As I’ve mentioned with other works that have come my way
from “& Other Stories”, their pursuit of “collaborative, imaginative and ‘shamelessly
literary’” works fits nicely with my own philosophies of independence and
pushing the boundaries. And in “All Dogs Are Blue” I’ve come across something
which is shamelessly BOLD, a work that you wouldn’t ordinarily come across in
your day to day reading.
Rodrigo De Souze Leao died aged 43 in a psychiatric hospital
in Rio de Janeiro in 2008. A schizophrenic, his fragile mental state had him
rarely leaving his home and it is through his poetry and, more importantly,
this novel that he was held in high regard by a large number of Brazilian
writers and poets.
Here we have a novel written in broken thoughts, fragments
of sentences, visions and musings. But one that shows such complexity and a
vivid understanding of narrative style that you cannot help but be dragged
along with the author’s torment.
Set in a psychiatric ward our narrator is attached to the
memories of his childhood toy blue dog, memories of a more stable time before
he swallows a cockroach at age 15. His “friends” in the ward are Baudelaire (a
Nineteenth Century French poet who’s most famous works draw heavily on the
themes of sex and death) and Rimbaud (another Nineteenth Century French poet
who was part of the “decadent movement”). A misunderstood genius is our man….
What is loneliness? It’s living
without obsessions. But sometimes in life we have to choose between pounding
the tip of a knife or letting ourselves get burned in the fire.
Which is worse?
A man dressed in jelly bew a kiss
inside a Coca-Cola bottle.
You shouldn’t write about asylum
life.
No everyone has an asylum nearby.
Either your handbag is an asylum, or your home, or even your wallet. Lots of
things can be an asylum. I’m not talking about untidiness. I’m talking about
real asylums.
Rimbaud showed up dressed like an
Apache Indian. He said I was turning into General Custer.
There were lots of flowers around
the clinic. It was a nice place. That’s why I say asylums are such pretty
places that they remind you of cemeteries. Those cemeteries with huge gardens.
Rimbaud liked playing with fire.
He lit candles. Baudelaire liked the dark. But he didn’t like fighting and he
often disappeared with Rimbaud showed up. Rimbaud was my friend all the time. A
real wild child.
Forget the ramblings of the unknown protagonist in Doris
Lessing’s “Briefing for a Decent Into Hell” or even Norman Zweck from Burnice
Ruben’s fine “The Elected Member” or the ever popular Randle Patrick McMurphy
from “One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest”. This is a harrowing tale of life in an
asylum written by the person suffering the consequences of their internment.
The ongoing drugs, the hallucinations, the reality of shock
treatment, the family break down and visits, the disgusting food, the fact that
the drugs give him weight problems, drunks treated as mentally ill, criminals
in the wards, paranoia and more. A rich tapestry of ideas all melded into one
short work, more a like a Van Gogh palette than a tapestry – one chapter is
called “It all went Van Gogh”. If you like reading works that challenge the
norm then you’ll surely like this.
Another amazing work brought to English language readers, from
& Other Stories, wonderfully translated from the Portuguese by Zoe Perry
and Stefan Tobler (founder of the publisher). Definitely not a novel for all
tastes but to understand the inner machinations of a suffering mind and the
sorrow that brilliance may never be realised you should find a copy.
For more about subscribing to their bold releases go to http://www.andotherstories.org/ for details of their
subscription packages.
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