INTRODUCTION BY NANCY FUMERO What is a translation that stalls comprehension? That, when read, parsed, obfuscates comprehension through any language – English, Portuguese. It is inevitable that readers expect fidelity from translations. That language mirror with a sort of precision that enables the reader to become of another location, condition, to grasp in English in a similar vein as readers of Portuguese might from João Guimarães Rosa’s GRANDE SERTÃO: VEREDAS. There is the expectation that translations enable mobility. That what was (...) written in one language be accessible in another. And that a translator is to serve as a mediator, acting ultimately in service to ideas within the source text. To disperse them. However, this notion of translation is partly antithetical to the ideas in Rosa’s work. Or, alternately, to convey the despair of terrain slipping beneath one’s feet, and to encounter the heightened suspense of magic, the translation, as part of its strategy, cannot devotedly rely on its original language, not as its source text. The work undertaken by Felipe W.Martinez is a new form of translation that risks everything in order to encounter the same treacherous knowing Rosa had traversed. And it takes its risks by not taking risks: by being, almost word for word, a literal translation. This is an approach that reductively converts, as opposed to translates. The idiomatic differences between English and Portuguese are not accented. The syntax is not finessed. Liberties are not assumed on account of improving readability. What stands, resoundingly amid such absences, is the awakened challenge of reading. The genuine peril of not knowing. That is, this translation, one that purports to know nothing, creates access into the guileful world Rosa had created in Portuguese. But not by translating. If anything, GRANDE SERTÃO: VEREDAS is speaking a cosmic language through a linguistic one. And W.Martinez does us the service of recognizing this, as what configures the shapes of words and sentences is not as simple as neologisms, portmanteaus, and digressions, but as terrifying as the path the fool traverses: all paths. As such, this translation doesn’t speak English, just as the original does not speak Portuguese. It is the assemblage of paradox as a new logic that can be navigated, if only one could suspend the comfort of readability, of expectation. If one could descend a mountain in the pitch dark of night, each step shocking the body, unable to acclimate to the unleveled heights. Without a doubt, the translation is incongruous to the Portuguese. Taking a small excerpt to compare: Eh, well, thereafter, the rest the Sir provide: comes the bread, comes the hand, comes the god, comes the dog. What is striking is the interplay between “god” and “dog”. To most English speakers, this anagram is a familiar one. But in Portuguese the words god (“deus”) and dog (“cão”) are not so closely linked. In fact, there is no direct mention of “deus” in Rosa’s text: Eh, pois, empós, o resto o senhor prove: vem o pão, vem a mão, vem o são, vem o cão. Both are fascinating. In Rosa’s excerpt, the rhythm is unmistakable and precise, despite, of course, the indices of hesitation: the commas, the Eh, the uncomfortable way of searching through prolongation and wait. This is the sort of paradox Rosa can engage within a sentence. W.Martinez’s does this as well, at a scale that reverberates beyond the sentence, and with one noticeable addition: deus. What may appear to be an overstep, to add such a weighted word that draws out wordplay but is, nevertheless, not in the source text, is exemplary of risk. The translation buzzes because of it. This is because throughout the text we encounter dogs frequently, as some primal beast on par with humans. The dog is one that masters and can be mastered. A creature that is at times its face, and at others a mask. It is a powerful presence. For the translator to be attuned to the reverent undercurrent attributed to this animal, and create within the translation such charged play in English from what was only an implication in Portuguese, is in tribute to the grand beauty within dissonance. What aberrant modes of writing and translation can teach us most assuredly, is that things, words, are not in states of rightness or wrongness, but of oscillation. This isn’t so different from what Rosa says himself: The Sir look…see: the most important and beautiful, of the world, is this: that the people are not always same, still were not completed — but that they go always shifting. They tune or detune. We find this so readily in W.Martinez’s translation, this tuning and detuning. Nancy Fumero Los Angeles GRAND SERTÃO: VEREDAS BY JOÃO GUIMARÃES ROSA TRANSLATED FROM THE PORTUGUESE BY FELIPE W.MARTINEZ Nonothing. Shots that the Sir heard were man brawling not, God be. Bleach white sights on the tree in the backyard, down in the river. By my right. I do this every day, I like; from the bad of boyhood. Thereof they came to call on me. Case of a calf: a white calf, errorful, eyes of to not be—saw selves—; and with a mask of a dog! They told me; I didn’t want to catch a sight. Same that, by the defects of birth, upturned lips, looked to be a laughing man. Folkface, dogface: they determined—it was the devil. Bananas. Killed it. Do not know who owned it. They came to borrow my guns. I caved. I’ve no power to impose. Oh, sir, you laugh certain laughs…Look: when it’s a true shot, first the dogs begin to bark, instantly—after, then, you see who’s handed death. Sir, endure, this is the Sertão. Some want that it is not: that situated Sertão is in and out of those general fields, they say, end of the road, highlands, the other Urucuia. Toleima. For those of Cortino and of Curvelo, then, isn’t here said Sertão? Ah! That there’s more! To place the Sertão it’s told: it’s where the pastures lack latches; where one can tear off ten, fifteen leagues without running into a houseinhabitant; where criminalousness lives out its christ jesus. Sifted out from the tightening grip of the law. The Urcuia comes from the western mountains. But today, its banks, give all—farmlands of farms, pastures of meadows of good yield, low tides, cultures that go kill for kill, until these virgins there are. The general fields run round. These general fields are without size. Ultimately, whichever one one approves, the Sir knows: bread or breads, it’s a question of heads…the Sertão is everywhere. Of the devi? No comment. Sir ask the dwellers. Falsely I fear they unspeak that name of his—only say: whatsitcalled. Volt! no… Whosoever over avoids it, lives with it. In the sentence of one Aristides—who exists in the first palm grove on the right hand side, called Vereda-of-Cow-Calm-of-Saint-Rita—everyone believes: he can't pass in three designated places: then can be heard the tiny cry, behind, a little voice warning:— "Here I come! Here I come!... "— that is the Capirote, the whatsitcalled... And one Jise Simplicio—who anyone from here will swear he keeps an imp in house, a little satanite, imprisoned and obliged to help in all greedful deeds; reason that Simplicio emprises en route to complete riches. As such, for this they say too that his beast bristles and refuses, denying his banner, unyielding, when he wishes to mount... Superstition. Jise Simplicio and Aristides, continue getting fatter, thence unheard or heard. Still the Sir study: right now, in these days of time, you have people purporting that the devil proper stopped, mid-passage, in Andrequice. A boy out of there, to whom'd appeared, and there lauded that, to get here—normally, by horse, a day-n-half—he was capable of such with only some twenty minutes enough... by coasting the River of Chico by the headwaters! Or, too, who knows—sans offense—will not have been, for example, even yourself the Sir who announced such, when you passed by there, for fun run funny? Thereof, not my given crime, I know that wasn't. And evil I wanted not. Only that one question, in hours, at times, brightens peaceful reason. But, the Sir understand: if such a boy, there was, he wanted to dupe. Because, hey, that, to cut the river off by the springs, would be the same thing as one redoubling in the internals of this our state of ours, costant of a journey of some three months... Then? Whatsitcalled? Dodo. The fantastication. And, the respect of giving him such these names of delicacy, is what it is for one to want to invoke that he form of form, with his presence! Not that is. I, personally, almost that have lost in him the creed, deserving to Deus; is the that to the Sir I say, to pure-secret. I know that it is well established, that it greases our Saintly-Gospels. On occasion, I conversed with a young seminarian, super suitable, conferring in the book of prayers and coated in vestments, with a stick of black-sage in hand—prosed that he went auxilitator to the father, to extract the Cujo, from the body living of an oldwoman, in Waterfalls-of-Bulls, he went with the vicar of Field-Round... I conceive. The Sir not is as I? I didn't believe a single thing. Compadre mine Quelemem describes that that which reveals effect are the low spirits meager, of third, adoing in the worst darkness and with anxieties of connecting selves with the livers—they give support. Compadre mine Quelemem is who much me consoles—Quelemem of Goias. But he has to live far from here, in Jijuja, Vereda of Buriti Dark... Ahrr, I leave myself there, that in enevildemonment or with support—the Sir too must have had known diverse, men, women. As not yes? For me, umpteen I've seen, that I've learned. Ma-Neigh, Blood-o'Other, or Legion-Lips, or Tear-em-Down, Cold-Cutter, or Sissy-Goat, one Treciziano, or Verdigris... or Hermogenes... o'them, pileload. If I could forget so many names... I'm not a man for calming horses! And, same, whom of yes of to be jagunço self enters, yea is for some competence entrant of demonion. Will it not? Will it? From first, I made and mixed, and to think not I thought. I didn't have the deadlines. I lived pulling difficult from difficult, fish alive on griddle: who lives asp'rously, no fantasies. But, now, fete of fate to me comes, and sans little disquietudes, I'm from creaky net. And myself invented in this like, of to speculate ideas. The devil exists and nonexists? I say the saying. Opennouncement. These melancholies. The Sir sees: exists waterfall; and since? But waterfall is gulch of ground, and water so pouring from it, retumbling; the Sir consume that water, or undo that bankment, remainder waterfall any? To live is negotiation much perilous. I explain to the Sir: the devil vigors inside of human, the wrinkles of human— or is the human ruin, or the human of adversess. I free, per se, citizen, is that not has devil notone. Notone!— is the that I say. The Sir approve? Me declares total, frank— is high merit that me make: and to beg might, increased. This case— by rashtravagance that me they see— is of mine certain importance. God grant not was... But, not say that the Sir, awised and instructed, that agrees in people of them?! Not? You I appreciate! Your high opinion composes my value. Yea I knew, waited for it— yea the field! Ah, a we, in oldness, we lack of to have plowing of rest. You I appreciate. Is devil notone. Nor esprit. Never I've seen. Someone ought to see, then was I myself, this your servant. Was I you to tell... Well, the devil regulate his state black, ins creatures, ins womens, ins humans. E'en: ins childrens— I declaim. Since not is said: "boy—trainee of the devil"? And ins thes uses, ins plants, ins waters, in terra, in wind... Manures. …The devil in the street, in the middle of the vortex... Hey? Hey? Ah. Figuration mine, of worse by back, the certain memories. Mal-make me! I suffer pain of to tell not…Meliorate, if chillingly: well, in a ground and with equal format of branches and leaves, not give to cassava-calm, that is eaten common, and the cassava-mad that kills? Now, the Sir yea saw a strangeness? A cassava-sweet can rapidly to turn agonizing— motives not I know, at times is said that is for replanted in the terrain always, with mutations then, of caules—go embittering, of s’much in s’much, of its self takes poisons. And, well look: the other, the cassava-mad, too is that at times can fix calm, the estimate, of is to eat sans notone mal. And what this is? Eh, the Sir yea saw, for to see, the ugliness of hate pleated, facetorqued, on the faces of one cobrarattlesnake? Observed the porker fat, capita day more felicity brute, capable of, could, snort and engulf for its own dirty coziness the world total? And sparrowhawk, blackbird, some, the features of they yea represent the need of cleave for before, rend and shred by beak, appears a knife much fine for ruin I desire. Total. Has even twisted races of stone, horrorous, venomous— that spoil mortal the aquas, if they are buried beneath of well; the devil inside of them sleeps: they are the devil. Is known? And the demon— that is only thus the significance of one mercury malign— have order of to follow the path of him, have license to brag?! Arr, he is variegated in all! What the what wastes, goes spending the devil of inside of the people, by itttybits, is the reasonable to suffer. And the delight of love—compadre mine Quelemem says. Family. Really? Is, and not is. The Sir think and not think. Total is and not is… Almost all more grave criminous ferocity, always is much good husband, good son, good father, and is good-friend-of-your-friends! I know of those. Solo that have the afters— and Deus, joined. I spy many nimbi. But, in veracity, son, too, softens. Look: one called Aleixo, resident a league from Step-of-Sour, in Of-Sand, was the man of major badness calm that yea you saw. Me agreed that near the house of his had a weir, amidst the palms, with traíras, for souls of enormous, desenormous, to the real, that received fame; the Aleixo gave of to eat to them, in hours just, they self accustomed to if assuch of lunacies, in order to gobble, seemed to be fishes instructed. One day, solo for grace rustic, he killed an oldman who by there passed, destitute begging alms. The Sir not doubt—have people, in this bored world, that kill solo in order to see someone make grimace… Eh, well, thereafter, the rest the Sir provide: comes the bread, comes the hand, comes the god, comes the dog. This Aleixo was man afamilied, had children small; they were the love of his, total, absurdity. Gave good, that not even a year there passed, of to killed the oldman poor, and the children of Aleixo there they asickened. Smallepidemic of measles, they said, but complex; they never heal. When, then, they healed. But the eyes of theirs vermillionized high in an inflame of spraining to rebellion; and nexthing— the that not I know is if they went of at once, or one later and later other and other— they remained blind. Blind, sans remission of one sweet of light of this Ours! The Sir imagine: stairset— three boys and one girl— all blind. Sans remediable. The Aleixo not lost the judgment, but he changed; ah, mutated complete— now lives of band of Deus, sweating to be good and charitous in all his hours of night and of day. Appears even that he fixed the felicity, that before not was. He himself says he was a man of luck, because Deus wanted to have pity of him, to transform for there the route of his soul. That I heard, and me it gave rage. Reason of the children. If being castigated, what culpa of the let-there-bes of Aleixo those little children had?! Compadre mine Quelemem reproved my uncertainties. That, for certain, inother life returnaound, the children too had been the most wicked, of the mass and part of the father, demons of the same kettle of place. Sir the what thinks? And the oldman, assassinated? — I know the Sir goes to discuss. Well, too. In order that he had a sin of crime, in the body, by to pay. If the people— conforming compadre mine Quelemem is who says— if the people turn to to incarnate renovated, I contemplate even that enemy of death can come as son of the enemy. Look see: if to myself I say, has a subject Pedro Pindo, neighbor of here more six leagues, man of good for all in all, he and the woman of his, always been good, of goodness. They have a son of some ten years called Valtei—name modern, is the that the population of here now appreciates, the Sir knows. Well this-little-thing, thislet, since that some understanding illuminated in him, deed demonstrated the that is: petition stepfather, acid burner, likeful of ruin of inside of the profundity of the species of its nature. In which that torments, to the slowly, of all beasts or raisinglings little that quarrel; one time he found a creole woman hooched foolish sleeping, he arranged a shard of bottle, lashed at three points on the stern of the legs of hers. The what this boy drooled seeing, is bleeding hen or to knife pig.— “I enjoy of to kill…”— one occasion he teeny me told. He opened in me a fright; because: birdy that self leans over— the flight yea is ready! Well the Sir oversee: the pa, Pedro Pindo, mode of to correct this, and the ma, they give in him, misery and mast—they cast the boy sans to eat, they tied to trees in the yard, he nude, unplumed, even in June cold, they tilled the bittybody of his with the trammel and with the goblet, after they cleansed the skin of the sanguine, with bottle gourd brine. The people know, spy, fix wasted. The boy yea relowered of thinness, the eyes entering, caress of bones, enskulled, and tuberculated, the time total hacking, coughness of the that draw parched pectorals. Arr, that now, visible, the Pindo and the woman self habituated of on him hit, of little bit in little they were creating in this a pleasure ugly of diversion— as they regulate the canings in hours certain comfortable, until they call people to see the example good. I think that boy not endure, yea there is in the ta-da, not arrive for the lent to come… Ooee-ooee, then?! Not being as compadre mine Quelemem to want, that explication is that the Sir bestowed? That boy had to be a man. He should, in swing, terrible perversities. Soul of his was in the pitch. Demonstrated. And, now, paid. Ah, but, happens, when he’s crying and paining, he suffers equal that as was as a boy good… Bird, I saw all, in this world! Yea I saw even horse with hiccups… —the that the thing most costous that is. Good, but the Sir may say, should of: and in the start— for offenses and arts, the people— as for that was that s’much amended was started? Ey, ey, ey all collided. Compadre mine Quelemem, too. Am solo a sertanite, in these high ideas I navigate mal. Am much poor poor-thing. Envy my pedigree and of ones conform the Sir, with total reading and doctoration. Not is that I be illiterate. I spelt, years and middle, midly speller, memory and palmer. I had master, Master Lucas, in the Curralinho, he memorized grammar, the operations, rule-of-three, even geography and study patria. On leaves great of paper, with caprice I traced handsome maps. Ah, not is for to speak: but, since of the start, me they thought sophisticated of side. And that I merited of to go to course latin, in Lesson Waterlily—that too they said. Time nostalgic! Going today, I appreciate a good book, despaced. On the farm The Lilittlelemon, of one mine friend Vito Soziano, so sign of this almanac thick, of logoglyphs and conundrums and other divided matters, all year come. In s’much, I place primacy is in the reading advantageous, life of saints, virtues and examples— missionary astute engambling the Indians, or Saint Francis of Assis, Saint Anthony, Saint Gerald… I like much of moral. To ratiocinate, exhort the others for the good way, to acounsel to just. Mine woman, that the Sir knows, vigils for me: much prayer. She is a blessable. Compadre mine Quelemem always says that I may to aquiet my fears on conscience, that being well-attended, terrible good-esprits me protect. Eep! With like… As is of saint effect, I help with mine to want to accredit. But not even always can I. The Sir knew: I total the mine life I thought for me, lining, I am born different. I am and I same. I divert of total the world… I almost that nothing not I know. But I disconfide of many things. The Sir, conceding, I say: in order to think long, I am dog master— the Sir loose in mine front an idea ease and I research that by profundity of total the backwoods, amen! Look: the should of to have, was of so reunited-selves the wise, politicos, constitutions graded, closed the definitive the notion— to proclaim for one time, art assemblies, that not have devil notone, not exists, not possible. Valor of law! Solo assuch, they gave tranquility good to the people. Because the government not cares?! Ah, I know that not is possible. Not me settled the Sir for philistine. One this is to place ideas arranged, other is to deal with country of people, of flesh and sanguine, of thousand-and-many miseries… S’many people—gives scare of to know—and notone so calms: All nascenting, crescendoing, so wedding, wanting collocation of employment, consumables, health, abundance, to be important, wanting rain and affairs good… Of luck that lacks of so to choose: or we t’weave of to live in the salacious common, or care solo of religion solo. I could to be: father clergyman, if not chief of jagunços; for other things not was I birthed. But mine oldness yea principaled I erred of total account. And the rheumatism… There as whom says: in the primers. Ahem. Hey? Hey? The that more I think, I testify and explain: all-the-world is mad. The Sir, I, we, the people all. For this is that so lacks principally of religion: in order to desendodorize, to disdodoate. Pray is that heals of lunacy. In the general. This is that is the salvation-of-the-soul…Much religion your servant! I here, not I lose occasion of religion. I profit of all. I drink water of all rivers… One solo, for me is little, maybe not me arrives. I pray christian, catholic, I burrow the certain; and I accept the prayers of compadre mine Quelemem, doctrine of he, of Kardec. But, when I can, I go in the Mindubim, where one Matias is believer, methodist: the people so accuse of sinner, reads high the bible, and why, singing hymns beautiful of his. Total me quiets, me suspends. Whatever small shade me refreshes. But is solo much provisory. I wanted to pray— the time total. Many people not me approve, they think that law of Deus is privileges, invariable. And I! Doof! I Detest! The what I am? — the what I do, that want, much curia. And in face of total I face, executed. I? —not I trammel. Look: I have a black girl, Maria Leoncia, long from here not she lives, the prayers of her afame much virtue of power. Well to her I pay, every month— ordering of to pray for me one third, every saint day, and, on the Sundays, a rosary. Value, so values. Mine woman not sees mal in this. And I am, yea mandated word for an other, of the voyage-voyage, a Izina Calanga, in order to come here, I heard of that prayer too with grand mermermerits, I go to effect with she treatment equal. I want handful of those, me defending in Deus, reunited of me in volta… Cuts of Christ! To live is much perilous… To want the good with too much force, of incertain way, can yea to be being so wanting the mal, per to initiate. These humans! All they pull the world for itself, for the to concert amended. But capita one solo sees and understands the things of one his world. Amountain, the most supro, most serious was Mediero Vaz. That one man ancient… his Joaozy Ben-Ben, the most brave of all, no-one never can decipher how he by inside consisted. Joca Ramiro— grand man prince!— was politico. Zé Bebelo wanted to be politico, but had and not had luck: fox that lingered. So Candelario so demonized, by to think that was with illness mal. Titao Passos was the by the appreciation of friends: solo per via of them, of his same amities, were that such high so ajagunçoed. Antonio Do— severe bandit. But by half, grand majority half that be. Andalecio, in the profound, a good man-of-good, being raving in his total justice. Ricardao, same, wanted was to be rich in peace: for this he warred. Solo the Hermogenes was that born formed tiger, and assassinite. And the “Ofidios White”? Ah, not me speak. Ah this… joyless mischeivious, that was— that was a poor boy of the destiny… So good, congruous. The Sir heard, I you told: the ruin with the ruin, they terminate by the spine-bushes so to crack— Deus awaits that spendance. Boy!: Deus is patience. The contrary, is the devil. So consumes. The Sir file knife on knife— and file— that so they scrape. Even the rocks of the profound, one of in the other, they go-so aroundabounding even, that the rivulet rolls. Per enquantity, that I think, total as hath, in this world, is because so merits and lacks. Afterly precise. Deus not so reports with rifle, not garrotes the regulation. For what? Quit: goof with goof—one day, some illumination and learn: smart. Solo that, at times, for most auxiliar, Deus begets, in the middle, a pinch of pepper… Therebe? Well, for example: some time, I went of train, there in Seven-Lagoons, for parts of to consult a medical, of name me indicated. He went vested well, and in car of first, by via of the doubts, not me they shadowed for jagunço ancient. It goes and happens, that, close same of me, enfront, he took aseat, returning from the wild North, a mac Jazevedao, delegate professionale. Came with a capanga of his, an undercover, and I well knew the two, of that s’much a was ruin, as the other ruin was. The veracity to say, first I had the strict of me to surpasss for one lonng, to mutate of my place. Judgement me told, meliorate stay. Well, looking, I looked. And— you I tell: never I saw face of man furnished of brutez or malady more, of the them in that. As that was ogre, trussed of thickset, relustered of crude in the eyes small, and armed a chin of stone, toweringbrow; not of mid nor forehead. Not laughed, not so laughed not even one time; but, speaking or silent, the people appeared always to him some teeth, prey pointed of canids. Arr, and blustered, an ittybit. Solo growled curt, low, the mid-words grizzled. He came relooking, historicizing the documents— one by one the leaves with portraits and with the blacks of the digits of jagunços, lifters of horses and criminouses of death. That application of work, in one thing of those, generated the ire in the people. The undercover, busybodyguard, total close, seated joined, attending, excelling of to be dog. Me made a dread, but solo in the goof of the corpus, not in the intern of the courages. One hour, one of those reports fell— and I bent quickly, I knew there precisely by why, not I wanted, not I thought— even today I raise shame of this— I picked the paper of the ground, and delivered to him. Thereof, I say: I had more rage, because I did that; but there yea it was done. The man not even me looked, not even said notone thankfulment. Event he soles of the shoes of his— solo looking— that soles rough thick, bent of enormous, appearing iron bronzed. Because I knew: This Jazevedao, when he apprehended someone, the primary quiet thing that proceeded was that he came entering, sans to have to to say, feigning some hurry, and go stepping on the top of the feet of the poorthings. And that on these occasions he gave laughters, gave… Well, geck! I delivered to him the leaf of paper, and went leaving of there, by to have hand on me of not to destroy by shots that subject. Meat that much they weigh… And umbilicated beginning of belly pot bellied, that me created will… With my lightness, joyful that I’d kill. But, the barbarities that this delegate made and happened, the Sir not even has callus in heart to be able me to hear. He achieved of many men and women to cry blood, for the simple universolo ours here. Sertão. The Sir knows: sertão is where mandates who is strong, with the guile. And bullet is a tidbit of metal… S’much, I say: Jazevedao— one assuch, should of to have, needed? Ah, need. Leather ruined is that calls goad of point. That there be that, after— business particular of he— in the life or in the other, each Jazevedao, accomplished the that he has, desclimbs in his time of pain, too, until to pay the that he gave— compadre mine Quelemem is there, in order to fiscalize. The Sir knows: the peril that is to live… But solo of the mode, of these, by ugly instrument, was that the jagunsaga so finished. Sir thinks that Antonio Do or Olivino Oliviano were going to fix goodies by pure spelling of itself, or by begging of the infelicitous, or by always to hear sermon of father? You I think! In the aims… Of jagunço comported active in order so to repent in the middle of his jagunsagas, solo I lay of one: called Joe Cazuzo— was in smashing of one shotshow, for on the summit of the place Sierra New, district of river rusted, on the stream Traçadal. We made mal minority small, and they closed in order summit of us the personnel of one Coronel Adalvino, forted politico, with many soldiers uniformed in the center, commanding of the Lieutenant Epiphany Helm, that after fixed captain. We lasted hour more hour, and yea gave almost of encircled. There, of misslip, that Joe Cazuzo— man much valiant— so kneeled turned on the ground of the thick, lifted the arms that not even shoots of Jatoba dry, and solo yell, howl clear and howl deaf:— “I saw the Virgin Ours, in the resplendor of the Heavens, with her children of angels!... ” He screamed not touched. — “I saw the Virgin!... ” He ensouled? We desequaled. Bolt for my horse—that I thought— I leaped in mal seat, noteven I knew in which rupture-time I unfastened the halter, of tied up it foot of timber. I flew, arrived. Bullet come. The pasture roared. In the brush, the fear of the people so goes to the whole, one fear intentional. I could to lash out, fated burro brute, giv-that, giv-that. Some two or three