It's not really a work of the imagination. This is Dante's Inferno brought to the surface and made real.
I shall continue to read Lobo Antunes. I suppose I want to see his world, our human world, from all of the angles.
Read
April 5, 2025Nie wiem jak ją ocenić, bo to była trudna przeprawa, ale sama książka niezwykle misterna i intrygująca. Coś niezwykłego
August 20, 2018
Knjiga koju sam zaista želela da uvrstim u favorite.
Mogu da razumem hvalospeve,
ovo je jedna od onih knjiga koju uzmeš i imaš osećaj da čitaš nešto veliko,značajno i uvuče te u taj osećaj posebnosti.
Ali iz ugla
jednog teškog minimaliste,
koji uvek voli kada se zaljubi u baroknu poetičnost - ceo tok naracije mi je bio vrlo odbojan.
Raskošan ali ne i bogat, nedovoljno fokusiran, neopipljiv.
Gotovo prečesto suvišan.
Kao i količina zareza u mom dosadašnjem tekstu.
Ovo što smatram manjkom je zaista subjektivno jer
iskreno, smatram da je knjiga izvrsno napisana i naracija joj vrlo priliči, Loboš se igra sa perspektivama,
proživaljavamo iste događaje iz različitih uglova, istina nam se daje kroz mnogostruke prizme, na kašiku, iz (ne)pouzdanih izvora koji nam ne otkrivaju svoje namere.
Žvot je mračan i konfuzan lavirint, ali ja volim svoj da očistim i da numerišem hodnike pošto sam smarač.
Loboš nije.
I pored toga, svima bih preporučila knjigu. I ako Vam se ne svidi toliko, dobićete nešto vredno.
Mogu da razumem hvalospeve,
ovo je jedna od onih knjiga koju uzmeš i imaš osećaj da čitaš nešto veliko,značajno i uvuče te u taj osećaj posebnosti.
Ali iz ugla
jednog teškog minimaliste,
koji uvek voli kada se zaljubi u baroknu poetičnost - ceo tok naracije mi je bio vrlo odbojan.
Raskošan ali ne i bogat, nedovoljno fokusiran, neopipljiv.
Gotovo prečesto suvišan.
Kao i količina zareza u mom dosadašnjem tekstu.
Ovo što smatram manjkom je zaista subjektivno jer
iskreno, smatram da je knjiga izvrsno napisana i naracija joj vrlo priliči, Loboš se igra sa perspektivama,
proživaljavamo iste događaje iz različitih uglova, istina nam se daje kroz mnogostruke prizme, na kašiku, iz (ne)pouzdanih izvora koji nam ne otkrivaju svoje namere.
Žvot je mračan i konfuzan lavirint, ali ja volim svoj da očistim i da numerišem hodnike pošto sam smarač.
Loboš nije.
I pored toga, svima bih preporučila knjigu. I ako Vam se ne svidi toliko, dobićete nešto vredno.
March 3, 2019
Exceptionally good. Highly recommended.
reviews if you are curious here:
https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/b...
https://www.nytimes.com/2003/03/02/bo...
Steven Moore review here: https://www.washingtonpost.com/archiv...
reviews if you are curious here:
https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/b...
https://www.nytimes.com/2003/03/02/bo...
Steven Moore review here: https://www.washingtonpost.com/archiv...
