|
 In a list of 150 countries classified by the he Gini index—an
indicator
used internationally to measure income distribution—Brazil appears
as number 148 in a list of 150 countries. And the country is losing its
battle to reduce this blatant inequality.
By Elma Lia Nascimento
Since May 23, Brazilian best-selling writer Mário Prata has opened the door of his
apartment in São Paulo so anyone who wants can peek over his shoulder and see how his
latest book is coming along. Prata, in a pioneering experience, is writing Os Anjos do
Badaró while a web cam in his room shows him at work and a special setup allows any
Internet user in the world to follow word by word the creation of the novel. The site
address is http://marioprata.terra.com.br and
was created in partnership with the Terra portal and TV1. On June 11, 13 chapters had
already been written.
"The inspiration for this new book came from reading newspaper classifieds from
call girls," revealed the author. "I have never called any of them myself, but I
like to imagine how each one of the girls is." After reading ads from eight different
regions of Brazil, Prata came to the conclusion that the call girls offer very little
information about themselves in São Paulo, reveal a little bit more in Rio, and tell the
story of their lives in the Northeast.
Mário Alberto Campos de Morais Prata, 54, who was born in Uberaba, state of Minas
Gerais, but grew up in Lins, a small town in the interior of São Paulo, has extensive
experience as a writer. He has been successful writing plays, movie scripts, TV shows,
newspaper columns and fiction books, naturally. Last year he released Minhas Mulheres e
Meus Homens (My Women and My Men), his 24th book. In Minhas Mulheres Prata
had dedicated some paragraphs to dentist Badaró, his friend, a man who after being
cheated on by his wife, abandoned dentistry to create an agency for call girls.
Badaró became rich, but later killed himself. The plot of the new book starts when
veteran police reporter Alcides Capella receives some diskettes with the names and details
of 431 call girls. Capella suspects that Badaró was murdered and hopes the new
information will help him know the truth.
Prata's deadline to deliver the book is November 25. Curiously enough, Os Anjos do
Badaró is not going to become an electronic book to be sold on the Internet. The day
after the conclusion all the chapters written will be erased from the author's site and
will be printed in a traditional format. As the author explained: "I am writing a
book for my publishing company, Objetiva, with their consent and it's not for the
Internet. I am just fooling around, experimenting. For me a book has to have flaps."
The Mário Prata site has a place for suggestions and the author says that he is
reading all of them even though he pretty much already knows what is going to happen:
"I have the whole book inside my head. People send me many letters asking about the
process of my work. This project is like giving birth, people will be able to see the book
being born."
And he continues: "I believe this is an electronic feuilleton, but I don't know if
people will follow the chapters as they do in a novela (soap opera). It is sheer
madness to write in your house and to be seen in other peoples' houses."
Others
The Prata experiment comes in the wake of the huge success of American best-selling
author Stephen King's e-book Riding the Bullet, which premiered on the Internet and
drew 400,000 people on the day it was released. Another well-known Brazilian best-selling
writer, João Ubaldo Ribeiro, is offering his latest book only through the Internet. Miséria
e Grandeza do Amor de Benedita (Misery and Grandeur of Benedita's Love) is online
thanks to a joint effort by Nova Fronteira, Ubaldo's publishing house and virtual
bookstore Submarino.
The books costs a little less than $3 and is being offered in pdf format from Adobe,
which allows people to get not only the text, but also an idea of how the printed book
would look. For Nova Fronteira's editor Carlos Augusto Lacerda, the new book format is
still "an exploratory work, a trial balloon." Lacerda believes that 100,000
people will download the book in the next twelve months and he hints that at that time a
printed version of the work may be released.
Ubaldo, whose novel would be a short book of 80 pages if printed, does not seem
particularly impressed with the new medium: "It was the same thing as writing for the
paper, I didn't see that much difference. I have used a computer since 1996 and I am very
interested in the matter, but I take care not to get too involved because I don't want to
become a geek."
Miséria e grandeza do amor de Benedita is very similar to other books written
in the past by João Ubaldo Osório Pimentel Ribeiro who lives in Rio, but was born in
Itaparica, state of Bahia, on January 23, 1941. Benedita, the main character is married to
Deoquinha, a incorrigible Don Juan who dies making love to his lover in the first page of
the story.
