From Brazil comes a slim novel told in a unique writing style. The style evokes a dreamlike, wistful state. As if it were possible to distill life’s complexities into the simplicity of the way things are, when you are who you are. As, of course, it is.
The protagonist, Raimundo, is forced to escape from his home in rural Brazil. It is the way things are. Here is an example of the dreamlike writing style. Note that the reader is responsible for determining which words are being spoken aloud, and by whom, and which describe events, or thoughts—for the punctuation does not dictate these things:
“. . . he was the one who gave me a ride that day, a nice man, Where are you headed? The capital, I think, is it far? it turned out he wasn’t going to the capital, but I didn’t mind, there must be many far aways, I went, watching the world pass by the truck window, faster than a river current.”
(The river current takes on added meanings in context, because of terrible events that have occurred by the river.)
Raimundo’s lifelong quest is twofold. First, to understand how to be a gay man in a repressive, hostile society. Second, to learn how to read, for his long-ago lover had sent him a letter that he refuses to show to anyone, and thus, he remains ignorant of its contents.
The Words That Remain, by Stênio Gardel, translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato, won the National Book Award 2023 for Translated Literature.
This little dreamlike book may best be enjoyed while cuddled in a blanket with a cup of chamomile tea. It may not shatter your world. But it may do something even better—remind you that it’s okay to be you. Take you out of the harshness of today and into the long sweep of a lifetime. We all need to be rejuvenated with such reminders and zoomings out, on occasion.
Over the years, have you grown into yourself?
