Os vitrais da sala à prova de som: Como foi escrito o Capítulo Quatro, de “Os vitrais da sala à prova de som”, acompanhe aqui o making of

terça-feira, 7 de junho de 2011

Como foi escrito o Capítulo Quatro, de “Os vitrais da sala à prova de som”, acompanhe aqui o making of

Um dos personagens, parte da persona que se dissolve no ataúde lacrado, é Wilson. E o Capítulo Quatro serve para introduzi-lo. Aos poucos o leitor complementará suas nuances, que as pinceladas iniciais o desenham como filho de um ambiente cheio de carinho, afeto, mas visto do lado de fora, pelos padrões convencionais como um antro de putaria. Sua mãe, prostituta, o entrega no leito da morte para um pai que ele nunca tinha visto antes. Ao longo deste mesmo capítulo o acompanhamos quase que numa trajetória completa do puteiro ao internato do internato ao quartel. “Durante o golpe militar vê a oportunidade de acelerar suas divisas” é a senha para que se torne um torturador que oferece as oportunidades que o regime oferece com suas recompensas e impunidade. Wilson, como todos os torturadores, porteiros de prédio, soldados de polícia que se tornaram autoritários ao se aproveitar do regime, são frutos amargos e indigestos da época. Aos éramos obrigados a engolir porque o sistema político, a falta de liberdades democráticas, a indiferença da sociedade civil os tornavam legítimos algozes do cidadão comum e carrascos dos presos políticos ou presos comuns que lhes caíam nas mãos. Aliás, os presos comuns continuam a ser torturados até hoje. Mas são pobres ou criminosos dos mais variados níveis. E, portanto, a sociedade civil continua indiferente aos seus dramas e decomposição em vida.

Obrigado por acompanhar meu esforço de desenhar o making of de “Os vitrais da sala à prova de som”. Se inscreva ao lado se quiser receber a continuidade destes textos.

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The Stained Glass Windows of the Soundproof Room

AUTHOR: Marco Roza (marcoroza@gmail.com)

IRON UNDER THE FINGERNAILS: DICTATORSHIP, THE DISMEMBERING OF THE INDIVIDUAL

Nei Duclós*

Invasion of privacy means treating everyone like a terrorist. Today, we have proof of this, when the digital universe lends itself to imperial espionage. The difference is that we are now in the time of industrial espionage, while the years of lead in Brazil were more those of manual action. Instead of bits and bytes, iron and fingernails.

The fundamental difference, however, is that no invasive action that is limited to language, messages and phone calls compares to what was done in the dark cellars of the dictatorship, when not only words, but also bodies, were kidnapped. In the case of the novel “The Stain Glass Windows of the Bulletproof Room,” by Marco Roza, it is the entire body, from the entrails to the skin. Torture, practiced under the alibi of repressing and preventing crimes against the government, performed an autopsy on still living beings, which lost all sense of boundary outside and within, the difference between the being and the death certificate.

How does literature approach such an event; how to deal with the tragedy? A traditional narrative would focus on the alienation, since it would be based on irremovable perceptions, consensual borders, spoken agreements. One must be loyal to the dismemberment, something Marco Roza does with a coroner’s efficiency. The dictatorship destroyed the individual, but not his clues, his traces left behind. The organs float around in a nightmarish environment, exposed to the reader like a horrific funeral, transparent and without logical connections. In this book, the narrator himself is part of this cutting apart and is split into 134 sliced portions of texts, which weave through the monologues of the individuals subjected to terror, both as victims as well as torturers of others and of themselves.

Accurately portraying what indeed happened implies this radical appropriation of an uncompromised literature, developed as syncopes, as if it were also the result of a pain inflicted for an indeterminate period of time, eternal, since its outcome already includes death. However, death, so true, brutal, becomes forcefully apparent, since the spirits wander about with their legacies of misery to try and recover that which was irredeemably dissolved. From this process sprouts all moods, sweats, remains, bleeding, excrements, fears, anxieties, pleasures and hopes coming from those who once were individuals and who fell apart at being submitted to that evil sealed away in a coffin resting right at the core of transparency.

The characters see one another and shift roles, cross one another in intense sessions of interrogations, escape to memories that come back to them in rawer states, try to express what the torture buried away in them forever. However the reality, or the final touch, in this confused arena that still nourishes some hope, is the casket of impenetrable content. The painful clarity of the narrative trips over the darkness of what was imposed. The dictatorship wins and the characters are only able to escape when they transcend the dead-end they find themselves up against. They then find a changed country, indifferent to the combatant’s luck, so oblivious to that which was buried in a remote place.

The stain glass windows of the exposed pain, in conflict with the darkness of the coffin laying right in the center of the room where the victims’ language dominates, and the spine of this book that brings together the screams of those whose who are not longer with us and who at the same time reveal their own spoil. Indeed, here literature does not focus on a play of appearances under custody, which remain in the imaginary imposed by countless languages, both corporate as well as political, cultural and religious. The intent is to recover the lost profile of a history so brutally murdered and which is exposed to manipulations of all sorts. And which uses the power of literature to remove the criminal lining of those who still try to hide it.

* Nei Duclós is a writer with nine books published, as well as four e-books in the genres of poetry, romance, history, children's literature, short stories and chronicles. He also has two unpublished works of essays about literature and cinema. A journalist since 1970, he has worked at the newspaper Folha de São Paulo, the magazines Brasil 21, Senhor and IstoÉ, among other publications. He earned a B.A. in History from the University of São Paulo and currently resides in Florianópolis, SC

terça-feira, 7 de junho de 2011

Como foi escrito o Capítulo Quatro, de “Os vitrais da sala à prova de som”, acompanhe aqui o making of

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