tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75637902105821300702024-03-21T16:33:57.605-07:00ENGLISH LITERATURELuciano Azevedohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07962462732187805497noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563790210582130070.post-8993950028743013692016-03-07T07:29:00.001-08:002016-03-07T07:29:30.190-08:00The Crossing (Chapter I: The Blue Wall)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBBxVufoQc-HT5FPoZSoqeEUJi2AXuDBOUFzDbg2ufAvGqtRc7lVtDk6zeaw4hNWCCLuOIuzdlffJarJQzN9dKXE7el_J7lgtJR7d1MngHRd_QdjpNeFY05TVs0gbMT3ffS8hS0nEVsE/s1600/thecrossing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBBxVufoQc-HT5FPoZSoqeEUJi2AXuDBOUFzDbg2ufAvGqtRc7lVtDk6zeaw4hNWCCLuOIuzdlffJarJQzN9dKXE7el_J7lgtJR7d1MngHRd_QdjpNeFY05TVs0gbMT3ffS8hS0nEVsE/s320/thecrossing.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
I was born under the Blue Ridge, and under that side which is blue in the evening light, in a wild land of game and forest and rushing waters. There, on the borders of a creek that runs into the Yadkin River, in a cabin that was chinked with red mud, I came into the world a subject of King George the Third, in that part of his realm known as the province of North Carolina.<br />
The cabin reeked of corn-pone and bacon, and the odor of pelts. It had two shakedowns, on one of which I slept under a bearskin. A rough stone chimncy was reared outside, and the fireplace was as long as my father was tall. There was a crane in it, and a bake ketlle; and over it great buckhorns held my father´s rifle when it was not in use. On other horns hung jerked bear´s meat and venilson harms, and gourds for drinking cups, and bags of seed, and my father´s best hunting shirt; also, in neglected corner, several articles of woman´s attire from pegs. These once belonged to my mother. Among them was a gown of silk, of a fine, faded pattern, over whick I was wont to speculate. The women at the Cross-Roads, twelve miles away were dressed in coarse butternut wool and huge sunbonnets. But when I questioned my father on these matters would give me no answers.<br />
(excerpt from the opening of a novel by Winston Churchill)Luciano Azevedohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07962462732187805497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563790210582130070.post-86652908655689155072015-07-23T15:07:00.003-07:002015-07-23T15:07:37.007-07:00O Jardim de Cimento - escrito por Ian McEwan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnJdRJaogl8oI1INQFyVE4Q7vGXr7sOuSGB0_blI8B6pg-JoZHYbTUCLqp6WWsM2mSZhhQILsJHoAvyXw-yf7imU61l0q68BXFJyXRStkezzKtNbBEFNFzIekLMlbo3-5a2njaqRAYzo/s1600/ojardim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnJdRJaogl8oI1INQFyVE4Q7vGXr7sOuSGB0_blI8B6pg-JoZHYbTUCLqp6WWsM2mSZhhQILsJHoAvyXw-yf7imU61l0q68BXFJyXRStkezzKtNbBEFNFzIekLMlbo3-5a2njaqRAYzo/s1600/ojardim.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
"Já neste seu primeiro romance, Ian Mc Ewan revelava as características que o confirmariam como um dos maiores escritores ingleses de sua geração: o domínio técnico, a linguagem seca, narrativa de forte apelo visual, guinadas surpreendentes.<br />
Mesclando elementos da tradição gótica inglesa a um enredo sem qualquer tipo de devaneio lírico, o autor constrói uma experiência literária áspera e visceral: após a morte dos pais, quatro crianças encerram-se no minúsculo mundo do lar, entregando-se a todo tipo de sensações e descobertas bizarras. Com o tempo, passam a mimetizar os papéis dos adultos ausentes, criando uma nova estrutura familiar que desaba quando a irmã mais velha leva um estranho ao núcleo fraterno. É só o começo de um inferno existencial para o qual não haverá saída." (Autor desconhecido)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvsIbW0AmT_kqN11kVN4V45ojk-GasJBjLvsRip7LK4dNioIQF2DHkCDCG8XQkqIT-MEuBhHm3_7V9Qdw3hyphenhyphenn7CV7CeTeCokqMZTeQ8kV3e5C6r3Rp1QFx_7TdBObDp4IMS9wlJXZWfQ/s1600/ian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvsIbW0AmT_kqN11kVN4V45ojk-GasJBjLvsRip7LK4dNioIQF2DHkCDCG8XQkqIT-MEuBhHm3_7V9Qdw3hyphenhyphenn7CV7CeTeCokqMZTeQ8kV3e5C6r3Rp1QFx_7TdBObDp4IMS9wlJXZWfQ/s1600/ian.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Luciano Azevedohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07962462732187805497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563790210582130070.post-72003094642346330892015-06-29T19:31:00.000-07:002015-06-29T19:31:11.339-07:00A Viagem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxqcqP59NxHIOlW_Xu5sMpYKGaMCQ2DFFc9C0HstcwmfJ3F85ate0d7jKJIBIEXnAjYlGoRfQa8CC2-XyrO8cbFEBw0OZkN4BwmT9Q8vrnntjK9uynj2tGMJGl9fTnehmZbKFzVCNMb8/s1600/a_viagem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxqcqP59NxHIOlW_Xu5sMpYKGaMCQ2DFFc9C0HstcwmfJ3F85ate0d7jKJIBIEXnAjYlGoRfQa8CC2-XyrO8cbFEBw0OZkN4BwmT9Q8vrnntjK9uynj2tGMJGl9fTnehmZbKFzVCNMb8/s320/a_viagem.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
