Among my literary idols, Mário de Sá-Carneiro is a favourite.
But tonight I have read "The Marquise of O -" by Kleist and I realized how our letters build on top of each other, how we are built on top of each other, on top of our history, on top of repetition, on top of difference.
Kleist (1811) is an 100 years ahead of Sá-Carneiro (1916), and after this short story I can only point a few things in Sá Carneiro that are not already in Kleist. While Sá Carneiro is always wandering and crazy. Kleist makes us go from complete stability to complete madness in a few lines. Impressive.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
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