MÁRCIA MEIRA BASTO
ENGLISH
TEXTS
TEXT
DESEJOS & HISTÓRIAS – (DESIRES AND STORIES)
On the cover of her book, Márcia states the following about the craft of writing: Writing is not optional: it’s like breathing, thinking or feeling. On reading my novel, I experienced a tremendous melancholic pain, like the feeling of nostalgia for irrecoverable losses. Unlike the anguished pain that tears me apart while I, wandering through the memories of my life and acquisitions, estrange myself from myself and my world, in a disintegrated form, to textualize momentary, escaped realities. To read what was born of me provoked a new embarrassment : of screaming blood, responding to a fistful of fright from an unexpected slap across the face. Now that the novel is published, I no longer feel I am a writer. There’s no relief even. I ask you (permit me to confess – even knowing that I may deceive or irritate – that I have no answers to anything: merely an immensity of doubts, bound up inside never-ending questions): isn’t what makes a writer the total dependence on writing? Her compulsion to create, invent and understand?
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
The thing that lasts uninterruptedly is the ‘always’ of what is. What is my ‘always’? The ‘always’ of the untouched, or the least perceived, is the same as nothing: it remains hollow, empty. But it acquires an exterior consistency. This solid is only for the other.
What you have of mine is my nothing materialized in your projects and dreams. Yes, you have been filling all my emptiness with happenings which are only yours. So, I transformed myself into a screen or mirror, in which you show the film of your life. I am in it. Or rather, I am it. But I do not participate, I do not enter your belongings. Can you understand? I confess that I’ve never managed.
What I am has remained without worth, since nobody has got it or perceived it. That’s why it has been wilting, wilting, like a premature creature – so malnourished that it doesn’t seem to take on. Thus, I am malnourished inside, despite the crowned, baroque covering. On the outside, mine is from the first world. A carcass that has stuffed itself with sweets from the pure tediousness of knowing how to possess the power of transforming desires, in the irresponsible free taste of chocolate ice-cream with caramel sauce, confronting the challenge of being anti-Marilyny Mo, anti-heroine, anti-star.
(a fragment from one of the tales in Desejos & Histórias).
Desejos & Histórias – the author’s first prize-winning book, was published in 1988 by the Secretaria de Cultura da Cidade do Recife.
MARION
In the presentation of the novel MARION, Joana Cavalcanti says: “Marion is much more than just words and ink on a page. However, I should never present this book by Márcia Meira Basto by merely reducing it to the technical elements of which the book is composed. I see Marion as being within the universe of the sacred. Of absent things that move the world from the inside out. Marion is a woman in the femininity of her fragility. Human in her totality. She lives in the time of everything which is nothing, and because of this presence lives in the pulsating text. We are able to touch Marion’s soul. Singular in her difference, feminine in her imprecise, intangible soul.”
Marion was launched in 1999 by Cia. Pacífica.
AMAR ELOS VERMELHOS – (LOVING RED LINKS)
Loving links, opening the door through which the whiteness of the Girl invades the redness that bleeds from the body of the Woman. Yellows that merge, for ever, the Girl and the Woman in the light that fills the inside of the house of infancy. Without avidity, expectations or remembrances, it was written within the devoted, surrendering look of a dog. Accepting. Without question, neither beauty, nor the solemnity or succulence of pulp and summers. It was written in the nothingness, on the floor, on the stationary flight of a humming bird. In the coagulated blood of a dream in old age. In dementia. Laziness. Disrobing each word from the softness of the skin, penetrating itself into the concreteness of the pip. White/Whiteness/Whitish liberating me from the fetters of loving links (of the girl) and red ones (of the woman), bringing me the silence of the world.
Receiving the Lucilo Varejão Award from the Conselho Municipal de Cultura, “Amar elos vermelhos” was launched in 2004 by the City Council of Recife, through the Fundação de Cultura Cidade do Recife
CLARICE,CLAREAR – O LEITOR DE SI MESMO EM CLARICE LISPECTOR
(CLARICE, ENLIGHTENS – THE READER AS HER/HIMSELF IN CLARICE LISPECTOR)
In the words of Fátima Quintas, who provided the preface for this work, Márcia investigates a Clarice with the taste of the philosophical, dense, labyrinthian, ample in perspectives through the profound study of the associations of ideas that go sweeping through the interior and on to the circularity of an ontological vision. Something spiraling that starts out from the Goethean anguish to the appeals of an apparently daily routine. Creating cuts and clippings, ascents and descents, sinuosity and parallel pathways the author compiles a vertical search, from the very smallest detail through to the deepest immensity of what is called existence. Throughout the entire course of the text the lyricism of Márcia Basto bubbles, in such a manner as to confuse the origin of the writer — Clarice or Márcia?