bullets so drovein the pad of the mine saddle, they perforated of to tear away almost much the kapok of the filling. Horse trembled in pro, in middle of gallop, I know: thinks in the owner. I not fit of to be more well shrunken. Bulleted came to the sack that I had on the back, with few mine things. And other, of fusil, in ricochet decreed, heated my thigh, sans me wound, the Sir see: bullet does the what to want—so pierced impressed, between in me and the harness! Times crazy… Burumbum!: the horse so kneeled in the fall, dead perhaps, and I yea falling for front, embraced in foliage full, branched and linias, that me swayed and skewered, done I was pendulating in web of spider… Whither? I traversed that life total… Of fear of anxiety, I ruptured to read with mine corpus that forest, I know there — and me fell world below, rolled for the hollow of a grotto closed of shrubs, always me grasped— rolled same assuch: after: after, when I saw mine hands, total on they that not was withdrawn sanguine, was smeared green, on the digits, of leaves living that I pulled and mashed… I landed on the sedge of the profound— and a beast dark gave a releap, with a sneeze, too mad of fright: that was a papa-mel, that I descried; in order to flee, this is solely. Bigger being I, me doused mine overcoat; I spigotted total. And of one bit of thought: if that beast irara lying there then there not had cobra. I took the place of his. Existed cobra notone. I could me to lose. I was solo spineless, softness, but that not deadened, inside, the collisions of the heart. I gasped. I conceived that they came, me kill. Not even did mal, me mattered not. Assuch, some moments, at least I guarded the license of term in order me to rest. Conforming I thought in Diadorim. Solo I thought was in he. One joão-congo sang. I wanted to die thinking in my friend Diadorim, hand-o-bro, who was on the Sierra of WoodO’Bow, almost on the border baiana, with our other half of the so-candelarios… With my friend Diadorim me embraced, sentiment my went-flew right for he… Ay, arr, but: that this mine mouth not has order notone. I am accounting outside, things divagated. In the Sir me confide? Til-that, til-that. Say the angel-of-the-guard… But, conforming I came: after so knew, that same the soldiers of the Lieutenant and the goats of Coronel Adalvino remitted of to respect the blast of that Joe Cazuzo. And that this ended being the man most pacificious of the world, fabricator of oil and sacristan, in the Saint Sundays White. Times! For total, cleaned revelation, I fix thinking. I like. Meliorate, for the idea if well to open, is travelling in train-of-iron. Could, lived to top and to bottom, inside of it. Information that I ask: same in the Heavens, end of end, how is that the soul wins so to forget s’much sufferments and maladies, in the received and in the given? The how? The Sir knows: are things of hideous ofmuch, have. Pain of corpus and pain of idea mark forted, that forted as the total love and rage of hate. Goes, sea… Of luck that, then, the Firmiano, by appellationed Louse-of-Snake, so leoprosized with the leg disconformed, thickening, of that disease that not so cures; and not discern almost more, constant the branchials in the eyes, of the cataracts. Of before, years, had to of so disarray of the jagunsaga. Well, one occasion, some was on the ranch of his, on the High Jeuitai, after accounted—that, turns time, comes subject, he would say: “Me give yearning is of to seize a soldier, and such, for one good flay, with knife blind… But, first, to castrate…” The Sir conceive? Who has more dose of demon in self is Indian, any race of brusque. Folk see nation ofthese, for there profound of the generals of Goias, theofwhere has vagarous grand rivers, of aquas always so clear pleasantly, running of down crystal rosed… Louse-of-Snake gave of sanguine of heathen. Sir me will say: but that he pronounced that out of mouth, manner of to represent that yet not was old decadent. Opus of to oppose, for fear of to be tame, and cause in order so to see respected. Total listened for such rule: palavered of ruins, for more so valued, because we to the environs is hard durability. The worst, but, is that they finish, through the same ford, given of one day to execute the declared, in the real. I saw s’much crudity! Pain not pays to account; if I go, I collide. And me dedrip, three that me sicken, this total. Me convokes that the personnel, today in day, is good of heart. This is, good in the trivial. Malices wildwants, and perversities, always have some, but scarcities. Generation mine, true, was not assuch. Ah, goes to turn a time, in which not is used more to kill people… I yea am old. Good, I was saying: question, this that me excavates… Ah, I formed that question, for compadre mine Quelemem. That me responded: that, for close to heaven, we so amplified so, that total the uglies past so exhaled of not to be—fated sans-modus from time of youngster, mal-arts. As we not lack of to have remorse of the which divulged in the pulsation of his nightmares of one night. Assuch that: fleeced-so, flourished-so! Ahem. For this said, is that the journey to the Heavens is delayed. I confide with compadre mine Quelemem, the Sir knows: reason of creed same that has—that, for total the mal, that so does, one day so repays, the exact. Subject assuch rises three times, in ante of to want to facilitate in any minutia reprehensible… Compadre mine Quelemem never speaks vacant, not subtreats. Solo that this to he not I go to expose. We never should have to declare that accept entire the alien—that is what is the rule of the king! The Sir look…see: the most important and beautiful, of the world, is this: that the people are not always same, still were not completed — but that they go always shifting. They tune or detune. Truth major. Is the that the life me taught. This that me animates, mound. And, other thing: the devil and the brutes; but Deus is treacherous! Ah, a beauty of treacherous— gives like! The force of his, when he wants— boy!— me gives the fear dread! Deus comes coming: no one not sees. He does in the law of gentle— assuch is the miracle. And Deus attacks beautiful, so amusing, so economizes. The well: one day in a tannery, the little knife mine I had dropped inside of a tank, solo soup of bark of tan, stryphnodendron adstringens, angico, there I know. —“Tomorrow I try…”— I said, withmyself. Because it was of night, light notone I not disputed. Ah, then, I found: on the other day, early, the knife, the iron of it, had been gnawed, almost by half, by that aqua dark, total quiet. I left, for more to see. Crack, fuse! Know the what was? Well, in that same of afternoon, there: of the little knife solo so found the handle… The handle, for not to be of cold metal, but of horn of deer. There is: Deus… Good, the Sir heard knows, the that knows me understands… We sum, not think that religion fractures. Sir think the contrary. Visible that, those other times, I painted—belief that the neoglaziovia variegata lifts the flower. Ah, good my joy… Boyhood. But boyhood is task for more later so to deny. Too, I of that of to think in vague in s’much, lost mine hand-of-man for the management hot, in the middle of all. But, today, that I ratiocinated, and think the endeavor, not nor for this not I give for low my competence, in a fire-and-iron. The to see. Would approach would come here with war on me, with bad parts, with other laws, or with excessive looks, and I even draw to ignite this zone, ay, if, if! Is in the mouth of the blunderbuss: is in the rete-te-tem… And lonelyonly not I am, there-of-the. For not this, I was I placed encircle my mine people. Look the Sir: here, close, vereda below, the Paspe — cropper my — is mine. More league, if that, have the Herpetotheres, and have the compadre Ciril, him and three children, I know that they serve. Band of that hand, the Alaripe: knew the Sir the that is that so boasts, in rifleation and by the knife, one cearense did this! After more: the João Innatal, the Quipes, Lophiosilurus-of-claws. And the Fafafa— this gave fights high, all side with me, in the combat old of the Anteater-such: we cleaned the wind of whom not had order of to respirate, and ante these we desencompassed… The Fafafa has a mass of mares. He raises horses good. Even a little more distant, on the ped-of-sierra, of band mine was the Sesfred, Jesualdo, the Nelson, and João Concliz. Some others. The Triol… And not I go valuing? I leave terra with them, of theirs the what is mine is, we close that we not even brothers. For what I want to gather richness? They are there, of arms aireated. Enemy to come, we cross called, gathering: is hour of one good shotshowerment in peace, they exp’riment to see. I say this to the Sir, of confidence. Too, not go to think in double. We want is to work, propose tranquility. Of me, person, I live for mine woman, that total mode-meliorate merits, and for the devotion. Well-to want of mine woman was that me assisted, prayers of hers, graces. Love comes of love. I say. In Diadorim, I think too— but Diadorim is the mine nebulina… Now, well: not I wanted to touch on this more— of the Tineaous; arrive. But has a nevertheless: I ask: the Sir believe, think trust of truth in that parlance, of with the demon so to able to deal with pact? No, no is no? I knew that not there. I spoke of favas. But I like of total good confirmation. To vend you proper soul… Inventionate false! And, soul, the what is? Soul of has to be thing internal supremed, much more of the of inside, and is solo, of the that one if thought: ah, soul sheer! Decision of to vend soul is fearless moll, fantasied of moment, has not the obedience legal. Can I to vend those good terras, thereof of between the Veredas-Four— that are of one Mr. Admiral, who resides in the capital federal? Can I some? Then, if one boy boy is, and for this not so authorizes of to negotiate… And we, this I know, at times is solo fated boy. Mal that in mine life I prepared, I was in a certain infancy in dreams — total runs and arrives so swift —; will be that if hath flame of responsibilities? If dream; yea so did… I gave rapadura to the chump! Ahem. Well. If his soul, and has, it is of Deus established, not even that the person want or not want. Not is vendible. The Sir not thinks? Me declare, frank, I beg. Ah, you I appreciate. You so see that the Sir knows much, in idea firm, beyond of to have letter of doctor. You I appreciate, for much. Your company me gives high pleasures. In terms, I liked that I would live here, or close, was a help. Here not so has conviviation that to instruct. Sertão. Knows the Sir: sertão is where the thought of the people so forms more forted of the than power of the place. To live is much perilous… Eh, that you so go? Yeayea? Is that not. Today, no. Tomorrow, no. Not I consense. The Sir me forgive, but in endeavor of mine friendship accept: the Sir stay. After fifth of-morning-early, the Sir wanting to go, then goes, same me leaves feeling your absence. But, today or tomorrow, no. Visit, here in house, with me, is for three days! But, the Sir really intends to trespass the field this sea of territotires, for sortment of to confer the what exists? You have your motives. Now— I say for me — the Sir comes, came late, Times were, the customs mutate. Almost that, of legitimate loyal, little surplus, not even no excess more nothing. The bands good of valientoughs they reparted their end; many who were jagunço, by ouch pain, beg alms. Same as the herdsmen they doubt of to come in the commerce vested of clothes entire of leather, they think that garb of jerkin is ugly and boor. And even the herd in the shrubbed pasture goes waning less mad, more educated: casted of zebu, dissee with the rest of corralers and captiveborns. Always, in the generals is to the poverty, to the sadness. A sadness that even gladdens. But, then, for a crop reasonable of bizzarancies, I recounsel of the Sir to entest journey more dilated. Not were my desmight, by acids and rheumatism, there I went. I guided the Sir till total. March 2013 San Diego, CA ORIGINAL TEXT NONADA. TIROS QUE O SENHOR ouviu foram de briga de homem não, Deus esteja. Alvejei mira em árvores no quintal, no baixo do córrego. Por meu acerto. Todo dia isso faço, gosto; desde mal em minha mocidade. Daí, vieram me chamar. Causa dumbezerro: um bezerro branco, erroso, os olhos de nem ser – se viu –; e com máscara de cachorro. Me disseram; eu não quis avistar. Mesmo que, por defeito como nasceu, arrebitado de beiços, esse figurava rindo feito pessoa. Cara de gente, cara de cão: determinaram – era o demo. Povo prascóvio. Mataram. Dono dele nem sei quem for. Vieram emprestar minhas armas, cedi. Não tenho abusões. O senhor ri certas risadas... Olhe: quando é tiro de verdade, primeiro a cachorrada pega a latir, instantaneamente – depois, então, se vai ver se deu mortos. O senhor tolere, isto é o sertão. Uns querem que não seja: que situado sertão é por os campos-gerais a fora a dentro, eles dizem, fim de rumo, terras altas, demais do Urucuia. Toleima. Para os de Corinto e do Curvelo, então, o aqui não é dito sertão? Ah, que tem maior! Lugar sertão se divulga: é onde os pastos carecem de fechos; onde um pode torar dez, quinze léguas, sem topar com casa de morador; e onde criminoso vive seu cristo-jesus, arredado do arrocho de autoridade. O Urucuia vem dos montões oestes. Mas, hoje, que na beira dele, tudo dá – fazendões de fazendas, almargem de vargens de bom render, as vazantes; culturas que vão de mata em mata, madeiras de grossura, até ainda virgens dessas lá há. O gerais corre em volta. Esses gerais são sem tamanho. Enfim, cada um o que quer aprova, o senhor sabe: pão ou pães, é questão de opiniães... O sertão está em toda a parte. Do demo? Não gloso. Senhor pergunte aos moradores. Em falso receio, desfalam no nome dele – dizem só: o Que-Diga. Vote! não... Quem muito se evita, se convive. Sentença num Aristides – o que existe no buritizal primeiro desta minha mão direita, chamado a Vereda-da-Vaca-Mansa-deSanta-Rita – todo o mundo crê: ele não pode passar em três lugares, designados: porque então a gente escuta um chorinho, atrás, e uma vozinha que avisando: – “Eu já vou! Eu já vou!...” – que é o capiroto, o que-diga... E um José Simpilício – quem qualquer daqui jura ele tem um capeta em casa, miúdo satanazim, preso obrigado a ajudar em toda ganância que executa; razão que o Simpilício se empresa em vias de completar de rico. Apre, por isso dizem também que a besta pra ele rupeia, nega de banda, não deixando, quando ele quer amontar... Superstição. José Simpilício e Aristides, mesmo estão se engordando, de assim nãoouvir ou ouvir. Ainda o senhor estude: agora mesmo, nestes dias de época, tem gente porfalando que o Diabo próprio parou, de passagem, no Andrequicé. Um Moço de fora, teria aparecido, e lá se louvou que, para aqui vir – normal, a cavalo, dum dia-e-meio – ele era capaz que só com uns vinte minutos bastava... porque costeava o Rio do Chico pelas cabeceiras! Ou, também, quem sabe – sem ofensas – não terá sido, por um exemplo, até mesmo o senhor quem se anunciou assim, quando passou por lá, por prazido divertimento engraçado? Há-de, não me dê crime, sei que não foi. E mal eu não quis. Só que uma pergunta, em hora, às vezes, clareia razão de paz. Mas, o senhor entenda: o tal moço, se há, quis mangar. Pois, hem, que, despontar o Rio pelas nascentes, será a mesma coisa que um se redobrar nos internos deste nosso Estado nosso, custante viagem de uns três meses... Então? Que-Diga? Doideira. A fantasiação. E, o respeito de dar a ele assim esses nomes de rebuço, é que é mesmo um querer invocar que ele forme forma, com as presenças! Não seja. Eu, pessoalmente, quase que já perdi nele a crença, mercês a Deus; é o que ao senhor lhe digo, à puridade. Sei que é bem estabelecido, que grassa nos Santos- Evangelhos. Em ocasião, conversei com um rapaz seminarista, muito condizente, conferindo no livro de rezas e revestido de paramenta, com uma vara de maria-preta na mão – proseou que ia adjutorar o padre, para extraírem o Cujo, do corpo vivo de uma velha, na Cachoeira-dos-Bois, ele ia com o vigário do Campo-Redondo... Me concebo. O senhor não é como eu? Não acreditei patavim. Compadre meu Quelemém descreve que o que revela efeito são os baixos espíritos descarnados, de terceira, fuzuando nas piores trevas e com ânsias de se travarem com os viventes – dão encosto. Compadre meu Quelemém é quem muito me consola – Quelemém de Góis. Mas ele tem de morar longe daqui, na Jijujã, Vereda do Buriti Pardo... Arres, me deixe lá, que – em endemoninhamento ou com encosto – o senhor mesmo deverá de ter conhecido diversos, homens, mulheres. Pois não sim? Por mim, tantos vi, que aprendi. Rincha- Mãe, Sangued’Outro, o Muitos-Beiços, o Rasgaem-Baixo, Faca-Fria, o Fancho-Bode, um Treciziano, o Azinhavre... o Hermógenes... Deles, punhadão. Se eu pudesse esquecer tantos nomes... Não sou amansador de cavalos! E, mesmo, quem de si de ser jagunço se entrete, já é por alguma competência entrante do demônio. Será não? Será? De primeiro, eu fazia e mexia, e pensar não pensava. Não possuía os prazos. Vivi puxando difícil de dificel, peixe vivo no moquém: quem mói no asp’ro, não fantaseia. Mas, agora, feita a folga que me vem, e sem pequenos dessossegos, estou de range rede. E me inventei neste gosto, de especular idéia. O diabo existe e não existe? Dou o dito. Abrenúncio. Essas melancolias. O senhor vê: existe cachoeira; e pois? Mas cachoeira é barranco de chão, e água se caindo por ele, retombando; o senhor consome essa água, ou desfaz o barranco, sobra cachoeira alguma? Viver é negócio muito perigoso... Explico ao senhor: o diabo vige dentro do homem, os crespos do homem – ou é o homem arruinado, ou o homem dos avessos. Solto, por si, cidadão, é que não tem diabo nenhum. Nenhum! – é o que digo. O senhor aprova? Me declare tudo, franco – é alta mercê que me faz: e pedir posso, encarecido. Este caso – por estúrdio que me vejam – é de minha certa importância. Tomara não fosse... Mas, não diga que o senhor, assisado e instruído, que acredita na pessoa dele?! Não? Lhe agradeço! Sua alta opinião compõe minha valia. Já sabia, esperava por ela-já o campo! Ah, a gente, na velhice, carece de ter sua aragem de descanso. Lhe agradeço. Tem diabo nenhum. Nem espírito. Nunca vi. Alguém devia de ver, então era eu mesmo, este vosso servidor. Fosse lhe contar... Bem, o diabo regula seu estado preto, nas criaturas, nas mulheres, nos homens. Até: nas crianças – eu digo. Pois não é ditado: “menino – trem do diabo”? E nos usos, nas plantas, nas águas, na terra, no vento... Estrumes. ... O diabo na rua, no meio do redemunho... Hem? Hem? Ah. Figuração minha, de pior pra trás, as certas lembranças. Mal hajame! Sofro pena de contar não... Melhor, se arrepare: pois, num chão, e com igual formato de ramos e folhas, não dá a mandioca mansa, que se come comum, e a mandioca-brava, que mata? Agora, o senhor já viu uma estranhez? A mandioca-doce pode de repente virar azangada – motivos não sei; às vezes se diz que é por replantada no terreno sempre, com mudas seguidas, de manaíbas – vai em amargando, de tanto em tanto, de si mesma toma peçonhas. E, ora veja: a outra, a mandiocabrava, também é que às vezes pode ficar mansa, a esmo, de se comer sem nenhum mal. E que isso é? Eh, o senhor já viu, por ver, a feiúra de ódio franzido, carantonho, nas faces duma cobra cascavel? Observou o porco gordo, cada dia mais feliz bruto, capaz de, pudesse, roncar e engolir por sua suja comodidade o mundo todo? E gavião, corvo, alguns, as feições deles já representam a precisão de talhar para adiante, rasgar e estraçalhar a bico, parece uma quicé muito afiada por ruim desejo. Tudo. Tem até tortas raças de pedras, horrorosas, venenosas – que estragam mortal a água, se estão jazendo em fundo de poço; o diabo dentro delas dorme: são o demo. Se sabe? E o demo – que é só assim o significado dum azougue maligno – tem ordem de seguir o caminho dele, tem licença para campear?! Arre, ele está misturado em tudo. Que o que gasta, vai gastando o diabo de dentro da gente, aos pouquinhos, é o razoável sofrer. E a alegria de amor – compadre meu Quelemém, diz. Família. Deveras? É, e não é. O senhor ache e não ache. Tudo é e não é... Quase todo mais grave criminoso feroz, sempre é muito bom marido, bom filho, bom pai, e é bom amigo-de-seus-amigos! Sei desses. Só que tem os depois – e Deus, junto. Vi muitas nuvens. Mas, em verdade, filho, também, abranda. Olhe: um chamado Aleixo, residente a légua do Passo do Pubo, no da-Areia, era o homem de maiores ruindades calmas que já se viu. Me agradou que perto da casa dele tinha um açudinho, entre as palmeiras, com traíras, pra-almas de enormes, desenormes, ao real, que receberam fama; o Aleixo dava de comer a elas, em horas justas, elas se acostumaram a se assim das locas, para papar, semelhavam ser peixes ensinados. Um dia, só por graça rústica, ele matou um velhinho que por lá passou, desvalido rogando esmola. O senhor não duvide – tem gente, neste aborrecido mundo, que matam só para ver alguém fazer careta... Eh, pois, empós, o resto o senhor prove: vem o pão, vem a mão, vem o são, vem o cão. Esse Aleixo era homem afamilhado, tinha filhos pequenos; aqueles eram o amor dele, todo, despropósito. Dê bem, que não nem um ano estava passado, de se matar o velhinho pobre, e os meninos do Aleixo aí adoeceram. Andaço de sarampão, se disse, mas complicado; eles nunca saravam. Quando, então, sararam. Mas os olhos deles vermelhavam altos, numa inflama de sapiranga à rebelde; e susseguinte – o que não sei é se foram todos duma vez, ou um logo e logo outro e outro – eles restaram cegos. Cegos, sem remissão dum favinho de luz dessa nossa! O senhor imagine: uma escadinha – três meninos e uma menina – todos cegados. Sem remediável. O Aleixo não perdeu o juizo; mas mudou: ah, demudou completo – agora vive da banda de Deus, suando para ser bom e caridoso em todas suas horas da noite e do dia. Parece até que ficou o feliz, que antes não era. Ele mesmo diz que foi um homem de sorte, porque Deus quis ter pena dele, transformar para lá o rumo de sua alma. Isso eu ouvi, e me deu raiva. Razão das crianças. Se sendo castigo, que culpa das hajas do Aleixo aqueles meninozinhos tinham?! Compadre meu Quelemém reprovou minhas incertezas. Que, por certo, noutra vida revirada, os meninos também tinham sido os mais malvados, da massa e peça do pai, demônios do mesmo caldeirão de lugar. Senhor o que acha? E o velhinho assassinado? – eu sei que o senhor vai discutir. Pois, também. Em ordem que ele tinha um pecado de crime, no corpo, por pagar. Se a gente – conforme compadre meu Quelemém é quem diz – se a gente torna a encarnar renovado, eu cismo até que inimigo de morte pode vir como filho do inimigo. Mire veja: se me digo, tem um sujeito Pedro Pindó, vizinho daqui mais seis léguas, homem de bem por tudo em tudo, ele e a mulher dele, sempre sidos bons, de bem. Eles têm um filho duns dez anos, chamado Valtei – nome moderno, é o que o povo daqui agora apreceia, o senhor sabe. Pois essezinho, essezim, desde que algum entendimento alumiou nele, feito mostrou o que é: pedido madrasto, azedo queimador, gostoso de ruim de dentro do fundo das espécies de sua natureza. Em qual que judia, ao devagar, de todo bicho ou criaçãozinha pequena que pega; uma vez, encontrou uma crioula bentabêbada dormindo, arranjou um caco de garrafa, lanhou em três pontos a popa da perna dela. O que esse menino babeja vendo, é sangrarem galinha ou esfaquear porco. – “Eu gosto de matar...” – uma ocasião ele pequenino me disse. Abriu em mim um susto; porque: passarinho que se debruça – o vôo já está pronto! Pois, o senhor vigie: o pai, Pedro Pindó, modo de corrigir isso, e a mãe, dão nele, de miséria e mastro – botam o menino sem comer, amarram em árvores no terreiro, ele nu nuelo, mesmo em junho frio, lavram o corpinho dele na peia e na taca, depois limpam a pele do sangue, com cuia de salmoura. A gente sabe, espia, fica gasturado. O menino já rebaixou de magreza, os olhos entrando, carinha de ossos, encaveirada, e entisicou, o tempo todo tosse, tossura da que puxa secos peitos. Arre, que agora, visível, o Pindó e a mulher se habituaram de nele bater, de pouquinho em pouquim foram criando nisso um prazer feio de diversão – como regulam as sovas em horas certas confortáveis, até chamam gente para ver o exemplo bom. Acho que esse menino não dura, já está no blimbilim, não chega para a quaresma que vem... Uê-uê, então?!Não sendo como compadre meu Quelemém quer, que explicação é que o senhor dava? Aquele menino tinha sido homem. Devia, em balanço, terríveis perversidades. Alma dele estava no breu. Mostrava. E, agora, pagava. Ah, mas, acontece, quando está chorando e penando, ele sofre igual que se fosse um menino bonzinho... Ave, vi de tudo, neste mundo! lá vi até cavalo com soluço... – o que é a coisa mais custosa que há. Bem, mas o senhor dirá, deve de: e no começo – para pecados e artes, as pessoas – como por que foi que tanto emendado se começou? Ei, ei, aí todos esbarram. Compadre meu Quelemém, também. Sou só um sertanejo, nessas altas idéias navego mal. Sou muito pobre coitado. Inveja minha pura é de uns conforme o senhor, com toda leitura e suma doutoração. Não é que eu esteja analfabeto. Soletrei, anos e meio, meante cartilha, memória e palmatória. Tive mestre, Mestre Lucas, no Curralinho, decorei gramática, as operações, regra-de-três, até geografia e estudo pátrio. Em folhas grandes de papel, com capricho tracei bonitos mapas. Ah, não é por falar: mas, desde o começo, me achavam sofismado de ladino. E que eu merecia de ir para cursar latim, em Aula Régia – que também diziam. Tempo saudoso! Inda hoje, apreceio um bom livro, despaçado. Na fazenda O Limãozinho, de um meu amigo Vito Soziano, se assina desse almanaque grosso, de logogrifos e charadas e outras divididas matérias, todo ano vem. Em tanto, ponho primazia é na leitura proveitosa, vida de santo, virtudes e exemplos – missionário esperto engambelando os índios, ou São Francisco de Assis, Santo Antônio, São Geraldo... Eu gosto muito de moral. Raciocinar, exortar os outros para o bom caminho, aconselhar a justo. Minha mulher, que o senhor sabe, zela por mim: muito reza. Ela é uma abençoável. Compadre meu Quelemém sempre diz que eu posso aquietar meu temer de consciência, que sendo bem-assistido, terríveis bons-espíritos me protegem. Ipe! Com gosto... Como é de são efeito, ajudo com meu querer acreditar. Mas nem sempre posso. O senhor saiba: eu toda a minha vida pensei por mim, forro, sou nascido diferente. Eu sou é eu mesmo. Diverjo de todo o mundo... Eu quase que nada não sei. Mas desconfio de muita coisa. O senhor concedendo, eu digo: para pensar longe, sou cão mestre – o senhor solte em minha frente uma idéia ligeira, e eu rastreio essa por fundo de todos os matos, amém! Olhe: o que devia de haver, era de se reunirem-se os sábios, políticos, constituições gradas, fecharem o definitivo a noção – proclamar por uma vez, artes assembléias, que não tem diabo nenhum, não existe, não pode. Valor de lei! Só assim, davam tranqüilidade boa à gente. Por que o Governo não cuida?! Ah, eu sei que não é possível. Não me assente o senhor por beócio. Uma coisa é pôr idéias arranjadas, outra é lidar com país de pessoas, de carne e sangue, de mil-e-tantas misérias... Tanta gente – dá susto de saber – e nenhum se sossega: todos nascendo, crescendo, se casando, querendo colocação de emprego, comida, saúde, riqueza, ser importante, querendo chuva e negócios bons... De sorte que carece de se escolher: ou a gente se tece de viver no safado comum, ou cuida só de religião só. Eu podia ser: padre sacerdote, se não chefe de jagunços; para outras coisas não fui parido. Mas minha velhice já principiou, errei de toda conta. E o reumatismo... Lá como quem diz: nas escorvas. Ahã. Hem? Hem? O que mais penso, testo e explico: todo-omundo é louco. O senhor, eu, nós, as pessoas todas. Por isso é que se carece principalmente de religião: para se desendoidecer, desdoidar. Reza é que sara da loucura. No geral. Isso é que é a salvaçãoda- alma... Muita religião, seu moço! Eu cá, não perco ocasião de religião. Aproveito de todas. Bebo água de todo rio... Uma só, para mim é pouca, talvez não me chegue. Rezo cristão, católico, embrenho a certo; e aceito as preces de compadre meu Quelemém, doutrina dele, de Cardéque. Mas, quando posso, vou no Mindubim, onde um Matias é crente, metodista: a gente se acusa de pecador, lê alto a Bíblia, e ora, cantando hinos belos deles. Tudo me quieta, me suspende. Qualquer sombrinha me refresca. Mas é só muito provisório. Eu queria rezar – o tempo todo. Muita gente não me aprova, acham que lei de Deus é privilégios, invariável. E eu! Bofe! Detesto! O que sou? – o que faço, que quero, muito curial. E em cara de todos faço, executado. Eu não tresmalho! Olhe: tem uma preta, Maria Leôncia, longe daqui não mora, as rezas dela afamam muita virtude de poder. Pois a ela pago, todo mês – encomenda de rezar por mim um terço, todo santo dia, e, nos domingos, um rosário. Vale, se vale. Minha mulher não vê mal nisso. E estou, já mandei recado para uma outra, do Vau-Vau, uma Izina Calanga, para vir aqui, ouvi de que reza também com grandes meremerências, vou efetuar com ela trato igual. Quero punhado dessas, me defendendo em Deus, reunidas de mim em volta... Chagas de Cristo! Viver é muito perigoso... Querer o bem com demais força, de incerto jeito, pode já estar sendo se querendo o mal, por principiar. Esses homens! Todos puxavam o mundo para si, para o concertar consertado. Mas cada um só vê e entende as coisas dum seu modo. Montante, o mais supro, mais sério – foi Medeiro Vaz. Que um homem antigo... Seu Joãozinho Bem-Bem, o mais bravo de todos, ninguém nunca pôde decifrar como ele por dentro consistia. Joca Ramiro – grande homem príncipe! – era político. Zé- Bebelo quis ser político. (shrink)

