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(em português, com links → sol2070.in/2024/11/livro-the-wolves-of-eternity-karl-knausgard/)

"The Wolves of Eternity" (2024, 800 pgs.), by Karl Ove Knausgård, is the second book in "The Morning Star" series, about routines transformed by the appearance of a big new star in the sky.

Volume one covers the first and second days from the point of view of nine people in present-day Norway. "Wolves", on the other hand, is a kind of interlude focusing more on two key people. The young Norwegian Syvert returns from military service at the time of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster and discovers his deceased father's secret past, which connects him to the Soviet Union. In contemporary Russia, Alevtina is confronted with personal crises and her obsession with the essence of biological life.

The narrative at the end integrates deeply with the series and its huge themes of death, life, human crisis and nature. But this book has few of the fantastic elements of the first, which in no way detracts from it, concentrating on the interconnected story of these two characters. The context of the environmental emergency and the investigation into the biosphere are also more present.

Karl's style won me over. He writes without pretension in the first person, things like: “I did this, then that. The day was like this; the other man, like that.” In addition to the cosmic enigma of the setting, people are left pondering the big questions, without sounding too philosophical, in a perfect dosage for stories that are both profound and captivating.

The central theme of "Wolves" is a question that stems from the anxiety about death. The book's title is the same as a character's essay, linked to the origins of Russian cosmism and the fabulous poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who investigates the hypothesis of the “beginning of eternity”.

I'm already reading the third, "The Third Realm", and I'm equally hooked. For the time being, the series has gone so far, although sequels are expected. However, it's not the kind of series whose plot continues in subsequent books. Each one can be read on its own, although there are many connections between them.

The cover blurb makes it sound like a cautionary tale about our highly-tech-dependent world (even in the 1990s!), but it's not the technology that's the problem. It's the homogenization of culture, and the insistence that there be one perspective, and only one perspective, that really matters.

Think of how we travel and find the same chain stores, chain restaurants, the ISO standard Irish Pub with its bric-a-brac decor, and how our TV and movies are full of endless reboots, spinoffs and sequels.

We see it first in Sutty's memories of Earth, controlled largely by a theocracy until contact with alien civilizations kicks their support out from under them. And then in the world she's trying to understand, one that's undergone a complete transformation in the time it took her to travel there at relativistic speed. She knows there were flourishing cultures here before she left Earth. She studied the few fragments that made it offworld during first contact. But she finds a world that has discarded its past and modeled itself on the one she left.

It's largely a story of discovery: Sutty, frustrated and depressed, trying to figure out what the heck "The Telling" actually is and what it means, and the government agent shadowing her also discovering what it is he's trying to suppress and why. A lot of it takes place in small villages, but there's also a long trip through mountains that feels like counterpoint to the glacier expedition in The Left Hand of Darkness.

Well worth the read!

(Slightly condensed from my website.)

(em português, com links: sol2070.in/2024/11/livro-breaking-together-jem-bendell/ )

In “Breaking Together” (2023), English researcher Jem Bendell summarizes the current catastrophic socio-political-environmental situation and suggests proposals for mitigation and regeneration for what remains.

Yes, “for what remains”, because in his analysis the unfolding of a general gradual collapse is not only inevitable, but has been underway for years.

The first half of the book is a presentation of detailed evidence of both the collapse and the practical improbability of its reversal, in the economic, energy, biosphere, climate and food areas.

An excerpt:

The arguments in the first half of this book could be regarded as simply an observation of data, rather than a theory or opinion. If some scientists might wish to claim that I'm analytically wrong in my identification of ongoing societal collapse, then I invite them to show us all the data on a multi-year consistency of greenhouse gas emissions coming down, combined with greenhouse gas concentrations in our atmosphere coming down,863 biodiversity losses coming down and ocean acidification coming down. I invite them to show us data indicating a multi-year consistency of an increase in the Human Development Indicators in a majority of countries. Without that, then they might retort that modern societies cannot be collapsing because “the cash machines still work, the TV turns on and the supermarkets are still open.” But as scholars, we must not just focus on the façades of systems that scientific analysis has identified are already breaking.

The other half contains his proposals for dealing with the situation. That's where the book's title comes in. Instead of merely “breaking apart”, we can “break together”, in the sense of community, of uniting in the face of disaster. For example, in organizing and combining social movements, and in restoring the connection with the land and nature.