April 22, 2022
Нарација: мултифокална (више перспектива), симултана (укрштања хронотопа), алтернирајућа (смена приповедача кроз поглавља), вербозна, махнита и мрачна (незаустављива у одсуству тачака као blast beats у блек металу). Натуралистичка грубост. Лајтмотивске/рефренске реченице. Каталози. Вешто оркестрирано вишегласје (полиглосија) није полифонијско јер сви наратори говоре на исти начин (упоредити са Буком и бесом) и деле сличан тон: огорчен, осион, осоран, али и отужан. Постмодернизам се осећа управо у оваквом свепрожимајућем присуству ауторског стила који нас подсећа на фикционалност дела, поред ироничног наслова романа и загонетних назива његових делова, као и неидентификованог наратера. Ликови се не осете до краја (ово није full-scale психолошки роман), однешени су (или донешени) у френетичном темпу и навали набрајалица у којима се вртложи појавно и спољашње (било пејзажно, ентеријерско или екстеријерско). Оно, додуше, кореспондира са унутрашњим портретима, али ови остају више јаке, дубоко засенчене скице у угљу, него раскошно осликани цртежи. Уништени су тропи/тотеми готике, како књижевне тако и савремене, поткултурне (што му дође као лице и наличје прашњавог броша из неког заборављеног лагума) – жабе вриште, а гавранови бесне, а може бити да је у тако злочесту природу само пројектован дух времена, да је она одраз колектива, флека жамора гомиле која тавори у невреме. Природа је и жртва: загађење/екоцид на 33. стр. и касније затрпавање мочваре и тровање птица, као и злостављање паса. Читалац је згађен и (клеро)фашизмом и његовим заручницама – мизогинијом, расизмом, хомицидима, силовањима, педофилијом/ефебофилијом...
Како и да ли мултифокалност твори семиосферу остављам критичарима да измикроскопирају.
Будући читаоци не треба да очекују приказе различитих видова мучења попут набијања на колац код Андрића или касапљења из романа У мисо супи, али експлицитности постоје и прождиру сваку тананост лирског, па ко воли нек' изволи.
Како и да ли мултифокалност твори семиосферу остављам критичарима да измикроскопирају.
Будући читаоци не треба да очекују приказе различитих видова мучења попут набијања на колац код Андрића или касапљења из романа У мисо супи, али експлицитности постоје и прождиру сваку тананост лирског, па ко воли нек' изволи.
January 13, 2021
Varios tiempos narrativos convergen en esta novela, situada en un antes y un después, alrededor del parteaguas en la historia de Portugal: el gobierno del dictador António de Oliveira Salazar, que se extendió por más de tres décadas, de 1932 a 1968. De entre las voces, como la parvada burlona de cuervos en la vieja quinta de Palmela, irrumpen uno a uno los protagonistas y nos cuentan su historia, su papel en esta monografía o tal vez sería mejor llamarla radiografía, pues con mirada de rayos x, una capacidad narrativa punzante y fuera de serie, y un sentido de la forma agudo y profundo, António Lobo Antunes brilla en esta magnífica obra literaria que alcanza, como pocas, trascender las páginas, los diálogos, las descripciones, formando un todo impresionante, construido a base de una mirada que no solo observa, también digiere, devora (disección minuciosa donde cada detalle es visto casi con una lupa) y luego plasma, con verdadera maestría (las capas temporales van y vienen, como sucede en el subconsciente durante el sueño), siguiendo un acomodo impresionante, que fija sus propias reglas novedosas, con puntuación peculiar y una rítmica portentosa sostenida sólidamente desde la primera hasta la última línea.
¿Cuánto de lo que fue se lleva el viento nuevo? Como en aquellas partidas de ajedrez, donde el Señor ministro caprichosamente movía las piezas sin ningún orden, la mano temblando y anunciando ya el inevitable ocaso de una vida favorecida en su mayor parte, por los vientos políticos y su cercanía a Salazar. O como cuando vio en una joven el parecido a su esposa Isabel y la vistió así, fantasma que caminaba de una habitación a la otra, no entendiendo que es lo que representaba, con ese vestido, zapatos y adornos anticuados (y sin un telón anunciando en aquel teatro de la vida, en que momento la comedia humana comienza). Cada monólogo una pieza más en el tablero (incompleto, sobre el piano donde llovía...), que se va sumando a las otras, Primer Relato, Segundo Relato, Tercer Relato y los respectivos Comentarios intercalados en un ir y venir de anécdotas, episodios, visiones, donde los personajes narran, explican, aclaran y aportan. Y la quinta, que João describe en el primer capítulo (con más nostalgia que apego), y ya no es lo que algún día fue, bien podría ser una gran metáfora del país entero, Portugal desmembrado y dolido (buscando reinventarse a través de un futuro incierto), como también la dictadura, representa inequívocamente, todas las dictaduras en la faz de la tierra, desde el principio del tiempo. Así, la escritura -más bien la obra literaria acabada- se convierte en una ventana por donde se observa absolutamente todo.