https://revistes.uab.cat/enrahonar/article/view/v37-tobin.

This study investigates the problem of the natural universal in the works of Mullā Ṣadrā. The problem of universals made its way into Arabic/Islamic philosophy via its Greek sources, and was transformed into the problem of natural universals by Avicenna. Weighing in on this problem, Ṣadrā reinterprets the nature of natural universals against the backdrop of his doctrine of “the primacy of being.” As he argues, a natural universal or quiddity qua quiddity is an “accidental being” that requireswujūdfor its existentiation. (...) Thus, Ṣadrā re-envisions the status of natural universals by stripping them of their disputed status as independently existing entities.RésuméDans cette étude je me propose de réfléchir sur le problème de l'universel naturel dans l’œuvre de Mullā Ṣadrā. Le problème des universaux s'est introduit dans la philosophie arabe et musulmaneviales sources grecques et s'est trouvé transformé en celui des “universaux naturels” aux mains d'Avicenne. En contribuant à son tour à l’évolution de ce problème, Ṣadrā réinterpréta le statut des universaux naturels à partir de sa propre doctrine de la “primauté de l’être”. Selon lui, un universel naturel ou “quiddité en tant que quiddité” est un “être par accident” qui requiertwujūdpour son existentiation. Ainsi, Ṣadrā re-envisage le statut des universaux naturels en les privant de leur statut contesté en tant qu'entités “indépendantes existantes”. (shrink)