DESEJOS & HISTÓRIAS – (DESIRES AND STORIES)
On the cover of her book, Márcia states the following about the craft of writing: Writing is not optional: it’s like breathing, thinking or feeling. On reading my novel, I experienced a tremendous melancholic pain, like the feeling of nostalgia for irrecoverable losses. Unlike the anguished pain that tears me apart while I, wandering through the memories of my life and acquisitions, estrange myself from myself and my world, in a disintegrated form, to textualize momentary, escaped realities. To read what was born of me provoked a new embarrassment : of screaming blood, responding to a fistful of fright from an unexpected slap across the face. Now that the novel is published, I no longer feel I am a writer. There’s no relief even. I ask you (permit me to confess – even knowing that I may deceive or irritate – that I have no answers to anything: merely an immensity of doubts, bound up inside never-ending questions): isn’t what makes a writer the total dependence on writing? Her compulsion to create, invent and understand?
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
The thing that lasts uninterruptedly is the ‘always’ of what is. What is my ‘always’? The ‘always’ of the untouched, or the least perceived, is the same as nothing: it remains hollow, empty. But it acquires an exterior consistency. This solid is only for the other.
What you have of mine is my nothing materialized in your projects and dreams. Yes, you have been filling all my emptiness with happenings which are only yours. So, I transformed myself into a screen or mirror, in which you show the film of your life. I am in it. Or rather, I am it. But I do not participate, I do not enter your belongings. Can you understand? I confess that I’ve never managed.
What I am has remained without worth, since nobody has got it or perceived it. That’s why it has been wilting, wilting, like a premature creature – so malnourished that it doesn’t seem to take on. Thus, I am malnourished inside, despite the crowned, baroque covering. On the outside, mine is from the first world. A carcass that has stuffed itself with sweets from the pure tediousness of knowing how to possess the power of transforming desires, in the irresponsible free taste of chocolate ice-cream with caramel sauce, confronting the challenge of being anti-Marilyny Mo, anti-heroine, anti-star.
(a fragment from one of the tales in Desejos & Histórias).
Desejos & Histórias – the author’s first prize-winning book, was published in 1988 by the Secretaria de Cultura da Cidade do Recife.
MARION
In the presentation of the novel MARION, Joana Cavalcanti says: “Marion is much more than just words and ink on a page. However, I should never present this book by Márcia Meira Basto by merely reducing it to the technical elements of which the book is composed. I see Marion as being within the universe of the sacred. Of absent things that move the world from the inside out. Marion is a woman in the femininity of her fragility. Human in her totality. She lives in the time of everything which is nothing, and because of this presence lives in the pulsating text. We are able to touch Marion’s soul. Singular in her difference, feminine in her imprecise, intangible soul.”
Marion was launched in 1999 by Cia. Pacífica.
AMAR ELOS VERMELHOS – (LOVING RED LINKS)
Loving links, opening the door through which the whiteness of the Girl invades the redness that bleeds from the body of the Woman. Yellows that merge, for ever, the Girl and the Woman in the light that fills the inside of the house of infancy. Without avidity, expectations or remembrances, it was written within the devoted, surrendering look of a dog. Accepting. Without question, neither beauty, nor the solemnity or succulence of pulp and summers. It was written in the nothingness, on the floor, on the stationary flight of a humming bird. In the coagulated blood of a dream in old age. In dementia. Laziness. Disrobing each word from the softness of the skin, penetrating itself into the concreteness of the pip. White/Whiteness/Whitish liberating me from the fetters of loving links (of the girl) and red ones (of the woman), bringing me the silence of the world.
Receiving the Lucilo Varejão Award from the Conselho Municipal de Cultura, “Amar elos vermelhos” was launched in 2004 by the City Council of Recife, through the Fundação de Cultura Cidade do Recife
CLARICE,CLAREAR – O LEITOR DE SI MESMO EM CLARICE LISPECTOR
(CLARICE, ENLIGHTENS – THE READER AS HER/HIMSELF IN CLARICE LISPECTOR)
In the words of Fátima Quintas, who provided the preface for this work, Márcia investigates a Clarice with the taste of the philosophical, dense, labyrinthian, ample in perspectives through the profound study of the associations of ideas that go sweeping through the interior and on to the circularity of an ontological vision. Something spiraling that starts out from the Goethean anguish to the appeals of an apparently daily routine. Creating cuts and clippings, ascents and descents, sinuosity and parallel pathways the author compiles a vertical search, from the very smallest detail through to the deepest immensity of what is called existence. Throughout the entire course of the text the lyricism of Márcia Basto bubbles, in such a manner as to confuse the origin of the writer — Clarice or Márcia?
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