Another virtual publishing house, the www.mercatus.com.br, has already announced that
it has joined the e-book bandwagon and will soon release a collection of essays about
female behavior by Marina Colasanti. Luiz Elísio de Melo, Submarino's commercial
director, has already warned that he will be looking very closely at the interest
generated by Ubaldo's book. "We are talking with several publishing houses about
virtual books, but we will sign new contracts only if Ubaldo's book passes the test and
becomes a success."
Os Anjos do Badaró, beginning paragraphs:
O suicida e o jornalista Bogart se sentiria em casa. A sala do Dragão é
exatamente como você imaginaria o local de trabalho do chefe geral de um jornal policial
meio capenga. Não o chefe, o jornal. O Dragão me olhava nos olhos. Tinha me pedido uma
matéria.
—Não, não posso. Você tem que compreender.
O Dragão, como a gente chamava o redator-chefe, me olhando. Atrás dele um relógio
tão velho quanto a velha redação. De corda. Eu tinha certeza que ele ia me compreender.
Ele tinha que saber que eu não estava em condições de escrever sobre a morte do
Badaró.
—É uma amizade de mais de cinqüenta anos. Ou melhor, era.
—Era. Talvez dê uma chamadinha na primeira página. Afinal, não é a primeira
vez que este seu amigo é notícia de jornal.
Ele se levantou e foi até a janela. Redator-chefe, não sei bem porque, adora ir até
a janela quando conversa com a gente.
—Mas foi suicídio mesmo?
Claro que foi.
—Quanto a isso não há nenhuma dúvida. Deixou carta. Tiro na boca. Um estrago
danado.
Acendeu um cigarro. Nunca consegui saber onde é que ele consegue aquele Continental
sem filtro.
Tudo bem, o Nestor faz o perfil dele. Que horas que é o enterro?
Quando eu estava saindo, já me dirigindo para o elevador, o Gatão - com a delicadeza
de sempre - me segurou pelo braço. Alisando a desgovernada barba:
—E aí? E as aulas?
—Tou fora.
—Mas foi o Dragão que mandou.
—O Dragão quem mandou! Quem! Não é que! É quem!!! Quem, quem, quem! Vê se
aprende. Depois a gente se fala. Vou para o velório do Badaró. Me larga.
O Gatão insistia:
—Aquele negócio dos anjos, do consórcio. É mesmo verdade? Era só para mulher
ou...
O elevador chegou. Alívio. Me mandei. |
The suicide and the journalist Bogart would feel at home. The Dragon's room is
exactly like you would imagine the work place of the editor-in-chief of a third-rate
police newspaper to be. The Dragon looked me in the eyes. He had asked me for an article.
—No, I can't. You have to understand.
The Dragon, as we used to call the editor-in-chief, is looking at me. Behind him a
clock as old as the old press room. The winding type. I was sure he would understand me.
He had to know that I was in no condition to write about the death of Badaró.
—It is a friendship of more than fifty years. Or rather it was.
—It was. It will perhaps be worthy of mention on the front page. After all, it is
not the first time your friend has been news.
He stood up and went to the window. An editor-in-chief, I don't know exactly why, loves
to go to the window when he talks to you.
—But was it really suicide?
Sure it was.
—There's no doubt about that. He left a letter. A shot in the mouth. An ugly
wreck.
He lit a cigarette. I was never able to find out where he got that filterless
Continental.
—That's OK, Nestor will write his profile. When is the funeral?
When I was leaving, already on my way to the elevator, Gatão—with the customary
kindness—held me by the arm. Combing his disheveled beard:
—Tell me. What about the classes.
—I am out of it.
—But it was the Dragon that ordered it.
—The Dragon who ordered it! Who! It's not that! It's who!!! Who, who, who! See if
you learn it. We'll talk later. I'm going to Badaró's funeral. Leave me alone.
Gatão insisted:
—That business of angels, of bidding club. Is that really true? It was only for
women or…
The elevator arrived. Relief. I scrammed |
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