continent. 1.2 (2011): 136-140. In early 2011, Cow Heavy Books published The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature , a compendium of catalog 'blurbs' for non-existent desired or ideal texts. Along with Erinrose Mager, I edited the project, in a process that was more like curation as it mainly entailed asking a range of contemporary writers, theorists, and text-makers to send us an entry. What resulted was a creative/critical hybrid anthology, a small book in which each page opens (...) to a new iteration of textual desire. These texts explore the material possibilities of the book. Somewhat parallel to the call of N. Katherine Hayles who, in her book Writing Machines , urges literary theorists to take up the practice of Medium Specific Analysis (to account for the way the medium in which it is presented conditions or at least bears on a literary text). I see in the imagined works of The Official Catalog a call for the innovative writers of today to become Medium-Responsive. This would mean thinking through the specific (materially constrained) possibilities offered by the media in which texts are presented, and in thinking of the literary text as a kind of art in the greater context of other arts and the book as a medium situated within the context of many other media. In doing so, the contemporary writer refutes the chorus of critics who lament the death of the book by consistently reinvigorating literary innovation. The following are selections from The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature that show possible paths for (thinking about) new writing that engages with its medium. —Ben Segal, Editor THE CUBE Even the most radical non-linear texts have tended to exploit or subvert only the sequential possibilities of print—from the continuous loop of Joyce's Finnegans Wake to the shuffled cards of Marc Saporta's Composition No. 1 —but The Cube takes such multiplicities to an entirely new level. Set in a grid, the book's words can be read conventionally, across the page, as well as down each column—with either route making complete grammatical sense. But they can also be read as stacked strata and mined like lexical core samples through the layered pages of the book. Each path tells the same story from a different perspective (the narrative, naturally, hinges on the potential outcomes of a throw of cubed dice). By opening up the z-axis to reading in this way, The Cube recognizes the book as a three-dimensional sculptural space. Taking its lead from Armand Schwerner's (If Personal) and Raymond Queneau's Cent mille milliards de poèmes , The Cube reads like a experiment by Christian Bök precision printed by Emily McVarish. Craig Dworkin is the editor, most recently, of The Consequence of Innovation: 21st Century Poetics (Roof Books, 2008), The Sound of Poetry/The Poetry of Sound , with Marjorie Perloff (U. Chicago Press, 2009), and Against Expression: An Anthology of Conceptual Writing , with Kenneth Goldsmith (Northwestern UP, 2010). He teaches at the University of Utah. HE GOES In He Goes , we read notes, letters and e-mails from a scholar father to his novelist daughter. We read of the father's musings on Beckett, on Pinter, on Anne Frank; his description of a woman hanging laundry from a line. We read about his journey toward dying, followed by a brief, third person account of his death, and his obituary. Then a long series of blank pages that demand to be read in real time, non-sentence by non-sentence, blank page by blank page. Finally—and it is here that this peculiar little book begins to soar—the dead father writes to his as-of-yet-still-living daughter. He does not write from death. He does not write from life. The words unprint, unstamp, unkindle. Still, they require no translation. The father "writes" (for lack of a better word) about the serendipitous, the commonplace; he recommends another book. He jokes. He asks his daughter how her stomach is. He says forget about presence in absence, darling; screw words as memorial and the guys in garbage cans and loss as redemption and I can't go on I must go on. He goes, "Love, Fodder." He goes, "incidentally." He goes, "I thought you might like to know." Elizabeth Graver is the author of a story collection, Have You Seen Me? , and three novels: Unravelling ; The Honey Thief ; and Awake . Her work has been anthologized in Best American Short Stories , Best American Essays , and Prize Stories: the O. Henry Awards . She teaches at Boston College. THE PAPER ARCHIVIST A stunning package and a triumph of imagination, The Paper Archivist at times looks to be less a book than an abstract expressionist painting. Softly bound, its contents unfold to a single sheet of uneven thickness and texture—a canvas splattered with colored lines, stickers, broken sentences, and nonsense pictographs. But by following the directions to fold, dip, smell, rub, scratch, and tear the sheet according to the contingencies of the weather and using only the objects at hand, the reader slowly brings the forces hidden in the noise into a glorious sculptural convergence, processing a different story and shape each time. This is the rare book that continues to stir, whirl, and pop on every new reading. Sean Higgins blogs at BOMBlog where he is responsible for the column Volumes and Territories, as well as Ghost Island , a fledgling collaborative intellectual collective. THE SLOW BOOK The Slow Book , written by an anonymous author at the dawn of literacy, on a minor planet (otherwise notable only as the source of that exceptionally hardy, not very tasty grain called “shef” sowed on hostile planets as an early step to colonization), and encoded into a series of punctures on a strip of copper coiled inside a clever device, something between a player piano and an old-fashioned film projector, is being released into print, as was the author’s intention, at a rate of one word per century (local time). Each word is, across the Forty Galaxies, agreed to be uncannily apt for the century in which it appears—even “of,” in a century during which the highest value was attached to fidelity, whether to ideals, worlds, or romantic love; even “the,” which governed two centuries, one extraordinarily materialistic, during which advances in propulsion and navigation accelerated the exchange of exceptional objects between the remotest planets of the Forty, and one in which the central concern, both of philosophers and the common man, was whether, in an age of rapidly proliferating hypothetical worlds, anyone or anything concretely existed at all. Even those words published long before interstellar contact can be seen in retrospect to have transgalactic pertinence. As a result, attempts to abstract the machine from its publishers, Hobson & Hui, in order to “predict the future” for insight or gain by “fast- forwarding” the copper strip have been many and ingenious. While, in centuries of skepticism (“maybe”), or of unrest (“go”) the book has been nearly forgotten, in others it seems to haunt every thought, every deed, despite the fact that the subject of The Slow Book is still unclear. So far only a few sentences exist in print; everyone knows them, can quote them, offer the standard exegeses and assorted heresies; yet certainties are the stuff of adolescence; mature readers are forced to acknowledge that these sentences are probably only a preamble to the main argument. They contain no proper nouns, nor can we identify any definite theme. There is even disagreement about their tone, whether coolly ironic, as some insist, or ardent. The appearance of an unusual grammatical case, sometimes called the future pluperfect continuous, used to describe events that at some future point will have always been true (but are not yet)—hitherto known to appear only in the synthetic dogmas of the Thanatographical Society, and in certain highly circumscribed religious contexts—has suggested to some scholars that the Slow Book was originally intended for ritual use, but the proximity of the usage to a term designating a small hand plow that, as Pott and Mielcke have convincingly shown, would have borne a distinctly obscene double meaning in its culture of origin in the author’s time, argues otherwise. It is likewise unclear whether the situation that seems to be—with teasing incompleteness—sketched out in these few lines is intended as an illustration of general principles, a case study, a dramatic scene, or an extended metaphor. In short, we have no idea what The Slow Book is about. In our own time, we believe that it is almost certainly a work of fiction, but that may be because we live in the century of “if”. In each age, perhaps, we see the book we most need to read. Some have dared to suggest that the metal strip is blank until, with millennial fanfare, it advances into its new position, that no ur-text exists, that the book itself is brought into being—written—by our need. But that is exactly the sort of thing we would believe, in 7645. Shelley Jackson is the author of the story collection The Melancholy of Anatomy , the novel Half Life , and hypertexts including Patchwork Girl . The recipient of a Howard Foundation grant, a Pushcart Prize, and the 2006 James Tiptree Jr Award, she has also written and illustrated several children's books, including The Old Woman and the Wave ; Sophia, the Alchemist's Dog ; and Mimi's Dada Catifesto . Her stories and essays have appeared in Conjunctions , McSweeney's , The Paris Review , and Cabinet Magazine . In 2004 she launched her project SKIN , a story published in tattoos on 2095 volunteers. THE BOOK OF SOUNDS The Book of Sounds is just that: a book of sounds made when letters are construed in new ways to bring forth out of the alphabet new forms of speech. A book meant to be read out loud, The Book of Sounds is not unlike Laurie Anderson's O Superman or Brian Eno's Music for Airports in its attempt to make music out of the most primary and simplest of methods. It breaks language down to its barest bones and makes out of the page a drum that has never before been beaten upon. Peter Markus is the author of a novel, Bob, or Man on Boat (Dzanc Books) as well as two books of short fiction, Good, Brother and The Singing Fish , both of which were published by Calamari Press. A new collection of stories, We Make Mud , is now available from Dzanc Books. PARADISE OF THE BLIND by Celan Solen Although the reclusive Celan Solen published his first and only book in 1963—paying out-of-pocket for a limited edition of the slim collection No One May Have the Same Knowledge Again —he remained in American obscurity for almost three decades. In 1992 a micro-press in Istanbul brought out No One in Turkish. A German translation followed in 1995. Soon it became clear in literary circles Solen was a world-class (if highly unclassifiable) artist—lyrical, dense, enigmatic—who could undo the conventional short story in 397 words by inventing impossible worlds housed in impossible whirls (in “Small Sadnesses,” a single chartreuse tree frog in Borneo unknowingly holds time together by its very presence in the universe, while each letter of its tale refers, not to itself, but to the one preceding it in the alphabet). By his disappearance last year, Solen was considered master by a generation of writers and critics (except, alas, for those gentlemen in the Swedish Academy). Imagine, then, that generation’s delight at the discovery, locked away in the author’s safe-deposit box, of his second and final composition. Had Lynch’s Lost Highway been book instead of film, and had it been penned by Beckett at his least certain, revised by Barthelme at his most formally deranged, and typeset by Derrida at his most semiotically catastrophic, the result might have been something like Paradise of the Blind : interlacing narratives of a man composed of borrowed organs (whose most cheerless and difficult to locate, god, could only have been invented by an empty heart), a nonexistent medieval painting blamed for the ruin of future hope, and the spread of a philosophy that holds earth a mistake constantly recurring in the dream of a fish lying on the floor of the Atlantic (if the fish wakes, our world winks off)—all contained in a text packed with typed-over passages, torn postcards, poems that can be deciphered only when held up to a mirror, pages ornamented with trompe-l'œil paperclips and coffee stains and buzzing houseflies, some busy with illegible runes that dissolve when exposed to light, three that smell like roses or lemons (depending on whether a man or woman is reading), two that stain with the bloody fingerprints of the those who handle them, one that ignites when brushed with breath, thirteen sewn from baby skin, one that moans when touched, and one that screams—yet all without mass, unimaginable, and invisible. Lance Olsen is author of more than 20 books of and about innovative fiction, including, most recently, the novels Calendar of Regrets (2010) and Head in Flames (2009). He teaches experimental narrative theory and practice at the University of Utah. SUPERSTRUCTURE! by Barbara D'Albi As soon as I opened the third drawer of Barbara D'Albi's wooden novel, everything became hopeless. Now in Ithaca, there was no going back. And it wasn't just the intricate series of shelves, hinged doors and locked drawers which D'Albi layered into the book, no, lo, I was constructed anew by the story. Who else but D'Albi to imagine a God who becomes a carpenter and gets killed?! And makes it good! You want stories? D'Albi is a skyscraper, built with planes and levers. Momentarily I wondered where I could shelve this book, and then I thought: no matter; I couldn't put it down. Adam Robinson lives in Baltimore, where he runs Publishing Genius. He is the author of Adam Robison and Other Poems and Say, Poem. (shrink)

