Luis Sepúlveda (1949–2020)

«Tá diz-se em uruguaio quando se procura afirmar com ênfase, e Tá respondeu Mario Benedetti quando a decência perguntou se havia que arriscar pelos pobres, pelos fracos, pelos condenados da terra, pelos que não tinham direito à alegria, pelos que sonhavam com uma existência justa, por uma palavra "amanhã" plena de sentido.»

Esta frase, que dá início a uma das histórias que Luis Sepúlveda recolhe neste livro, resume perfeitamente tanto o espírito que guia a vida do autor show more chileno, como as suas palavras. Palavras seguras, potentes mas sussurrantes, que sempre nos interrogam sobre o estado do mundo e das suas gentes. Foi essa interrogação constante que consagrou Luis Sepúlveda como um dos mais originais escritores de língua castelhana.

Nestas 25 histórias somos transladados para diversos cenários, distintas situações, países daqui e dali, mas as palavras do autor remetem-nos sempre para um mesmo território literário: o território dos derrotados que se negam a aceitar a derrota. Um território bem conhecido dos leitores de Luis Sepúlveda que, neste livro, se reencontrarão com algumas das melhores passagens da sua extensa obra literária. show less

I found this to be a weird combination of contemporary issues (seagull encounters an oil slick, definite commentary on bad behavior from humanity, contemporary port city) and a nostalgic sort of animal story (think My Father's Dragon, A Cricket in Times' Square) -- not so much a dated feeling to the story as writing for a very specific age, where the animal tale is king. It's a good story, about 125 pages with periodic illustrations, and an entertaining cast of eccentric cats who are doing show more their level best to raise a seagull chick. Some funny moments, some harrowing ones, and a lovely moment where Zorba reassures his chick that it's ok to be different, differences can only enhance love -- so I appreciated the message, even in gentle story format. This would probably be a good one for advanced readers who need less advanced subject matter. show less

The first, and (as far as I am aware) only children's book from Luis Sepúlveda, expatriate Chilean author and political dissident, The Story of a Seagull and the Cat Who Taught Her to Fly is a brief allegorical animal-fantasy, touching upon themes such as humanity's impact on (and abuse of) the environment, the importance of keeping one's word, whatever the challenges, and the nature of love in a diverse world. It begins with two separate narratives - that of Kengah, a seagull who becomes show more separated from her flock when she is caught in an oil slick; and that of Zorba, a "big, fat, black cat" who watches as his human boy departs for vacation. When a dying Kengah collapses onto Zorba's balcony, and extracts three promises - that he will watch over her egg, that he will not eat it, and that, when it hatches, he will teach the new baby to fly - Zorba finds himself embarking on a journey he never expected to take: cross-species parenting...

I enjoyed this tale of an unlikely adoption, which, given the current crisis in the Gulf of Mexico, couldn't be any more topical if it tried. Zorba's cat friends, from the gruff Colonel to the long-suffering Secretario (not to mention the encyclopedia-loving Einstein), were charming, and the idea that cats are more than able to communicate with humans, if they so chose, was very appealing. I do find Sepúlveda's narrative a little didactic at times, but given the gravity of the situation, the environmental trauma caused by oil spills large and small, I'm inclined to cut him a little slack - especially since I never felt that the didacticism overwhelmed the story. All in all, a lovely little tale, one that will appeal on different levels, depending on how the reader approaches it. Younger children looking for a "simple" animal adventure will find a tale that is by turns poignant and heart-warming, while older readers with a more philosophical bent will enjoy the clever little details (like the fact that the only human the cats can trust is a poet...). show less

Ad un grande scrittore bastano poche righe per ambientare il suo romanzo: una pagina e si viene risucchiati dalla foresta pluviale equadoriana dove esso si svolge. Un luogo che non mi attira per nulla, tra piogge torrenziali, animali feroci, insetti credo che cederei il biglietto se per caso mi regalassero il viaggio. Non per questo la storia è meno affascinante ed il protagonista, che ha acquisito saggezza convivendo con gli indios, senza però diventare realmente uno di loro, meno show more simpatico.
Tra le varie considerazioni una in particolare mi ha fatto sorridere, quella riferita ad Edmondo de Amicis: "come si fa ad essere così crudeli da infliggere tante sofferenze al Tamburino Sardo?" show less