Manual de Inquisidores es una obra maestra de narrativa contemporánea.
¿Cuánto de lo que fue se lleva el viento nuevo? Como en aquellas partidas de ajedrez, donde el Señor ministro caprichosamente movía las piezas sin ningún orden, la mano temblando y anunciando ya el inevitable ocaso de una vida favorecida en su mayor parte, por los vientos políticos y su cercanía a Salazar. O como cuando vio en una joven el parecido a su esposa Isabel y la vistió así, fantasma que caminaba de una habitación a la otra, no entendiendo que es lo que representaba, con ese vestido, zapatos y adornos anticuados (y sin un telón anunciando en aquel teatro de la vida, en que momento la comedia humana comienza). Cada monólogo una pieza más en el tablero (incompleto, sobre el piano donde llovía...), que se va sumando a las otras, Primer Relato, Segundo Relato, Tercer Relato y los respectivos Comentarios intercalados en un ir y venir de anécdotas, episodios, visiones, donde los personajes narran, explican, aclaran y aportan. Y la quinta, que João describe en el primer capítulo (con más nostalgia que apego), y ya no es lo que algún día fue, bien podría ser una gran metáfora del país entero, Portugal desmembrado y dolido (buscando reinventarse a través de un futuro incierto), como también la dictadura, representa inequívocamente, todas las dictaduras en la faz de la tierra, desde el principio del tiempo. Así, la escritura -más bien la obra literaria acabada- se convierte en una ventana por donde se observa absolutamente todo.
Manual de Inquisidores es una obra maestra de narrativa contemporánea.
September 18, 2019
I have discovered a new favourite author. Fantastic kaleidoscopic array of voices swirling around the end days of a deposed Minister from Salazar's dictatorship.
June 17, 2021
Da imam listu "10 najboljih knjiga koje sam pročitala", verovatno bih ovaj roman stavila na jedno od prva tri mesta.
May 31, 2025
Eu sou suspeita porque tenho tendência a gostar muito de romances ambientados no Portugal do Estado Novo, mas tenho uma experiência inconsistente com a obra do ALA: gosto muito de muitas crónicas, mas nunca consegui passar das primeiras páginas de "Os cus de Judas". Este Manual dos Inquisidores conquistou-me logo nas primeiras páginas: a narrativa polifónica, desregrada, as personagens tão reais, tão vivas, tão portuguesas, tão gente como todos nós. As personagens do ALA são sempre o eco mais profundo deste Portugal que era e que ainda é remediado e de vistas curtas. É uma obra de mão cheia e uma leitura voraz que recomendo muito.
September 13, 2023
Mulți l-au comparat pe extraordinarul scriitor portughez Antonio Lobo-Antunes (a cărui scriitură m-a impresionat chiar mai mult decît cea a lui Saramago) cu Faulkner și cu Joyce, probabil datorită faptului că întîlnim la toți trei aceeași narațiune discontinuată de fluxul conștiinței, dar mie romanul său Manualul inchizitorilor mi-a amintit mai ales de Llosa cu a lui Feast of the Goat (despre care am scris în engleză aici). Și aceasta nu numai pentru că regimul dictatorial al lui Rafael Leonidas Trujillo se aseamănă cu acela al profesorului Oliveira Salazar (la urma urmelor, cam toate dictaturile se aseamănă), ci mai ales pentru că istoria terorii se recreează în ambele romane fragmentar, din spusele unor martori care se completează sau se contrazic.
Desigur, asemănările se opresc aici. Cele cinci voci principale din Manualul inchizitorilor își amintesc, se repetă, încurcă planurile temporale, dezmint informațiile celorlalți, se justifică sau pur și simplu mistifică adevărul într-o învălmășeală de vorbe care sufocă auditoriul cu redundanțe, ticuri verbale, incoerențe, provocîndu-l să recompună firul narativ, dacă poate, dintr-o multitudine de cioburi împrăștiate peste tot. Mai mult, cele cinci „rapoarte”, compuse pentru niște „inchizitori” pe care cititorul îi bănuiește doar, pentru că nu pășesc niciodată în text, sînt întrerupte de comentarii și note ale altor personaje, la fel de confuze și de contradictorii.