El més gran dels pensadors i el més petit dels homes”; amb aquestes paraules va referir-se Gadamer d'una manera molt punyent a la desconcertant figura del seu mestre, Martin Heidegger. L’autor d’Ésser i temps ens ha deixat en herència no només una obra filosòfica capaç d’exercir una grandíssima influència, sinó també el repte d’interpretar la tensió entre vida i pensament. Hem de creure que cal una gran vida per tal que hi hagi un gran pensament? O hem d’admetre que (...) no hi ha cap relació entre una cosa i l’altra i, per tant, que un gran pensador pot adherir-se de forma entusiasta a un dels règims polítics més abjectes de la història d’Europa sense comprometre la qualitat de la seva producció filosòfica? Heidegger és segurament un exponent d'una Europa contradictòria i angoixant: no només un representant excepcional de la millor tradició filosòfica, sinó també de les grans bogeries i pors del segle XX. (shrink)

U članku se nastoji pokazati na koji način francuski filozof Paul Ricœur »prisvaja« neke od Augustinovih koncepcija – prvi grijeh, vrijeme, »nutarnji učitelj« i pamćenje – i uključuje ih u svoje promišljanje o razumijevanju i samorazumijevanju ljudskog »bitka u svijetu« posredstvom interpretacije teksta. Ricœurovo »prisvajanje« tekstova koji hrane i obogaćuju njegovo vlastito promišljanje, kompleksno je i slojevito. Pojedini stručnjaci, međutim, upućuju ovakvom »prisvajanju« kritike. Tako Isabelle Bochet u knjizi Augustin dans la pensée de Paul Ricœur , u preciznoj analizi Augustinova (...) utjecaja na Ricœura, zamjera Ricœuru proizvoljan pristup kakav privilegira jedne, a zanemaruje druge aspekte Augustinove misli. Ona mu, zapravo, prigovara da ne prisvaja teološke argumente Augustinove rasprave, nju samu time lišavajući bitne dimenzije. Da bi se odgovorilo na pitanje: na čemu se ovakva kritika, zapravo, temelji, valjalo bi se ponovno pitati što uopće jest hermeneutičko »prisvajanje« te kakva je priroda veze između teologije i filozofije.Dans cet article on essaye de montrer comment le philosophe français Paul Ricœur « approprie » certaines conceptions d’Augustin – péché originel, temps, « maître interieur », mémoire – et les inclue dans sa propre pensée sur la comphrension et autocomprehension « d’être dans le monde » par intermédiare de l’interprétation. « L’appropriation » des textes qui nourissent et enrichissent la pensée de Ricœur est complexe et elle a plusieurs couches. Certains experts, cependant, adressent à tel « appropriation » ses critiques. Isabelle Bochet , dans son analyse précis de l’influence d’Augustin sur Ricœur, reproche à Ricœur son appropriation provisoire qui privilège les uns et néglige les autres aspects de la pensée d’Augustin. Elle lui rapproche, en effet, qu’il n’aproprie pas les arguments théologiques de la discussion d’Augustin en la dépouillant de sa dimension essentielle. Pour qu’on puisse répondre sur la question: sur quoi se fonde telle critique, il faut se demander de nouveau qu’est que c’est que « l’appropriation » hérméneutique et quelle est la nature da la relation entre la théologie et la philosophie. (shrink)

La genealogia de la moral de Nietzsche, resulta extremadament pertinent per una epistemologia del bé relativa a les incisions institucionals sobre part de la població del Raval. Primer, sobre Raval s’haurien dut a terme tot tipus d’abusos, com destruccions d’habitatges i de trama urbana, així com persecucions o expulsions de població, pel bé del barri o de la ciutat. Si això és així, es pot afirmar que les convergències institucionals en aquest punt es sustenten en una epistemologia interessada. Segon, el (...) pathos de la distància definit per Nietzsche, així com l’assumpció per part de les noves ideologies urbanístiques del primitiu paper de la “casta sacerdotal”, permetrien actualitzar la crítica envers “el civisme”, entès aquest, com l’expressió més recent i efectiva de les cultures de control. I tercer, aquesta epistemologia interessada, permetria reclamar la noció marxiana de lluita de classes per interpretar un crònic i generalitzat menyspreu sobre una part important de la població més irredempta d’un dels barris més convulsos d’Europa. (shrink)

La genealogia de la moral de Nietzsche, resulta extremadament pertinent per una epistemologia del bé relativa a les incisions institucionals sobre part de la població del Raval. Primer, sobre Raval s�haurien dut a terme tot tipus d�abusos, com destruccions d�habitatges i de trama urbana, així com persecucions o expulsions de població, pel bé del barri o de la ciutat. Si això és així, es pot afirmar que les convergències institucionals en aquest punt es sustenten en una epistemologia interessada. Segon, el (...) pathos de la distància definit per Nietzsche, així com l�assumpció per part de les noves ideologies urbanístiques del primitiu paper de la �casta sacerdotal�, permetrien actualitzar la crítica envers �el civisme�, entès aquest, com l�expressió més recent i efectiva de les cultures de control. I tercer, aquesta epistemologia interessada, permetria reclamar la noció marxiana de lluita de classes per interpretar un crònic i generalitzat menyspreu sobre una part important de la població més irredempta d�un dels barris més convulsos d�Europa. (shrink)

Aquesta publicació recull els textos de les ponències de "L'encontre Fora d'equi libri", organitzat pel Departament de Cultura i Mitjans de Comunicació els dies 5, 6 i 7 de setembre de 2008, que planteja el paper de la inestabilitat i la tra nsformació en el món contemporani. Les causes, els mecanismes i les conseqüèncie s d'estar fora d'equilibri apareixen de forma diversa en els més diversos àmbits de les ciències, les humanitats i la creació en general. L'encontre s'organitzàe (...) n tres sessions: "homo ecologicus", que reflexiona sobre el fer de manera respec tuosa amb l'ambient; "viure el canvi", que reflexiona sobre la necessitat d'adap tació a un món canviant, i "artistes al laboratori", que reflexiona sobre les co ndicions favorables al procés de creació. (shrink)

Actualment en Filosofia, tenim dues caracteritzacions canóniques sobre la naturalesa de la Metafísica, la carnapiana i la quineana, tot i que són dues tesis diferenciades, ambdues coincideixen en que la Metafísica és reduïda a qüestions d'existència. No obstant, Kathrin Koslicki considera que aquestes caracteritzacions de la naturalesa de la Metafísica són errònies i que comporten una crítica explícita a la Metafísica o redueixen la resolució dels problemes metafísics a un pragmatisme. Per això, Koslicki considerant que els desacords metafísics són legítims (...) i profunds, tenint com a marc de referència la filosofia aristotèlica, considera que la tesi quineana i carnapiana no reflecteixen bé la naturalesa de la Metafísica, ja que, hi ha disputes metafísiques que es deuen a disputes no-existencials sobre temes de fonamentabilitat. Koslicki considera que la Metafísica no pot ésser reduïda a qüestions d'existència, sinó que ha de ser pensada com la reflexió de quines entitats són fonamentals, i quines són derivades d'aquestes. L'article està dividit en una primera part introductòria sobre els meus objectius, seguit d'una breu exposició de les tesis carnapiana i quineana de la metafísica, i per últim l'exposició de la proposta neo-aristotèlica de Koslicki. (shrink)

En la gran producció filosòfica d’Eusebi Colomer, s’hi poden distingir tres grans centres d’interès particularment destacats. En primer lloc, la seva dedicació a l’estudi del pensament de Ramon Llull i de Nicolau de Cusa. La seva tesi doctoral va mostrar les influències lul·lianes en l’obra de Nicolau de Cusa a partir de les anotacions autògrafes en què el jove Nicolau es feia ressò de les coses que més li interessaven de Llull. El segon gran centre d’interès el van constituir, naturalment, (...) els grans corrents de la filosofia alemanya moderna i contemporània. Des dels anys d’estudiant s’havia familiaritzat particularment amb l’idealisme, la fenomenologia i la filosofia de l’existència. Finalment, el seu tercer centre d’interès va ser el diàleg filosòfico-teològic. Colomer lamentava profundament el divorci produït entre la filosofia i la teologia. Adaptant una coneguda formulació de Kant, pensava que la teologia sense filosofia és cega, però que la filosofia sense teologia és buida. Format en la tradició metafísica espiritualista i defensor de l’humanisme cristià, Colomer es trobava, però, a les antípodes de qualsevol sectarisme o dogmatisme. La seva formació, el seu tarannà i, segurament, els seus enormes coneixements de la història de la filosofia, li havien conferit una gran capacitat per al diàleg. Ell no veia el diàleg com un recurs o com una tàctica, sinó com un element constitutiu de l’ésser humà. \n. (shrink)

Pour Plotin, toutes les formes de vie procedent de l'activite spirituelle rendue possible par l'ineffable perfection de l'Un. Tous les vivants, les vegetaux, les animaux et les astres, n'agissent que grace a une contemplation qui vise a se remplir d'un contenu intelligible. La nature sublunaire ou les hommes se trouvent etablis est donc doublement fondee: par la Participation aux idees et par la Procession des differentes modalites psychiques. Le monde sensible est la plus belle image de la beaute de l'intelligence, (...) c'est-a-dire de l'etre lui-meme. La pensee de Plotin, notamment par une doctrine originale de la Providence, montre que la Nature est une traduction de l'Esprit. (shrink)

“En aquestes conferències he tractat de ressaltar que, si tenim una explicació ferma i precisa de com pensem el món —i sobre el que hi percebem, hi sentim i hi creiem—, podem veure que l’única cosa que faria atractiu el ‘subjectivisme’ és la defensa d’una concepció molt restringida del contingut de les experiències i els sentiments que tenim al nostre abast. Amb la bellesa i la causalitat trobàrem que ni tan sols podíem identificar els sentiments o les experiències en qüesti. (...) sense tenir ja prèviament la idea de bellesa o de causalitat que apliquem al món en aquests mateixos judicis. Semblava que el ‘subjectivisme’ prometia més en el cas dels colors i dels valors. Però allò que creiem sobre els colors dels objectes del món semblava massa estretament implicat en la nostra comprensió de les percepcions de color perquè poguem considerar que aquestes percepcions són res més que sensacions de determinats tipus. I el fet de prendre certes consideracions com a raons per a actuar de determinada manera també semblava estar massa estretament implicat en què volem i com decidim actuar perquè puguem entendre les voluntats i els desitjos que tenim com a meres sensacions o sentiments que, en alguna mesura, ens menen a l’acció”. B. S. (shrink)

Els objectius i els mètodes de l’eugenèsia humana són compartits amb la millora genètica animal. En animals domèstics es fan servir de manera habitual gairebé tots els mètodes disponibles per fer selecció, i aquesta connexió permet analitzar l’eugenèsia liberal posant el focus en l’aplicabilitat que puguin tenir les seves propostes. Les pràctiques eugèniques haurien de funcionar no només en teoria, sinó també tenint en compte les condicions reals en què s’han de desenvolupar: com s’hereten els caràcters fenotípics que es (...) volen seleccionar, com és el material genètic i què implica garantir els postulats liberals. La gran majoria de caràcters d’interès són caràcters quantitatius, i la capacitat de seleccionar-los es veu restringida pel lligament, les correlacions genètiques i el context genòmic entre d’altres. Per superar les limitacions d’aquestes tres característiques cal seleccionar poblacions senceres, i això és incompatible amb l’elecció individual que s’hauria de produir en l’eugenèsia liberal. Tenint en compte tots aquest factors, només es pot arribar a la conclusió que l’eugenèsia liberal és impossible, o bé perquè no funciona (i per tant no és eugenèsia) o bé perquè no és liberal. (shrink)

