The Anarchist Banker: and Other Portuguese Stories

by Eugénio Lisboa (Editor)

This is the first of a two-volume selection of short fiction from Portugal, drawing on late-19th and 20th-century novellas and stories. The text concentrates on writing from before World War II. Included are: Eca de Queiros's "The Idiosyncrasies of a Young Blonde Woman"; Antonio Patricio's "Suze"; Fernando Pessoa's "The Anarchist Banker"; Irene Lisboa's "The Lover"; and Jose Rodrigues Migueis's "Leah".

Genres: Portugal, Travel, Nonfiction

218 pages, Paperback

First published October 1, 1996

Reviews

[Faye]

Enjoyed the stories in this compilation as they brought back memories of a family trip that included lovely Lisbon. There was a certain fatalism and wonderful characters in every story. Such wonderful characters that they brought back the many I knew when growing up in rural New England. For some reason I found myself wondering about what an authentic life looks and feels like? Do I live one myself? My favorite story was "The Anarchist Banker" which read like a philosopher's thought experiment. These short stories are so great, they will make you want to write one yourself!!

[Jonathan]

The stories were wonderful and interesting. All love stories really, they had the same sort of structure as other European short story writers I love, like Maughm or Wilde or Maupassant, but with that desperate fatalism that seemed to touch everything coming out of Portugal at the time. An excellent companion book to traveling the country.

[Jordyn]

Its always difficult to rate short story collections, especially anthologies by different authors. Some stories I liked better than others.

[Jack]

An uneven collection of charming, befuddling and confusing, wistful, funny, and touching stories.

"The Madonna of the Graveyard" would be the one to skip, a baroque fever dream stream of consciousness that I stumbled through only after drifting off into at least two naps.

Several stories seem to capture the characteristic Portugese "saudade", distilling a deep pained nolstagia and longing that seems to be at the heart of of Portugal's collective soul. Whatever the "Madonna" story was about, at least it painted this crimson and violet emotional atmosphere. "Suze", another concoction of love and death, paints with the same hues and themes.

Similarly melancholic but perhaps less morbid are "the lover" (think pretty woman set in cafe society Portugal), and "Leah", essentially a beautiful extended missed connections classified from a lonely man. "They used to go for long walks on Sundays" is a tie for my favorite along with "Leah", telling a genuinely sad story of modest hopes dashed.

Lastly, the collection strikes a few comedic notes. "The Idiosyncrasies of a Young Blonde" makes fun of the earnestness and moralism of the clerical middle class, but at the same time clearly harbors a sympathy for the same sensibility. The eponymous "Anarchist Banker" is more out of character from the others in the collection, an savage absurdist satire of bourgeois hypocrisy that is actually a rollicking good laugh.

[Donald Schopflocher]

Recommended for tourists to Portugal, this collection of stories, newly translated but written in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, consists mainly of stories about thwarted lovers. They present the contrasts between rich and poor, privileged and under privileged, and satirize social conventions, often with gentle humour and particularly astute descriptions of dress and manners. The title story is an exception, being an extended, almost philosophical, argument in favour of unbridled capitalism and its ironic equivalency to anarchy. Altogether, perhaps a good way to begin to understand saudade, long highlighted as part of the Portuguese national character.

[Mike Gottschalk]

Favorite stories:
— The Idiosyncrasies of a Young Blonde Woman
— Suze
— The Anarchist Banker
— They Used to Go for Long Walks on Sundays
— Léah

[Tracy]

I am not gonna lie, I was mainly interested in the short story The Anarchist Banker written by Fernando Pessoa and unfortunately, I did not expect to be the victim of what we call in french a tunnel.