Personajul în jurul căruia se țese, cu multe noduri și scăpări de ochiuri, cum spuneam, narațiunea, nu este Salazar, ci un ministru și apropiat al său, senhor Francisco, stăpînul moșiei Palmela, a cărui personalitate, în același timp grotescă și intimidantă, își pune amprenta asupra copiilor, servitorilor, amantelor.
Există, în capitolul al XIV-lea și ultimul, o scenă aparent fără legătură cu restul romanului, povestea morții unei deținute, o amintire de tinerețe a lui Francisco, care ar putea fi în același timp o ilustrare a aparatului represiv al dictaturii salazariene și o explicație a comportamentului brutal ulterior al personajului. Nu sînt sigură dacă asta e cheia de lectură, pentru că episodul flutură, cum spuneam, precar printre celelalte fire narative, cruzimea scenei completînd cinic acest manual al ororilor.
Romanul lui Lobo Antunes m-a făcut să răsfoiesc netul în căutarea mai multor informații despre Salazar, și uite-așa am dat peste o cărțulie publicată de Mircea Eliade în 1942, Salazar și Revoluția din Portugalia(cîteva note despre ea aici), un omagiu pios adus dictatorului, figură romantică și misterioasă „în pelerina lui neagră, de student, care-i atîrna pe umerii firavi, pînă aproape de călcîie”, căruia Portugalia îi datorează „măreția sa de astăzi” și care „a făcut din dictatură ceea ce făcuse pînă atunci din profesorat: un instrument de desăvîrșire morală și intelectuală a tinerelor generații”. Vă scutesc de alte citate la fel de exaltate, în contrast strident cu ceea ce se știe despre regimul salazarian, a cărui „desăvîrșire morală” s-a remarcat mai ales în reprimarea drepturilor civile și politice, în torturile în masă, în arestări, în fraude electorale, inițiative pe care istoricul român sau le-a justificat ca forme de apărare împotriva celor care voiau „să saboteze opera revoluției naționale” sau le-a ignorat pur și simplu, că de, nu se potriveau cu imaginea omului creator al unui „stat creștin și totalitar”, care „se întemeiază, înainte de toate, pe dragoste”.
Nu pot încheia fără să menționez excelenta lectură a Ginei Georgescu, a cărei voce mi-a ușurat călătoria prin desișul acestei narațiuni, uneori destul de încîlcit, întrucît, așa cum ne previne Dinu Flămînd în Prefață, „memoria fermentată” a personajelor „nu face nimic să-l cîștige pe cititorul superficial”.
Desigur, asemănările se opresc aici. Cele cinci voci principale din Manualul inchizitorilor își amintesc, se repetă, încurcă planurile temporale, dezmint informațiile celorlalți, se justifică sau pur și simplu mistifică adevărul într-o învălmășeală de vorbe care sufocă auditoriul cu redundanțe, ticuri verbale, incoerențe, provocîndu-l să recompună firul narativ, dacă poate, dintr-o multitudine de cioburi împrăștiate peste tot. Mai mult, cele cinci „rapoarte”, compuse pentru niște „inchizitori” pe care cititorul îi bănuiește doar, pentru că nu pășesc niciodată în text, sînt întrerupte de comentarii și note ale altor personaje, la fel de confuze și de contradictorii.
Personajul în jurul căruia se țese, cu multe noduri și scăpări de ochiuri, cum spuneam, narațiunea, nu este Salazar, ci un ministru și apropiat al său, senhor Francisco, stăpînul moșiei Palmela, a cărui personalitate, în același timp grotescă și intimidantă, își pune amprenta asupra copiilor, servitorilor, amantelor.
Există, în capitolul al XIV-lea și ultimul, o scenă aparent fără legătură cu restul romanului, povestea morții unei deținute, o amintire de tinerețe a lui Francisco, care ar putea fi în același timp o ilustrare a aparatului represiv al dictaturii salazariene și o explicație a comportamentului brutal ulterior al personajului. Nu sînt sigură dacă asta e cheia de lectură, pentru că episodul flutură, cum spuneam, precar printre celelalte fire narative, cruzimea scenei completînd cinic acest manual al ororilor.