He sets out his vision, which he calls “ecolibertarianism”, unrelated to capitalism and Marxism, as well as decentralizing proposals for politics and economics.

I found his vision of degrowth interesting. The idea is generally criticized for implying a forced reduction of the economies of the richest countries, since this activity is inseparable from environmental destruction. However, it would never be self-implemented, as no rich country would accept a course of “impoverishment” — in quotes because this only refers to GDP, which does not measure the true wealth or poverty of a nation. But the degrowth of these countries could be forced by a union of the poorest countries, through trade barriers and other such measures.

Jem Bendell is far from the only researcher who advocates recognizing the current collapse and its practical irreversibility. But it is a thought considered radical and “catastrophist” not only by the dominant ideology, but also among the political left, since the common point of these two currents is growthism. Accepting the bankruptcy of this model would be unacceptable or even inconceivable, even with so much data and evidence.

I share the author's vision to a large extent, but I don't see a general collapse of civilization as we know it in 20 or 30 years as certain. I only think it's possible, and perhaps it will take longer due to merely delaying measures, if there isn't a radical transformation of the entire structure.

The standard thinking is to classify this as defeatist, pointless, “you have to think of solutions” etc. But there is a very obvious utility in simply admitting what is right in front of our eyes. After that, the alarming realization is just a matter of extrapolating into the future, considering the socio-political-economic probabilities of radical changes of course.

Jem jokes that he has reframed the “doomster” label he was given. Sometimes he wears a T-shirt with the phrase “doomsters have more fun.” I think so too. At least there's no denialism, reality is seen head-on, and then we can devote ourselves to what's really important, instead of dreaming up some miraculous techno-optimism.

Many climatologists already agree in part with the most negative predictions: the climate system is not going to go back to the way it was for decades, perhaps centuries, even if all emissions stopped now; there is bound to be a worsening of the climate emergency. What needs to be done is to prevent an even more extreme worsening, mitigate, reduce the damage of what is to come, prepare and adapt.

Bendell is known for an influential academic article: “Deep Adaptation”, from 2018. It even became a movement and influenced others, such as Extinction Rebellion.

The article predicted a “societal collapse” in a short time, 10 or 15 years, due to factors such as the climate emergency. In the current book, he corrects some positions. He admits that he wasn't clear about what “societal” meant and corrects this. He also says that he was wrong about when the collapse would start. According to the revision of the latest data, made by the team that helped him research the book, it would have already started in 2016 in some parts of the world. The text, considered extremely catastrophist at the time by his peers and the media, is now even timid in relation to the way the climate emergency is unfolding.

Disappointment However, there is a downside to “Breaking Together” that is hard to ignore. Towards the end, the author uses the Covid pandemic as an example of how even sectors that are considered progressive or left-wing end up supporting measures that benefit corporations like big pharma. He criticizes the measures that were taken, such as mass vaccinations, the use of masks and lockdowns.

I almost couldn't believe what I was reading. His main criticism is of the immense influence that pharmaceutical giants and other corporations have over governments, but he ends up exaggerating when he mentions the supposed ineffectiveness of vaccines or lockdowns.

It was a huge disappointment, because if he's wrong about vaccines, why wouldn't he be wrong about everything else?

However, I don't think the rest of the book is nullified by this horrendous slip-up. It was still one of the most important non-fiction books I've picked up in recent years.

The book is available to download from the author's website ( jembendell.com/2023/04/08/breaking-together-a-freedom-loving-response-to-collapse/ ).

( sol2070.in/2024/11/livro-estrela-da-manha-karl-ove-knausgaard/ )

"Estrela da Manhã" (2021, 656 págs.), do norueguês Karl Ove Knausgaard, é o primeiro volume da trilogia conhecida pelo mesmo nome. Capturou-me totalmente, não queria ler ou ver mais nada — geralmente, leio alguma não ficção paralelamente.

A combinação é uma das que mais gosto: uma pessoa consagrada na literatura se aventurando pela ficção especulativa, científica ou fantástica, como por exemplo Kazuo Ishiguro e Doris Lessing, que ganharam o Nobel de literatura e criaram ótima ficção científica.

Karl se consagrou com os seis volumes da série de autoficção "Minha Luta", um fenômeno literário de crítica e público inédito em seu país, traduzido mundo afora, incluindo Brasil.