« Pourquoi les choses tiennent-elles ensemble ? » (Traité d'ontologie, 2009, p. 237). Cette citation me sert de départ à une réflexion sur la nature des relations liantes souvent appelées relations de comprésence à la suite de Russell, ces bundling relations qui nouent les propriétés ensembles pour constituer les objets ordinaires (tables, chaises, individus biologiques) selon la théorie du faisceau. De même que Frédéric Nef, je suis séduit par les nombreuses vertus philosophiques de ces relations liantes. Ma contribution ne portera (...) pas sur une critique ou une défense de ces relations mais sur l'étude de leur nature, et en particulier, de leur possible nature méréologique. Je vais esquisser rapidement certains aspects de la théorie classique du faisceau que je qualifierai de réaliste pour opposer ensuite les variantes réalistes à deux autres versions méréologiques de la théorie, que je qualifierai d'éliminativistes. (shrink)

En aquest article s¿analitzen els continguts i perspectives que es varen desenvolupar en el decurs del Diàleg Interacció del Fòrum Universal de les Cultures 2004. En concret, aquells que giraren entorn la problemàtica del desenvolupament cultural i de la seva relació/dependència respecte al desenvolupament econòmic en els àmbits locals, dins el marc d¿un món globalitzat. La proposta del Diàleg tenia com a objectiu analitzar les vinculacions entre ambdós àmbits per tal de potenciar noves polítiques locals (que haurien de concretar-se en (...) l¿¿Agenda 21 de la Cultura¿) que potenciessin l¿àmbit cultural, desubstantivat i banalitzat en favor de l¿àmbit econòmic. L¿anàlisi de les diferents categories i perspectives que es varen posar a debat, nogensmenys, ens aboca a un tractament realitzat i desenvolupat des dels paràmetres de l¿àmbit econòmic i, per tant, de caire més aviat descripitiu que prescriptiu. Les possibilitats de potenciar l¿àmbit cultural tot romanent dins una lògica economicista queden així reduïdes a la mera constatació de l¿existència de múltiples pràctiques que queden subsumides en el mercat, i amb les que hom s¿hi relaciona com a mercaderies. (shrink)

Il y a chez Thomas d'Aquin une autre morale que celle que nous connaissons. Si elle n'a pas été développée, c'est que les options et les sensibilités du temps ne la réclamaient pas. Cette autre morale, dont les assises ne font aucun doute, se trouve, elle, en rapport avec le meilleur des options et des sensibilités de notre temps. La morale de Thomas d'Aquin est celle du chemin qui conduit à Dieu. Les humains sont ici-bas des voyageurs, en quête de (...) leur fin bienheureuse. Si riche soit-elle, cette morale ne promeut pas pour elles-mêmes les valeurs proprement terrestres et humaines. L'autre morale se définit comme une manifestation de ce qui nous habite : Dieu est en nous et pas seulement dans un au-delà, et notre vie éternelle est déjà commencée. En manifestant ce qui en nous est vie et valeur, nous les faisons nôtres et nous les développons; en les engageant dans des tâches terrestres et humaines, nous prenons au sérieux la création de Dieu remise entre nos mains. Et nous travaillons au vœu que celle-ci porte : la promotion des peuples et l'instauration d'une société juste et fraternelle dès ici-bas. Le livre articule, en finale, ces deux morales dans un nouvel ensemble."--From the publisher. (shrink)

«Així doncs, qualsevol activitat que emprenem, la nostra acció més quotidiana, ens demana un esforç de la voluntat. En la consagració de les nostres forces a véncer totes les dificultats que se’ns presenten a diari ens determinen a nosaltres mateixos. Solament hem de vigilar de no cedir en el nostre afany de superació. Perquè si el treball que tenim per davant al llarg d’una existència el deixàvem de colp algun dia per algun motiu sobtat, això seria com una mort en (...) vida, com una rendició. Però no podem renunciar a ser nosaltres mateixos, sinó que ens hem de guanyar pas a pas, dia a dia». (shrink)

continent. 2.1 (2012): 40–43. Lance Olsen is a professor of Writing and Literature at the University of Utah, Chair of the FC2 Board of directors, and, most importantly, author or editor of over twenty books of and about innovative literature. He is one of the true champions of prose as a viable contemporary art form. He has just published Architectures of Possibility (written with Trevor Dodge), a book that—as Olsen's works often do—exceeds the usual boundaries of its genre as it (...) explores his interests in narrative theory and pedagogy. The book is a kind of “anti-textbook;” a performative polemic against the stale, conservative and monolithic conception of the literary that so often dominates institutional discourse around creative writing. The following interview takes the occasion of AoP's publication as a chance to speak with Olsen about the book itself as well as to engage with larger, unanswerable, questions about the futures and intersections of literature and education. —Ben Segal INTERVIEW: 1) First, I want to start before the beginning, with the title. I’m really fascinated by the concept it conjures. Can you say something about innovative/experimental/(choose your adjective) literature in relation to both ideas around architecture and possibility? Innovative or experimental are tremendously fraught adjectives, needless to say. But for the purposes of my book, they modify a fiction concerned with the questions: What is fiction? What can it do, and how, and why? Now, of course, what looks “innovative” or “experimental” to one at 17 may not be what looks “innovative” or “experimental” to one at 27 or 57, and what looks “innovative” or “experimental” in 1812 may not be what looks “innovative” or “experimental” in 2012. A certain existential and historical perspectivism is always at work. But I think it’s fair to say that innovative and experimental usually refer to a narrativity that includes a self-reflective awareness of and engagement with theoretical inquiry, concerns, and obsessions, as well as a sense of being in conversation with fiction across space and time. One can't create challenging writing in a vacuum; it has to challenge in relation to something. So contemporary writers interested in the subject are not only in pursuit of the innovative, but are also always-already writing subsequent to it—writing, that is, in its long wake. Architectures of Possibility conceives of creativity as a possibility space, a locale just outside our comfort zones where we can and should take multiple chances in order to imagine in new ways, explore fresh strategies for finding and cultivating ideas, re-view what it is we’re doing and why, better understand what Samuel Beckett meant when he wrote: “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” It reminds us that there are other ways of narrating our worlds and ourselves than those we have inherited from the entertainment industry, the government, academia, previous writing, and so on. 2) AoP seems to be directed at several audiences (and purposes) simultaneously. What I mean is that it seems at times a polemic in favor of innovative literature, at other times a creative writing textbook, and still other times a guide to the network of publishers, journals, and programs that make up the current world of non-mainstream literary art in the U.S. In my mind, Architectures is a theorized anti-textbook about writing. Most textbooks on the subject (think of Janet Burroway’s Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft , taught in most creative-writing classroom across the country) orchestrate how to construct conventional stories. They instruct from a place of power how to generate familiar stories that are repeated so often that many of us begin to take them as the primary model for narrativity, if not unconsciously as a kind of truth. The result, as Brian Kiteley points out in 3 A.M. Epiphany (one of the only other alternative textbooks about innovative writing around, by the way, and a tremendous repository of exercises), is merely competent texts. Architectures problematizes that gesture by outlining what conventional narrativity looks like, urging writers to think about its ideology of form as well as content, and invites them to imagine writing, not as a set of relatively stable conventions, but, rather, as a possibility space where everything can and should be thought, tried, challenged. It thereby rhymes with Roland Barthes’s definition of literature: the question minus the answer—which is to say Architectures poses complications to the act of writing rather than solutions. 3) One of the most notable things about the book is the use of interviews. This is also one of the reasons that I think the book works so well for a variety of audiences—that anyone with even a passing interest in the state and future of literature will have an interest in your conversation with people like Ben Marcus, Samuel Delany, and Lydia Davis. I was hoping you could just talk a little about how you chose these subjects to interview, how you edited the interview material, and which answers you received struck you the most. Experimentalism , like realism , wants to appear in the plural. The idea of gathering more than forty interviews (with the help of my awesome collaborator, Trevor Dodge, himself a fine innovative author) represents an attempt to suggest that: the wide, rich, exciting opportunities inherent in the term. There are interviews with younger writers, elder statesmen in the field, publishers, editors, hypermedia artists, comic book makers, and so on: Joe Wenderoth, Carole Maso, Scott McCloud, Nick Montfort, Kathy Acker, et al. Trevor and I decided to do flash interviews: short, concentrated Q&As, each focusing on a particular troubling of writing. We only lightly edited the results to match the manuscript’s overall style, and every interview arrived as a surprise housing several unexpected insights. Three brief examples: Michael Mejia, when asked about what he dreads when setting about writing: “Dread is an interesting word here. I associate it less with loathing or aversion, I suppose, than with a kind of productive fear. Do I dread a project’s failure? Sure, who doesn’t? Who wants to waste time on something that comes to nothing, or is unreadable? But then, what do these terms mean, and who or what defines a work as a ‘failure,’ as ‘waste,’ as ‘unreadable’? Should a work actually try to interrogate and exceed these conceptual limitations? My tendency is to write into dread in order to reveal to myself, as much as to any reader that may come after, the varied complacencies that make other, mostly more conventional writings, readable. It’s at the frontier between readability (security) and unreadability (terror) that I want to live creatively.” Carole Maso, when asked what she’d like a sentence to accomplish: “I think a sentence can if allowed carry emotional and intellectual states as they flee, as they come and go, an escaping essence difficult to hold in other ways. In this way I think the sentence can work as a phrase of music does, sounding something large and elusive in us. Alternatively it can provide sometimes a stability, an essence, a moment of being. Unlike music the sentence also of course carries language with all its potential for meaning making and memory traces and association with it as well. I probably love the accretion of sentences most—those patterns, that shimmer, that resonance.” Shelley Jackson, when asked what is innovative about the innovative: “The purpose of the innovative is, I think, to wake us up. We are not quite alive, most of the time; we occupy a sort of cartoon version of our lives, its lines made smooth by repetition. Writing can open the seams in that world, reintroduce us to the real lives that we have forgotten. Maybe all good writing is innovative in some sense, in that it shows or tells or makes you feel something you never felt before—something for which you have no cartoon ready.” 4) You talk a little about N. Katherine Hayles’s concept of Media Specific Analysis and propose the supplemental notion of Medium Specific Generation—basically taking Hayles and applying her thought from the perspective of the writer. I’ve been trying to develop somewhat related theoretical frameworks, so I was really excited to come upon this section of the book. I’m wondering if you can talk a little more about this idea and, in general, about the potentials that you see as being opened up by writers engaging with and exploiting different media as literary platforms? “Lulled into somnolence by five hundred years of print,” Hayles urges in her (at least for me) transformative 2004 essay, “Print is Flat, Code is Deep,” “literary analysis should awaken to the importance of media-specific analysis, a mode of critical attention which recognizes that all texts are instantiated and that the nature of the medium in which they are instantiated matters.” She goes on to argue critics should learn to become more attuned to the materiality of the medium under investigation—which is to say a story isn’t a story isn’t a story. Rather, the “same” story remediated through film is intrinsically different from that story remediated through conventionally printed books is intrinsically different from that story remediated through hypermedia. “Materiality,” Hayles goes on, “is reconceptualized as the interplay between a text’s physical characteristics and its signifying strategies, a move that entwines instantiation and signification at the outset.” My point in Architectures is simply to emphasize Media Specific Generation: the idea that when writing you should be cognizant, not only of the thematics of the text you are working on, and, as it were, the internal components of its narrativity (character, language, plot, etc.), but also of the material embodiment those components take, and, perhaps more important, the material embodiment those components can take. The idea that the way texts matter matters isn’t something usually addressed in any significant way in creative-writing classrooms and textbooks. It may almost go without saying such experimentation with typography, layout, and white space has a long tradition—certainly one that tracks back at least as far as Guillaume Apollinaire’s early twentieth-century Calligrammes , Laurence Sterne’s textually ribald eighteenth-century Tristram Shandy , although one could arguably plot a hypothetical trajectory that reaches to ancient Greek romances like Achilles Tatius’ second-century Leucippe and Clitophon . Experiments into atomic materiality and digital immateriality bracket the definition of “book” at the same time they highlight Michael Martone’s prediction of its present future as increasingly viral, collaborative, and ephemeral. Or, as Matthew Battles points out: the future of the “book” has already arrived, and it is “ethereal and networked” rather than “an immutable brick.”While conventional writing and reading practices are conceptualized as private, individual, relatively fixed experiences, many of the new forms indicate that writing and reading—from production through dissemination—are rapidly becoming public, collective, incrementally unfixed experiences. That strikes me as an astonishing set of opportunities for a writer to investigate. 5) Another concept you elaborate in AoP is that of limit texts, basically texts that, once you read them, change what you imagine as the shape/horizon/potential of literature. You provide a fantastic reading list of limit texts at the end of AoP. I was hoping you could talk about a few of them in terms of how they specifically operate as limit texts for you—how they expand your understanding of what literature could be or do. Karl Jaspers coined the word Grenzsituationen (border/limit situations) to describe existential moments accompanied by anxiety in which the human mind is forced to confront the restrictions of its existing forms—moments that make us abandon, fleetingly, the securities of our limitedness and enter new realms of self-consciousness. Death, for example. Limit texts are a variety of disturbance that carries various elements of narrativity to their brink so the reader can never quite imagine them in the same terms again. Once you’ve taken one down from the shelf, you’ll never be able to put it back up again. They won’t leave you alone. They will continue to work on your imagination long after you’ve read them. Simply by being in the world, they ask us to embrace difficulty, freedom, radical skepticism. One of the most important for me is Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable . Instead of establishing conventional setting and building traditional character, from its first words it unsettles both: “Where now? Who now? When now?” That first trio of question marks broadcasts the thematics of the writing (“novel” may be too strong a word) that will follow: it is all about a voice (or, perhaps, voices, about the grammatical mistake of the first-person pronoun), a consciousness (maybe, again, too strong a word), often genderless, removed from place and chronology and socioeconomic reality, hovering in a state of perpetual aporia. All it knows is what it doesn’t know, and its not-knowing is blackly, sardonically comic. The Unnamable is the embodiment of an unreliable narrator—a subject position that can’t trust itself, let alone be trusted by a reader. It contradicts, takes back, digresses, undoes what it just did, forgets, lies, hallucinates gloriously. The language is abstract, disembodied, devoid of sensory data, grayish rather than painterly in texture. Without knowing this passage is from a novel, a reader might well conclude s/he were reading a patch of (anti-)Cartesian philosophy. It might be helpful to conceive of what Beckett is doing as post-genre writing, then, or perhaps what Raymond Federman referred to as critifiction—a mode that blurs conventional distinctions between theory and narrative. In completely different register, and much more recently, Anne Carson’s Nox blew me away. It takes the form of an elegy for her older brother, whom she didn’t know well and who died unexpectedly while on the run from the law in Europe. The thing itself arrives in a box that simulates a thick book, as well as the brother’s textual coffin. Open it, and inside you discover, not a codex, but an accordioned series of “pages” that folds out into an arrangement that suggests an ancient scroll (Carson is, perhaps illuminatingly, a professor of classics) made up of shards of her brother’s letters, old photographs, tickets, Carson’s observations, Catullus’ poem 101 (the one addressed to the Roman poet’s dead brother, a doubling of Carson’s situation), and extensive dictionary entries on all the words that compose that poem. The aggregate produces a collage about the impossibilities of aggregates, the impossibilities of understanding fully, of capturing absences in language. At times Nox feels less an example of what most readers consider a book than something closer to a three-dimensional work of assemblage art. It’s a beautiful mechanism for contemplating Media Specific Analysis, for urging us all to be more extreme. 6) Finally, I want to talk a little about pedagogy and institutions. I’m less interested in questions like “Are MFA programs good for writers?” than in questions about how your role as teacher informs your understanding of literature and your writing practice. I’m also very curious about your take on how commercially marginal literary art is largely patronized by large state institutions and at the same time often imagines itself as a critical and even possibly revolutionary practice. How have your own positions within universities and university-affiliated organizations shaped your thinking about them and about innovative literature? I can imagine in many ways it might make you even more critical. And (I know, another ‘and’...) how does AoP (especially given its relation to Rebel Yell , your previous text on creative writing) reflect your personal history and experience as a teacher and member of communities that are largely defined by institutions? In the classroom, I try to generate the pedagogical field I would have liked to have inhabited as a student, but didn’t. Roland Barthes has a lovely line about this: “We need to substitute for the magisterial [classroom] space of the past (the word delivered by the master from the pulpit above with the audience below, the flock, the sheep, the herd)—a less upright, less Euclidean space where no one, neither teacher nor students, would ever be in his final place.” Easier said than done, of course, but an important life project for all who think of themselves as educators. My own classroom, my own writing, and Architectures of Possibility itself attempt to create the sort of possibility space where, as I mentioned at the outset of our interview, everything should be thought, tried, challenged; where everything rhymes with Roland Barthes’s definition of literature: the question minus the answer. I’m not sure I could write what I’m writing now without the conversations I have almost daily with my students, the conversations they have with each other, the conversations we all have with the texts we study. Especially in light of the paradigm shift over the last, say, quarter century from academia as intellectual exploration to academia as McDonaldized trade school, the irony isn’t lost on me concerning the discrepancy between the safe harbor innovative authors find there and the cultural critiques those authors launch through their writing and pedagogical work. In 2001, I quit my full professorship at one institution precisely because of my disappointment over what had happened to the learning environment there. I had no intentions of reentering the field. In 2007, however, the University of Utah approached me, and I found myself in an environment much more hospitable to the sort of work I want to do—teaching experimental narrative theory and practice. It isn’t by any means a simple irony. One could easily argue innovative writing and pedagogy represents the trace of the paradigm Barthes suggests, and that trace is tremendously productive in all kinds of ways. Innovative writing has never and will never change the world in any large, macrocosmic way. But we’ve all had our lives changed, one by one, by an encounter with a difficult, rich, resonant piece of prose, poetry, music, art, you name it. We’ve all had our lives changed at the ahistorical, microcosmic moment by a class we’ve taken, a teacher we’ve studied with, to such an extent that we became, quite literally, different people. I just came across a stunning set of sentences from Derrida on the topic: “What is education? The death of the parents.” That’s what we’re all up to in the innovative, be it in written texts or the texts we call our classrooms or the texts we call our politics: trying to disrupt what both can and can’t be disrupted, trying to undo what both can and can’t be undone, continuously. (shrink)