Num estilo <i>road literature</i>, <b>A Viagem</b> de Virgínia Woolf, primeiro livro da escritora britânica, lança luz nos conflitos existenciais de um grupo de viajantes ingleses que realizam uma longa viagem de navio. A narrativa é povoada de personagens que têm sua vida psíquica devassada pelas palavras-bisturi de Virgínia Woolf. O cenário onde ocorrem os fatos é, ao mesmo tempo, material e psíquico e a viagem é apenas uma alegoria do mundo interior trazido à superfície e que se espraia diante do leitor. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Luciano Azevedohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07962462732187805497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563790210582130070.post-64299796012876957162014-10-06T17:49:00.000-07:002014-10-06T17:49:34.001-07:00Rembrandt: painter, engraver and draftsman"An ecletic artist, Rembrandt constantly varied his techiniques in order to better meet his demands. Therefore, he painted, and engraved in turn.<br />
From his early style through his more introspective later paintings, the artist demonstrates his incredible skill in manipulating light and mood, while his striking etchings and engravings convey the energy and spontaneity of a sketch.<br />
Rembrandt´s art, always intensely individual and somewhat mysterious, sheds light on the intimate harmony between the artist´s talent and the poet´s soul breathing through the technical perfection of his work."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnFOmmX3mSolGzBScn_z7EcV7vfzYEw9baF8LWOlpgKF2vss39ji3l7__vvrKlEvNk5ku_4M2CocUGfvX8rJvoyHEyPXe5CglvgEDadQGlJ46KU0EE2Pf81vPcR3cf9KJgsbf3aU6Mgk/s1600/rembrandtpainter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnFOmmX3mSolGzBScn_z7EcV7vfzYEw9baF8LWOlpgKF2vss39ji3l7__vvrKlEvNk5ku_4M2CocUGfvX8rJvoyHEyPXe5CglvgEDadQGlJ46KU0EE2Pf81vPcR3cf9KJgsbf3aU6Mgk/s1600/rembrandtpainter.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Luciano Azevedohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07962462732187805497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563790210582130070.post-19339499069570384292014-07-13T20:58:00.000-07:002014-07-13T20:58:04.351-07:00Allen Ginsberg: poetry, homossexual, anarchist and a Messian of the Beat Movement Allen Ginsberg was born in 1926 and deaded in 1997. Ginsberg was a poetry who participated of the movement <i>beat </i>and <i>contraculture</i>. This movement proposed a renovation in the literature and the artists connected at this movement to intend to do a revolution in the forme and content of the poem and in the arts. The Ginsberg´s book most famous is <i>Uivo</i>. The Ginsberg´s ideas and subersive poem <br />
influenced the hippie ideologie. I found a poem which offer an idea of this subvertion in the language, form and content of the poem which is emerging in the new scene in the century 20.<br />
For more information: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/allen-ginsberg<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqbILHlYrIwzRnnpBwxExhpsSCaVmV3mVBcBqz8vUwTy7j1jtH8wKuw1vWbHTAYLSxjLF6Pr_IJqZy4j_-Uq0lGTpjavcUi8PJJrQL6ZzQ9KkfNzBqJ1egBK8_bhyphenhyphenUy0sh1Z1kSHIIfU/s1600/Ginsberg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqbILHlYrIwzRnnpBwxExhpsSCaVmV3mVBcBqz8vUwTy7j1jtH8wKuw1vWbHTAYLSxjLF6Pr_IJqZy4j_-Uq0lGTpjavcUi8PJJrQL6ZzQ9KkfNzBqJ1egBK8_bhyphenhyphenUy0sh1Z1kSHIIfU/s1600/Ginsberg1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>POEMA DE AMOR SOBRE
UM TEMA DE WHITMAN</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Entrarei silencioso no quarto de dormir e me deitarei entre
noivo e noiva,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
esses corpos caídos do céu esperando nus em sobressalto,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
braços pousados sobre os olhos na escuridão,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
afundarei minha cara em seus ombros e seios, respirarei sua
pele</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
e acariciarei e beijarei a nuca e a boca e mostrarei seu
traseiro,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
pernas erguidas e dobradas para receber, caralho atormentado
na escuridão, atacando</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
levantado do buraco até a cabeça pulsante</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
corpos entrelaçados nus e trêmulos, coxas quentes e nádegas
enfiadas uma na outra,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
e os olhos, olhos cintilando encantadores, abrindo-se em
olhares e abandono,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
e os gemidos do movimento, vozes, mãos no ar, mãos entre as
coxas,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
mãos na umidade de macios quadris, palpitante contração de
ventres</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
até que o branco venha jorrar no turbilhão dos lençóis </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
e a noiva grite pedindo perdão e o noivo se cubra de lágrimas
de paixão e compaixão</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
e eu me erga da cama saciado de últimos gestos íntimos e
beijos de adeus —</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tudo isso antes que a mente desperte, atrás das cortinas e
portas fechadas da casa escurecida</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
cujos habitantes perambulam insatisfeitos pela noite,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
fantasmas desnudos buscando-se no silêncio.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
Luciano Azevedohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07962462732187805497noreply@blogger.com0