"Estrela da Manhã" narra em primeira pessoa a rotina de várias pessoas na Noruega, quando uma nova estrela toma conta do céu, prenunciando mudança radical. As personagens são tão cativantes que ficava me perguntando como o autor consegue dar vida assim a pessoas tão diversas entre si, desde uma enfermeira num hospital para demência, passando por um repórter criminal investigando o sumiço de uma banda de death metal, até uma sacerdotisa da Igreja da Noruega.

Esse é o foco da história, a vida interior das pessoas. Apesar da novidade cósmica no cenário, quem esperar apenas elementos fantásticos, pode se decepcionar — como eu no começo. Mesmo assim, eles abundam, e as pessoas são tão interessantes que nada fica faltando.

O tema da série é a morte, e as questões existenciais em torno dela. O feito de Knausgaard é retratar algo tão denso e profundo de forma instigante. Conseguiu escrever praticamente um vira-páginas com as rotinas e inquietações de pessoas comuns (em oposição a personagens heroicas ou supertalentosas), dispensando técnicas de suspense como cliffhangers etc.

Questionamentos espirituais e até teológicos também figuram. Por exemplo, não é acaso que “Estrela da Manhã” é um epíteto de Lúcifer (literalmente, “portador da luz”), o primeiro anjo da mitologia bíblica.

Uma das reflexões que me deixou pensando: geralmente, a morte é considerada como negativa, talvez até algo de que deveríamos nos livrar. Como seria então um mundo sem morte? Plantas, por exemplo, apenas cresceriam, chegando num ponto em que faltaria espaço no mar, terra e ar. Seria um mundo não apenas hostil a qualquer nova vida, ela seria impossível. Assim, biologicamente, a morte é o truque que permite o aparecimento da novidade. Sem ela, a vida como conhecemos seria extinta. Na verdade, esse é o tema central da série.

Já estou lendo o segundo volume: "The Wolves of Eternity" (2023), ainda sem tradução no Brasil.

( sol2070.in/2024/11/todos-os-belos-cavalos-cormac-mccarthy/ )

"Todos os Belos Cavalos" (1992), de Cormac McCarthy, é o primeiro volume da Trilogia da Fronteira, um épico “faroeste existencial”, como costuma ser chamado.

Só mesmo a prosa mitológica de Cormac para me fazer ler um faroeste. “Faroeste” apenas na caracterização e cenário, a fronteira EUA-México nos anos 40. Não há justiceiro enfrentando bandido depois de uns goles no saloon. Tem sim algum tiroteio, mas o foco da história é a jornada por zonas limítrofes, também no sentido metafórico. Fazendo jus ao título, não faltam cavalos em toda a sua profunda dimensão.

Inconformados com a perspectiva de suas vidas, dois rapazes de 16 anos abandonam os EUA em direção ao México. Encontram um menino mais insano e novo que eles, tendo então que lidar com as consequências.

Li o livro depois do volume 2, "A Travessia", achando que estava relendo-o. Na juventude, um exemplar em inglês de "Todos os Belos Cavalos" acumulou poeira na estante a ponto de achar que já tinha lido, talvez o confundindo com o assombroso "Meridiano Sangrento". Percebi logo que estava lendo pela primeira vez.

Comparando com o 2, é mais convencional — no sentido de cumprir expectativas —, aventuresco e até romântico, mas não como defeito. É um livraço! A questão é que "A Travessia" é cativantemente sombrio, tocando temas mais no núcleo da existência humana; fica até difícil chamá-lo de “faroeste”, apesar do cenário idêntico e das explosões de violência.

O autor consegue ser um estilista incomparável na prosa, sem soar afetado ou pedante. Quem mais escreveria uma frase assim?

"Vinha do leste a varar a escuridão como um satélite obsceno do sol que nasceria berrando e uivando ao longe e o comprido facho do farol correndo no meio do emaranhado de galhos de algarobos e fazendo emergir da noite a interminável cerca ao longo da linha principal e sugando-a de volta arame e mourão milha a milha para dentro da escuridão atrás onde a fumaça da caldeira se desfazia lentamente no tênue novo horizonte e o som vinha em seguida e ele ainda estava parado segurando o chapéu durante a passagem do tremor de terra olhando até o trem desaparecer."

A tradução de Marcos Santarrita é excelente.

Um porém inegável é que, como brinca uma amiga, é um “livro de menino”. Não que dissemine machismo ou chauvinismo, pelo contrário. Mas predomina aquele estilo de desbravamento heroico, com tudo o que vem junto, geralmente associado à masculinidade. Não tem problema, já que sou “menino” também.