Les débats actuels au sujet de la « voie chinoise » sont intimement liés à deux questions primordiales. Premièrement, quelle espèce de modernisation cette « voie chinoise » représente-t-elle? Et deuxièmement, quel rapport entretient-elle avec la sinisation du marxisme? Cet article vise à répondre à ces enjeux à partir d’une double perspective, celle du récit historique et celle de la philosophie de l’histoire. Cet article soutient que la modernisation à la chinoise est née des conditions historiques particulières du xx e (...) siècle et que la sinisation du marxisme, en tant que méthodologie, s’est montrée capable de cerner la nature et la signification de ces conditions. Au xxi e siècle, la « voie chinoise » représente un projet socialiste en renouvellement continu. Apportant un début de réponse à la crise mondiale du post-néolibéralisme, elle en quête des possibilités d’une nouvelle forme de civilisation. (shrink)

As nursing moves towards a holistic approach to care, its publications on sexuality have proliferated. 'Sexuality' and 'Gender' are concepts which are extremely difficult to define. While sex refers to the physical differences of the body, gender concerns the psychological and sociocultural differences between females and males. This distinction between sex and gender is fundamental, since many differences between females and males are not biological in origin. And, when a person's gender and sex fall together in accordance with social norms, (...) it may not necessarily be a similar correlation for every individual. The nature of these similarities is essentially threefold. First, Thomas, Savage and Webb accept that there should be a nursing definition of sexuality. In different ways they acknowledge and refer to it as an integral part of a person's being and self concept. Secondly, the authors underline some of the complexities and difficulties nurses have defining and dealing with it in professional relationships as well as on the level of self reflection, knowledge, attitudes and beliefs. Thirdly, all three surveys show why such difficulties prevail, and go on to make suggestions for change in nursing interventions and training. This article summarizes these contributions and discusses the ethical problems which nurses face in dealing with the sexuality of their patients. Pendant que les soins deviennent plus complet, les publications sur la sexualité se sont multipliés. Sexualité et genre sont des idées qui sont difficiles à définir. Pendant que 'sexualité' fait allusion aux différences entre les corps, 'genre' regarde les différences psychologiques et socioculturelles entre femmes et hommes. Cette distinction entre sexualité et genre est fondamentale, puisque beaucoup des différences entre femmes et hommes ne sont pas d'origine biologique. Et quand le genre et la sexualité d'une personne sont en accord avec les normes sociaux, il n'y a toujours pas une même correlation pour chaque individu. La nature de ces ressemblances est triple: premièrement, Thomas, Savage et Webb acceptent qu'une définition pour infirmiers/ères de las sexualité devrait exister. De plusières manières ils l'acceptent, et en réfèrent comme à un part total de l'être et idée de soi de la personne. Deuxièmement, les auteurs soulignent quelques-unes des difficultés et complexités que les infirmier/ères rencontrent dans leurs relations professionnelles aussi bien que dans leurs reflexions, compréhensions, attitudes et convictions personelles. Troisièmement, les trois études montrent pourquoi ces difficultès continuent encore, et suggèrent des changements en interventions et formation professionnelle. L'article-ci résume ces contributions et discute les problèmes éthiques des infirmier/ères vis-à-vis de la sexualité de leurs malades. Weil sich die ganzheitliche Pflege vermehrt, vermehren sich auch die Veröffentli chungen über Sexualität. Sexualität und Geschlecht sind Begriffe, die sehr schwierig zu beschreiben sind. Sexualität bezieht sich auf die physikalischen, und Geschlecht auf die psychologischen und kulturellen Unterschiede zwischen Frauen und Männern. Diese Unterschiede zwischen Sexualität und Geschlecht sind grundsätzlich, denn viele Verschiedenheiten zwischen Frauen und Männern haben keinen biologischen Ursprung. Wenn die Sexualität und das Geschlecht einer Person zusammen fallen mit den gesellschaftlichen Normen, bedeutet es noch nicht, dass es sich für alle solche Leute auf das selbe hinbezieht. Das bedeutende dieser Aehnlichkeiten ist dreifach: erstens, Thomas, Savage und Webb akzeptieren dass es eine Definition der Sexualität für die Krankenpflege geben sollte. Auf verschiedene Arten bestätigen sie sie, und weisen auf das Wesen der Person und deren Selbst-Vorstellung als etwas Vollständiges hin. Zweitens, diese Autoren betonen die Verwicklungen und Schwierigkeiten, die das Krankenpflegepersonal hat mit der Sexualität in beruflichen Beziehungen wie auch in persönlichem Nachdenken, Einstellungen und Ueberzeugungen. Drittens, alle drei Ueberblicke zeigen warum solche Schwierigkeiten weiterhin bestehen, und machen Vorschläge für Aenderungen in Pflegeeingriffen und Unterricht. Dieser Artikel fasst diese Beiträge zusammen und diskutiert die ethischen Probleme die das Krankenpflegepersonal hat mit der Sexualität der Patienten. (shrink)

Sovint el humans ens hem somiat déus. I Déu n'hi do si hem fet coses admirables: ciència, organització social, art,...motius n'hi ha per estar orgullosos. La vida, però, també ens mostra amb insistència la cara més fosca de nosaltres mateixos, i en aquests moments el més fàcil és passar de l'orgull a la desesperança més absoluta. El camí, però, no pot ser el de l'abandonament. Ni déus ni bèsties! Els déus no trien i, sense esforç ni dubtes, coneixen i (...) realitzen sempre el millor. Els animals, empresonats en la seva naturalesa, tampoc no trenquen gaire el cap a decidir què faran amb les seves vides. Nosaltres no tenim la sort dels uns ni la dels altres, i ens toca amb feines i treballs anar bastint la nostra realitat, aquella que nosaltres farem. Per això existeix l'ètica. "Coneix-te a tu mateix", ordenava l'oracle: només amb les nostres llums i amb les nostres ombres, amb l'instint, amb la ràbia, amb el sentiment, amb la paraula, amb la raó; només coneixent i assumint tot allò que som, tindrem la possibilitat, tal vegada, de construir un món més humà. (shrink)

L’estiu de 1947, tres joves amics, Yves Klein, Claude Pascal i Armand Fernandez, s’asseuen a la platja de Niça. Encara no són artistes, no fan res i perden el temps omplint-lo de projectes i paraules. Prenen el sol, miren el mar i el cel de la Mediterrània, fan declaracions entusiastes sobre el Gran Art del futur i comparteixen la natura, com uns nens que es divideixen un regne imaginari. Klein pren el blau del cel que abasta amb la mirada, com (...) el color absolut i ideal de la pintura. -/- Yves le Monochrome dirà diverses vegades que, aquell matí d’estiu, va fer un viatge fantàstic, com si fos un astronauta conquerint l’espai, i va signar, com si es tractés d’un llenç pintat de blau, l’altre costat d’aquest bell cel sense núvols: la més bella i la més gran de les seves obres. Aquest cel blau pintat de blau és una obra immaterial i impossible, no feta per les mans de l’artista, amb colors, pinzells i teles, sinó explicada amb les seves paraules, mites i llegendes. (shrink)

RésuméDans cet article, j'analyse des passages cruciaux de la composition finale du théologien Faḫr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, Al-Maṭālib al-῾āliya, afin de théoriser sur la nature de deux de ses études : la cosmologie et l'angélologie. En cherchant à prouver l'existence de ces êtres, Rāzī divise la réalité en deux domaines : matériel et intelligible. Les anges, qui symbolisent les intellects et les sphères, existent dans une réalité intelligible comme des êtres qui n'occupent pas d'espace. Parmi eux, certains sont associés aux corps (...) célestes, et d'autres ne s'associent à aucune chose matérielle. Dans un deuxième temps, je présente des arguments suggérant que Rāzī pensait peut-être que ces êtres célestes sont prééternels avec Dieu. Ces conceptions montrent une continuité avec la tradition philosophique islamique, et elles la structure philosophique de la réalité intégrée par al-Ġazālī dans quelques textes théologiques. De plus, on a examiné d'autres courants philosophiques développés dans le monde islamique qui ont pu agir sur la cosmologie de Rāzī, en lien avec la tradition hermétique et avec les Épîtres des frères de la Pureté. (shrink)

Notre expérience quotidienne nous le prouve : nous prenons des décisions pour nous déplacer, pour penser, pour agir et réagir. Nous prenons ces décisions selon notre nature et notre environnement, mais aussi en fonction de notre volonté propre. C'est cette caractéristique essentielle qui confère à l'humain son libre arbitre. Toutefois, rien dans la science ne vient conforter cette formidable intuition. Au contraire, les modèles contemporains des neurosciences et des sciences cognitives tendent à faire de nous des machines imparfaites, et à (...) reléguer la volonté au rang d'illusion. Dans ce court essai, Alain Van Kerckhoven démontre que le libre arbitre a toujours été instrumentalisé pour justifier des postures religieuses, philosophiques ou politiques. L'apparition de nouveaux outils de connaissance permet pour la première fois d'en faire un sujet d'étude rationnelle. Les conclusions nous entraînent aux frontières de la science et de la philosophie, au coeur de l'expérience humaine. (shrink)

https://revistes.uab.cat/enrahonar/article/view/v37-vicente.

Trobar la forma d’expressar quelcom per al qual no hi ha paraules fou un dels reptes que assumí Levi quan volgué explicar la cruel deshumanització que va sofrir com a presoner al Lager. Nogensmenys, hi va trobar la solució mitjançant el concepte d’animal. En aquest sentit, el seu testimoni és ple de metàfores faunístiques que representen el patiment de la seua reducció cap al fons i la crueltat de ser tractat com una bèstia a la qual podien assassinar i que (...) patia com un esclau castigat. Levi confirma amb les seues analogies que la deshumanització és una metamorfosi animal. Tanmateix, la tesi d’aquest assaig és que la deshumanització no és convertir-se en una bèstia, sinó transformar-se en allò que nosaltres hem fet dels animals. Una proposició que afirmem gràcies a l’etologia, que ens evidencia que el comportament real de les feres no equival a estar pres ni a ser humiliat. De fet, creiem que la raó principal per la qual Primo Levi pensava que la deshumanització era animalitzar-se sorgeix arran d’una ideologia antropocèntrica. (shrink)

L'allégorie mystique Hay ben Yaqzân -- Les trois dernières sections de l'ouvrage al-Ishârât wa-t-Tanbîhât sur la doctrine Çoufique -- Le traité mystique at-Thair -- Traité sur l'amour -- Traité sur la nature de la prière -- Missive sur l'influence produite par la fréquentation des lieux saints et les prières qu'on y fait -- Traité sur la délivrance de la crainte de la mort -- Traité sur le destin.

La citation récurrente de Sg 9, 15 : « Le corps qui se corrompt appesantit l’âme et sa demeure de terre accable l’esprit aux multiples pensées », dans le corpus augustinien, semble être l’indice d’un mépris du corps, hérité de la tradition platonicienne du corps-prison. De fait, dans ses premières œuvres, Augustin cite Sg 9, 15 pour affirmer que le corps est un obstacle à la contemplation de la vérité. Mais, dans ses œuvres ultérieures, il utilise Sg 9, 15 pour (...) établir, contre les platoni­ciens, que le corps n’est pas la prison de l’âme et que le poids du corps est à imputer, non au corps lui-même, mais à sa corruptibilité : il n’y a donc pas à « fuir tout corps », comme le veut Porphyre. Face à Julien d’Éclane, enfin, il souligne, en citant Sg 9, 15, que la condition peineuse de l’homme aujourd’hui n’est pas le propre de la nature primitive de l’homme, mais la peine du péché qui a vicié la nature. (shrink)

La notion d’un corps intermédiaire, connu sous le nom de véhicule de l’âme dans le néoplatonisme, est destinée à expliquer l’union de l’âme et du corps, mais aussi l’articulation du rationnel et de l’irrationnel, les communications avec le divin, et le maintien d’une forme de vie post mortem. Cette étude montre comment les premières attestations d’un usage structuré de la notion, sous la forme « le pneuma est le (premier) véhicule de l’âme », apparaissent dans deux contextes différents, fort éloignés (...) l’un de l’autre : une discussion de physiologie sur le pneuma optique, chez Galien ; et une explicitation philosophique de l’eschatologie d’Homère, dans le De Homero du Pseudo-Plutarque. Ce sont cependant les témoins les plus clairs d’une doctrine qui est encore en gestation dans le platonisme impérial. L’analyse montre en particulier ce que le médecin doit au Timée de Platon, ce que l’allégoriste doit à la théorie médicale des exhalaisons du sang, quand ils formulent cette nouvelle hypothèse commune sur la nature du pneuma, appuyée sur Platon et Aristote, et manifestement présentée comme une alternative à la doctrine stoïcienne de l’âme-pneuma. (shrink)