Romanul lui Lobo Antunes m-a făcut să răsfoiesc netul în căutarea mai multor informații despre Salazar, și uite-așa am dat peste o cărțulie publicată de Mircea Eliade în 1942, Salazar și Revoluția din Portugalia(cîteva note despre ea aici), un omagiu pios adus dictatorului, figură romantică și misterioasă „în pelerina lui neagră, de student, care-i atîrna pe umerii firavi, pînă aproape de călcîie”, căruia Portugalia îi datorează „măreția sa de astăzi” și care „a făcut din dictatură ceea ce făcuse pînă atunci din profesorat: un instrument de desăvîrșire morală și intelectuală a tinerelor generații”. Vă scutesc de alte citate la fel de exaltate, în contrast strident cu ceea ce se știe despre regimul salazarian, a cărui „desăvîrșire morală” s-a remarcat mai ales în reprimarea drepturilor civile și politice, în torturile în masă, în arestări, în fraude electorale, inițiative pe care istoricul român sau le-a justificat ca forme de apărare împotriva celor care voiau „să saboteze opera revoluției naționale” sau le-a ignorat pur și simplu, că de, nu se potriveau cu imaginea omului creator al unui „stat creștin și totalitar”, care „se întemeiază, înainte de toate, pe dragoste”.
Nu pot încheia fără să menționez excelenta lectură a Ginei Georgescu, a cărei voce mi-a ușurat călătoria prin desișul acestei narațiuni, uneori destul de încîlcit, întrucît, așa cum ne previne Dinu Flămînd în Prefață, „memoria fermentată” a personajelor „nu face nimic să-l cîștige pe cititorul superficial”.
August 27, 2023
This novel very effectively peels back the layers of Portugal under Salazar and immediately post-Salazar. It is Portugal through and through (or as much as I can surmise it to be not being myself a native), but the struggles of the characters within can apply to citizens of any country either that is under direct oppression or deals with serious class disparity (namely, all of them).
What I’m saying is that power and authority, and the abuse of both is universal and has touched most of us in some way regardless of what period of time we have lived in. And the author does a masterful job of illustrating this theme in the context of Portugal, the pain and suffering brought to its people in all of its various forms, the paranoia inherent in an oppressed society, the spurned hopes and dreams of so many men and women (especially women) spurned through enforced submission.
The most powerful part of the novel to me was seeing the futility of it all; how unnecessary all this suffering was, and how fleeting all this power really is. The degeneration of the central character and the regime he represents into irrelevance is particularly upsetting to me, not for their sake but for that of the lives they ruined. Reminds me of Shelley’s Ozymandias, or García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. Definitely Faulknerian in narration as well. This was an enjoyable and moving read.
What I’m saying is that power and authority, and the abuse of both is universal and has touched most of us in some way regardless of what period of time we have lived in. And the author does a masterful job of illustrating this theme in the context of Portugal, the pain and suffering brought to its people in all of its various forms, the paranoia inherent in an oppressed society, the spurned hopes and dreams of so many men and women (especially women) spurned through enforced submission.
The most powerful part of the novel to me was seeing the futility of it all; how unnecessary all this suffering was, and how fleeting all this power really is. The degeneration of the central character and the regime he represents into irrelevance is particularly upsetting to me, not for their sake but for that of the lives they ruined. Reminds me of Shelley’s Ozymandias, or García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. Definitely Faulknerian in narration as well. This was an enjoyable and moving read.
June 29, 2010
My first contribution to goodreads... I picked the last novel I've read that really wowed me.
I'd heard about Antunes from a number of people; this is the first novel I've read. Stylistically brilliant, and clearly the work of a master empathist. Postmodern techniques that I've seen many authors wear like expensive suits are the ink in his pen. The theme is weighty -- tyranny, on a large and a small scale, so not an easy book to read. I at first winced at the comparisons to Faulkner printed on the book's jacket, but he's earned them, in my opinion. Can't wait to read more of his work, and can't believe it took me this long to find my way to him : ) Highly recommended, though were I to loan this to someone I'd warn them that the journey will be one through dark places. Be prepared to navigate by touch alone, and watch out for sharp corners.
