quinta-feira, 12 de fevereiro de 2015
Eu já amava o Paul Auster por todos os livros de ficção, pelos autobiográficos, e agora ainda mais pelas cartas trocadas com o Coetzee.
Numa delas, de 23 de outubro de 2009, eles discutem o porquê da arte ter um papel menor do que tinha no final dos anos 1970 e 1980. Trecho do Paul:
"Something is gone now that used to be there. I don't know if artists themselves are to be blamed for this loss. There are probably too many factors involved to blame anyone in particular. One thing is certain, however: stupidity has increased on all fronts. If one reads the letters of soldiers from the American Civil War, many of them turn out to be more literate, more articulate, more sensitive to the nuances of language than the writing of most English professors today. Bad schools? Bad governments that allow bad schools to exist? Or simply too many distractions, too many neon lights, too many computer screens, too much noise?
My only consolation is that art forges on, in spite of everything. It is an unquenchable human need, and even in these grim times, there are countless numbers of good writers and artists, even great writers and artists, and even in the audience for their work has grown smaller, there are still enough people who care about art and literature to make the pursuit worthwhile."