Antropontologija kao filozofski diskurs razlikuje se od klasične ontologije, fenomenološke ontologije, ontologije biti i nove ontologije. Poznato je da su različiti ontološki pogledi doveli do različitih prijelomnih točaka u povijesti filozofije. Antropontologija nudi novi tip ontologije koji se ustvari usredotočuje posebice na ljudska bića kao početnu točku. Što obuhvaća filozofski napor koji nastoji analizirati veze između ljudskog bića i znanja svijeta u svjetlu antropontologije? Što antropontologija razmatra u vezama između bića? Prije svega je nužno razjasniti ova pitanja. Tvrdimo da svako (...) biće egzistira u svijetu života ili općenito u svijetu kao singularno i konkretno biće. No ono se razumijeva pomoću pojma, tj. riječi ili termina; drugim riječima, bića egzistiraju kroz intelektualne i lingvističke činove ili u granicama jezika. Svako biće je partikularno ili singularno, međutim može doseći univerzalnu poziciju pomoću ljudskog bića i kroz obrasce mišljenja, govorenja ili pisanja, drukčije rečeno, kroz misleći svijet i lingvistički svijet. U ovome slučaju, ‘ontologija’ kao dio termina ‘antropontologija’ odnosi se na nominalističku ontologiju koja tvrdi da svako biće egzistira u okviru singularnosti. Općenito, antropontologija kao filozofski diskurs fokusira se na napetost između singularnosti i univerzalnosti.Anthropontology as a philosophical discourse distinguishes itself from the classical ontology, phenomenological ontology, the ontology of essence and the new ontology. It is well known that the different ontological views have given rise to different breaking points in the history of philosophy. Anthropontology offers a new kind of ontology which, in fact, focuses especially on human being as a starting point. What does the philosophical effort which tries to analyze the relationships between the human being and the world-knowledge contain in the light of anthropontology? What does anthropontology take into consideration in the relationships between the entities? First of all, it is necessary to explain these points. We claim that every entity exists in the world of life or generally in the world as a singular and concrete entity. But it is understood by the concept and a word or term; in the other words, they exist through the intellectual and linguistic acts or in the limits of the language. Every entity is a particular or singular one, however it can reach the universal position by the human being and through the pattern of thinking and saying or writing, in the other words, through the thinking world and the linguistic world. In this case, the ‘ontology’ part of the term of ‘anthropontology’ refers to the nominalist ontology which asserts that every entity exists in the framework of the singularity. Generally, anthropontology, as a philosophical discourse, focuses on the tension between the singularity and the universality.L’anthropontologie, en tant que discours philosophique, se distingue de l’ontologie classique, de l’ontologie phénoménologique, de l’ontologie de l’essence et de la nouvelle ontologie. Il est bien connu que différents points de vue ontologiques ont mené à différents points de rupture dans l’histoire de la philosophie. L’anthropontologie propose un nouveau type d’ontologie qui, en fait, se concentre en particulier sur l’être humain comme son point de départ. Que comprend l’effort philosophique qui cherche à analyser les rapports entre l’être humain et les connaissances du monde à la lumière de l’anthropologie ? Que l’anthropontologie prend-elle en considération dans les rapports entre entités ? Tout d’abord, il est nécessaire d’expliquer ces points. Nous affirmons que toute entité existe dans le monde de la vie, ou de manière générale dans le monde comme entité singulière et concrète. Mais elle se comprend par le concept, c’està- dire le mot ou le terme ; autrement dit, les entités existent à travers des actes intellectuels et linguistiques ou dans les limites du langage. Si toute entité est particulière et singulière, elle peut cependant atteindre une position universelle par l’être humain et à travers les schémas de pensée, d’énonciation et d’écriture ; autrement dit, par le monde pensant et le monde linguistique. Dans ce cas, « l’ontologie » en tant que partie du terme « anthropologie » se rapporte à l’ontologie nominaliste qui affirme que toute entité existe dans le cadre de la singularité. De manière générale, l’anthropontologie en tant que discours philosophique se concentre sur la tension entre la singularité et l’universalité.Die Anthropontologie als philosophischer Diskurs weicht ab von der klassischen Ontologie, der phänomenologischen Ontologie, Ontologie des Wesens sowie der neuen Ontologie. Bekanntermaßen hatten die verschiedenartigen ontologischen Gesichtspunkte quer durch die Geschichte der Philosophie unterschiedliche Wendepunkte zur Folge. Die Anthropontologie verleiht ein neues Gepräge der Ontologie, das tatsächlich speziell das Menschenwesen als Ansatzpunkt zum Kernstück macht. Was umschließt das philosophische Bemühen, das die Beziehungen zwischen Menschenwesen und Weltwissen zu analysieren sucht, im Lichte der Anthropontologie? Was berücksichtigt die Anthropontologie bezüglich der Relationen zwischen den Entitäten? Zuallererst gilt es, die obigen Sachverhalte darzulegen. Wir behaupten, jedwede Entität existiere in deren Lebenswelt bzw. gemeinhin in der Welt als singuläre und konkrete Entität. Sie wird jedoch mithilfe des Begriffs bzw. des Wortes respektive Terminus verstanden. Mit anderen Worten: Die Wesen bestehen durch intellektuelle und linguistische Akte oder im Rahmen der Sprachgrenzen. Jegliches Wesen ist partikular oder singulär, allerdings kann es vermöge des Menschenwesens und per Denk-, Sprach- bzw. Schreibmuster die universale Position erlangen; oder umgeformt – durch denkende Welt und linguistische Welt. Im vorliegenden Fall rekurriert das „Ontologie“- Glied der Zusammensetzung „Anthropontologie“ auf die nominalistische Ontologie, die asseriert, ein jedes Wesen existiere in der Sphäre der Singularität. Im Großen und Ganzen konzentriert sich die Anthropontologie als philosophischer Diskurs auf die Spannung zwischen Singularität und Universalität. (shrink)

Aperçu historiographique et méthodologique -- Notes sur le corpus deschampsien -- La double monade. Un matérialisme au-delà du système moniste de Spinoza et du système physique de d'Holbach ; Formes de totalité dans la tradition platonicienne et néoplatonicienne ; Dialectique de un et multiple -- Métaphysique et théologie négative. Réflexion sur les idées que nous avons foncièrement de Dieu ; Contre la raison du temps ; Dieu non-créateur ; Dieu créateur; Les concepts dionysiens de Théarchie et [suressentialité] ; La connaissance (...) antinomique -- Le "fond" de la religion et le "fond" de l'homme. Observations métaphysiques ; Le Dieu de la tradition ; Le Dieu des philosophes ; Dieu indistinct et distinct ; Les antithèses de Meister Eckhart ; Le "moi métaphysique" -- Quid nihil ? L'existence du Néant ; Le Livre du Néant ; Tout ou Rien ; La correspondance avec Robinet. (shrink)

Des que Ramon Llull va morir fa més de set-cents anys, sempre ha estat present, d’una manera o altra, en la cultura occidental. Fi­lòsofs, teòlegs, historiadors o, fins i tot, arquitectes i científics han partit del seu pensament per a construir noves teories i proveir-se d’eines de treball. Malgrat això, com tot gran personatge, també ha tingut detractors que s’han oposat amb vehemència a la divul­gació dels seus llibres i han arribat a demanar-ne la prohibició. Les aportacions aplegades en (...) El llegat de Ramon Llull mostren vessants diferents tant de l’obra del pensador mallorquí com de la difusió del lul·lisme, en una visió que comprèn múltiples discipli­nes i que obre noves perspectives d’anàlisi. (shrink)

https://revistes.uab.cat/enrahonar/article/view/v37-gonzalez.

Le sentiment que j'ai de moi-meme a-t-il rien de commun avec la perception que les autres ont de moi? Et ce corps, qui me precede toujours, que dit-il a autrui de ma vraie nature, de mes gouts, de mon etre secret? Ainsi, aussi inseparable que je sois de mon apparence, celle-ci signale immanquablement celui que je ne suis pas tout a fait. En d'autres termes: mon corps est-il l'expression de mon moi ou mon moi est-il le prisonnier clandestin de mon (...) corps? Entre moi et ce qui est mien, la relation est donc bien moins d'ordre ontologique que linguistique ou stylistique. C'est ce qui fait du snobisme ou du dandysme deux figures de cet effort que chacun entreprend pour tenter de paraitre ce qu'il voudrait etre, et pour tenter d'affacer ce qui volontairement sien. N. G. (shrink)

Les lecons publiees par L. Robin dans le present ouvrage furent professees par O. Hamelin en 1904-1905 a l'Ecole normale superieure, et se presentent comme une synthese de ses travaux particuliers sur Aristote. Bien que ces etudes aient en vue la totalite du corpus - ainsi que l'indique le titre sous lequel elles sont regroupees - elles n'en traitent cependant pas toutes les parties avec une egale ampleur. C'est ainsi que la logique fait l'objet des recherches les plus approfondies: on (...) trouvera en effet dans ces pages une lecture detaillee de l'Organon suivant un parcours qui progresse depuis les categories et le concept jusqu'aux raisonnements et aux syllogisme modaux, en passant par la theorie du jugement, et qui fait egalement place a l'explicitation de concepts logiques fondamentaux comme la demonstration, la definition, l'induction, ou encore la dialectique et l'idee de science. Passant de la logique a la Physique, puis de l'etude de la nature (inerte ou vivante) et de ses concepts a celle de l'ame, l'ouvrage culmine avec la metaphysique dans l'etude de l'intellect, de l'acte libre et dans la theorie de l'etre. Si la triade Logique - Nature - Esprit qui semble gouverner la progression de ces cours ne permet pas d'aborder pour elles-memes la morale et la politique, il n'en reste pas moins que ces pages donnent l'acces a la doctrine aristotelicienne tout entiere, en eclairant les parties memes qu'elles ne parcourent pas explicitement. (shrink)

https://revistes.uab.cat/enrahonar/article/view/v37-humphreys.

Excerpt from Le Probleme de la Verite dans la Philosophie de Spinoza Pleant, ont partage l'opinion favorable qu'en ont recue le signataire de ces lignes, rapporteur du memoire, et, peu apres lui, a son entree en fonctions a la Faculte, M. Gueroult, professeur d'histoire de la philo sophie, qui ont pris l'initiative d'en demander l'impression la Com mission des Publications. Nous le soumettons avec confiance au juge ment du public philosophique. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of (...) rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works. (shrink)

Le spiritualisme ravaissonien ouvre l'horizon d'une refondation complète de la métaphysique au cœur du XIXe siècle français. À partir de la lecture d'Aristote, Ravaisson élabore une critique de ce que l'on peut nommer les 'métaphysiques de la séparation', dont le point de départ se trouve dans les écrits du stagirite. Il s'agira dès lors de déployer une philosophie qui affirme l'identité de l'être et de la pensée, par-delà toute transcendance et tout dualisme. C'est ainsi que le problème de la métaphysique (...) peut être posé peut-on surmonter la disjonction de l'être et de l'étant, de la nature et de l'esprit, ou encore de l'homme et de Dieu? Faut-il au contraire considérer que la séparation définit le geste inaugural de toute métaphysique? Ravaisson, en refusant cette dernière possibilité, élabore une philosophie qui s'inscrit contre l'idéalisme transcendantal de Kant ou le positivisme de Comte, et plus largement contre toute tendance matérialiste de la pensée. Ainsi, l'unité perdue de la métaphysique doit être recherchée en questionnant l'héritage d'Aristote, afin de déterminer s'il s'agit de penser avec, ou contre celui-ci."--Page 4 of cover. (shrink)

Il nous faut reconsidérer les métaphysiques successives comme l'articulation des moments de l'être, de l'apparaître, et de l'évaluation de leur rapport. Une métaphysique sacrificielle tend à enfermer ce rapport entre l'être et l'apparaître dans une grande pince divine de prévisibilité : l'être est destiné à l'homme prométhéen, et seul lui serait capable de faire apparaître un monde. Mais si l'on prend au sérieux l'hypothèse communiste que toutes les forces de vie sont des foyers d'apparaitre à égalité, alors cette pince devient (...) une véritable police de maintien d'un ordre hiérarchique, incapable de penser les éclosions du nouveau.0Les autres vies non humaines s'insurgent contre cette police et nos schèmes sacrificiels, pour nous restituer notre puissance d'agir : pour une extension, communiste et végétale, du domaine de l'agir en commun. (shrink)

La dynamique de la nature se situe à l'intersection de la physique et de la bio-épistémologie. Elle rend raison de la place cruciale que le vide occupe dans la nature et dans la vie. Elle révèle des arguments proposés par les philosophes classiques et non classiques relatifs à la philosophie naturelle. S'ouvrant sur une philosophie de la vie, dont la complexité naturelle contraste avec la simplicité des théories biophysiques classiques, cet ouvrage propose des éléments constitutifs de la philosophie interstitielle mise (...) en évidence ici par rapport à l'énoncé canonique aristotélicien selon lequel le vide n'existe pas. Mais, qu'il s'agisse du rejet du vide ou de son omniprésence au sein de l'espace, la dynamique de la nature travaille à relier les connaissances scientifiques au moyen d'un principe d'interlocution dialogique qui associe complexité et phénomènes bio-physiques du vide ; non sans s'intéresser à la question difficile de vivre de mort et mourir de vie. (shrink)

Edició d'una important sèrie de treballs sobre el pensament i la literatura de Ramon Llull que es compten entre les peces fonamentals per a la moderna interpretació de Llull. La primera part recull íntegrament «El microcosmos lul lià», una obra ben coneguda.

Ḳitsur Ḥovat ha-levavot me-Rabenu Asher mi-Lunil -- Ḳitsur Ḥovat ha-levavot mi-sefer Tsedah la-derekh -- Ḳitsur Ḥovat ha-levavot ʻAśarah hilulim -- Ḳitsur Ḥovat ha-levavot Margaliyot ṭovot.

https://revistes.uab.cat/enrahonar/article/view/v30-valdecantos.

Le doute cartésien – théorique, généralisé, hyperbolique et volontaire – reprend et renforce tout d’abord les raisons sceptiques traditionnelles de douter, afin de mettre pour la première fois en doute tout le sensible, mais aussi de montrer que ces raisons buttent sur les naturae simplicissimae et la certitude de la mathesis universalis. Descartes forge alors un nouvel argument sceptique : le « Dieu qui peut tout », qui permet de penser que, lorsque je me rends à l’évidence des natures simples, (...) je peux me tromper du point de vue d’une autre rationalité et d’une évidence supérieure à la mienne. Mais le doute n’est pas seulement chez Descartes un moment et un moyen provisoires qu’il s’agirait de vaincre, et qui serait effectivement vaincu par la certitude du cogito. Puisqu’il ne dévoile aucune chose, n’énonce aucune proposition et n’engage pas la moindre prédication, le doute laisse en effet la parole ne dire qu’elle-même et se manifester ce qui y parle, c’est-à-dire celui qui parle, ego. On peut donc soutenir que c’est directement du doute, véritable premier principe cartésien, que provient l’existence. (shrink)

Dans son oeuvre tardive, Merleau-Ponty a souligné les convergences entre une pensée philosophique et une pensée s’exprimant par l’écriture littéraire, considérant que toutes deux répondent à une tâche commune liée à la description du monde. Ses premiers écrits théoriques – Simone de Beauvoir comme Jean-Paul Sartre l’ont souligné – sont quant à eux marqués par une distance plus nette vis-à-vis de la pratique littéraire. Pourtant, bien avant de publier ses premières monographies, Merleau-Ponty est l’auteur d’un livre écrit pour le compte (...) d’un autre : Nord. Récit de l’arctique, paru en 1928 chez Grasset. Le roman qui traite de la vie d’un explorateur dans le grand nord canadien, entre commerce de fourrures entre rencontre avec les Inuits, n’est qu’un travail de commande, que Merleau-Ponty ne revendiquera jamais. On trouve cependant dans cet écrit de jeunesse quelques motifs intéressants qui préfigurent sa pensée à venir. In his late writings, Merleau-Ponty stressed the convergences between philosophy and literature, highlighting their “common task” of describing the world. His early philosophical texts though – both Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre pointed this out – insist on demarcating themselves from literature. However, well before publishing his first monographs, Merleau-Ponty had already written a book on someone else’s behalf: Nord. Récit de l’arctique, published in 1928 by French publisher Grasset. The novel, which deals with the life of an explorer in Canada’s far north, between fur trade and encounters with the Inuit, is the result of ghostwriting, carried out for a friend. Merleau-Ponty later never stood to that book. There are nonetheless some interesting motifs in this early piece of writing that prefigure his future thinking.Nei suoi ultimi scritti, Merleau-Ponty ha sottolineato le convergenze tra filosofia e letteratura, evidenziando il loro “comune compito” nel descrivere il mondo. I suoi primi testi filosofici – lo hanno sottolineato sia Simone de Beauvoir che Jean-Paul Sartre – insistono però a distinguersi dalla letteratura. Tuttavia, ben prima di pubblicare le sue monografie, Merleau-Ponty aveva già scritto un libro per conto terzi: Nord. Récit de l’arctique, pubblicato nel 1928 per le stampe di Grasset. Per questo romanzo, che tratta della vita di un esploratore nell’estremo nord canadese, tra commercio di pellicce e incontri con gli Inuit, Merleau-Ponty fa da ‘ghostwriter’ ad un amico. Mentre ulteriormente, egli non si avvalse mai della paternità del romanzo, questo primo scritto contiene già alcuni spunti che prefigurano il suo pensiero futuro. (shrink)