I'd heard about Antunes from a number of people; this is the first novel I've read. Stylistically brilliant, and clearly the work of a master empathist. Postmodern techniques that I've seen many authors wear like expensive suits are the ink in his pen. The theme is weighty -- tyranny, on a large and a small scale, so not an easy book to read. I at first winced at the comparisons to Faulkner printed on the book's jacket, but he's earned them, in my opinion. Can't wait to read more of his work, and can't believe it took me this long to find my way to him : ) Highly recommended, though were I to loan this to someone I'd warn them that the journey will be one through dark places. Be prepared to navigate by touch alone, and watch out for sharp corners.
August 18, 2020
Someone recently asked me if writers were evolutionary, I assume meaning that they continue to evolve. I think that suggests evolve and improve. Antunes would have to improve on South of Nowhere and Fado Alexandrino. Instead he's evolved styles to accommodate a relentlessly bleak view of civilization, the depredations of power, the utter scourging of humanity by perverse exchanges. This example provides story after story, insight after insight, misfortune after misfortune, life after ruined life.
June 18, 2025
Senhor Francisco, a trusted minister working for Prime Minister Salazar, marries the beautiful Isabel. A few years later, Isabel runs off with her lover, abandoning her young son João.
"I do everything a woman wants except take my hat off, so that she won't forget who's boss."
Senhor Francisco, believing he would succeed Salazar as Prime Minister of Portugal, plans a coup after a younger man was named Salazar’s successor.
“…building a boat so that I could depart one day instead of ending up like my father in the stable, facedown in a pool of urine and feces and vainly groping on all fours for the exit
‘Shoot’”
João’s marriage to Sophia comes to an end and he loses the family farm in Setúbal in the divorce.
"Are you a moron, young man, or are you just pretending?"
Divided into sections labeled “commentary” and “report”, the personal accounts in the novel bears a similarity to the information collected from interviews by surveillance officers. As during the dictatorship of Salazar, this information on average citizens would then be analyzed by party officials and stored away for later use.
“…please tell my idiotic son who doesn't know how to manage his affairs or take care of himself, a good-for-nothing, a washout, a kid who's afraid of the dark, afraid of gypsies, afraid of wolves, afraid of burglars, tell my idiotic son
how can I say this, how can I make it clear, please tell my idiotic son that I may not have been but that, tell him that I may have made mistakes but that, tell my idiotic son, do you hear, tell my idiotic son please don't forget to tell my idiotic son that in spite of
everything I”
"I do everything a woman wants except take my hat off, so that she won't forget who's boss."
Senhor Francisco, believing he would succeed Salazar as Prime Minister of Portugal, plans a coup after a younger man was named Salazar’s successor.
“…building a boat so that I could depart one day instead of ending up like my father in the stable, facedown in a pool of urine and feces and vainly groping on all fours for the exit
‘Shoot’”
João’s marriage to Sophia comes to an end and he loses the family farm in Setúbal in the divorce.
"Are you a moron, young man, or are you just pretending?"
Divided into sections labeled “commentary” and “report”, the personal accounts in the novel bears a similarity to the information collected from interviews by surveillance officers. As during the dictatorship of Salazar, this information on average citizens would then be analyzed by party officials and stored away for later use.
“…please tell my idiotic son who doesn't know how to manage his affairs or take care of himself, a good-for-nothing, a washout, a kid who's afraid of the dark, afraid of gypsies, afraid of wolves, afraid of burglars, tell my idiotic son
how can I say this, how can I make it clear, please tell my idiotic son that I may not have been but that, tell him that I may have made mistakes but that, tell my idiotic son, do you hear, tell my idiotic son please don't forget to tell my idiotic son that in spite of
everything I”
Read
June 24, 2016Recommended. I'd be curious to hear what other people think. It didn't quite hit home for me, but then sometimes I think I've lost the ability to read novels.
I'd like to say something more interesting than just calling it Faulknerian, but well... it really was a bit like Faulkner.
Incontinence and cuckoldry, the things a man can never live down.
I'd like to say something more interesting than just calling it Faulknerian, but well... it really was a bit like Faulkner.
Incontinence and cuckoldry, the things a man can never live down.
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