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<rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" version="2.0"><channel><atom:link rel="hub" href="http://tumblr.superfeedr.com/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"/><description>I am a journalist from Porto Alegre (Brazil), living in Birmingham (UK). Here you can check my readings - in Portuguese, English and (not so often) Spanish. And what are you reading?</description><title>What is Melissa reading?</title><generator>Tumblr (3.0; @melissabecker)</generator><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/</link><item><title>Open, An Autobiography, by Andre Agassi&amp;#160;&amp;#187; Perfect title for a tennis player&amp;#8217;s...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="260" src="http://theopenend.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/agassi.jpg" width="170"/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Open, An Autobiography, by Andre Agassi&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; Perfect title for a tennis player&amp;#8217;s biography! I&amp;#8217;m in doubt if Agassi is a nice guy in fact, or if his ghost-writer made him seems very nice. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Must admit I don&amp;#8217;t know anything about tennis. Maybe that&amp;#8217;s why parts about the psychological battles that Agassi had with himself were more appealing to me than a few games he described more detailed. Obviously I was expecting that (and certainly it would made any tennis fan more thrilled than I was), but I was more interested in the character. And I found him, lonely (I&amp;#8217;ve never thought about the loneliness of a player), exposing all the weaknesses and fears anyone feel in real life - and sometimes we simply can&amp;#8217;t admit. &lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/17891955196</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/17891955196</guid><pubDate>Sun, 19 Feb 2012 14:00:40 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>International Relations - A Very Short Introduction, by Paul Wilkinson&amp;#160;&amp;#187; We always learn...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="260" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1177257161l/689740.jpg" width="170"/&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;International Relations - A Very Short Introduction&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;, by Paul Wilkinson&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; We always learn something - but the edition I have read (from the library) is from 2007, and I can&amp;#8217;t avoid thinking this book would have some different parts, if it was a more recent edition. At that time, Bush, Condi, Tony Blair and all this team was there (obviously, the international relations foundations in the world don&amp;#8217;t change completely according to who is in charge of the United States, but journalists prefer up-to-date things). So many things happened since them - Obama, Osama, crises&amp;#8230; &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Anyway, nice to have the subjects we see everyday in the news classified in a short introduction to such a big field - states, non-states, intergovernmental organizations and problems and challenges - and how history is important to understand all these relations in a better way. The author is a highly experienced expert, and I have to said I feel like I must read it again, to make sure I learnt the &amp;#8220;basis&amp;#8221;. Maybe I will.&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/17321268543</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/17321268543</guid><pubDate>Thu, 09 Feb 2012 12:19:00 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>Nothing to Envy, by Barbara Demick&amp;#160;&amp;#187; I had this book on my hands in 2010, when a...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="270" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y0thMIMmL0A/TspBHDewrPI/AAAAAAAAAgM/12O3dst3jQI/s1600/nothing_to_envy.jpg" width="170"/&gt;Nothing to Envy, by Barbara Demick&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; I had this book on my hands in 2010, when a South-Korean friend told me &lt;em&gt;Nothing to Envy&lt;/em&gt; &amp;#8220;opened her eyes&amp;#8221; about the neighbours&amp;#8217; situation - if she liked it, the book must be really good, I thought. However, days after, very embarassed, she asked the book back - apparently, it belonged to her landlord, and they asked the book back. Ok. So it was on my wishlist since then.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The morning I woke up and found out about Kim Jong-Il&amp;#8217;s dead, I clicked on the &amp;#8220;reserve&amp;#8221; button on the library&amp;#8217;s website. I was the 3rd on the queue! &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;* * *&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I got the book quite quickly, before Christmas. And I was pleased to know that it stars with an intriguing point I read during the Kim Jong-Il&amp;#8217;s dead coverage: how dark is North Korea!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;img height="658" src="http://www.newscientist.com/blogs/shortsharpscience/2011/12/19/C0044096-Korea_at_night%2C_satellite_image-SPL.jpg" width="600"/&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Read more &lt;a href="http://www.newscientist.com/blogs/shortsharpscience/2011/12/satellite-image-shows-kim-jong.html" target="_blank"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The eletricity supply collapsed in the country in the early 1990s, with the Soviet Union. For the author, North Korea is not an undeveloped country, but a a country that has fallen out of the developed world. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The book was launched in 2010. It says the government has big plans for 2012, everything would change in 2012. Certainly they would not expect for the loss of the &amp;#8220;Dear Leader&amp;#8221; - so what about it now, Kim Jong-un? A remarkable part of the book is about the starvation the North Korean people faced after the death of Kim Jong-Il&amp;#8217;s father. &lt;em&gt;Nothing to Envy&lt;/em&gt; won the &lt;a href="http://www.thesamueljohnsonprize.co.uk/index.asp" target="_blank"&gt;BBC Samuel Johnson Prize 2010&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/15516805924</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/15516805924</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Jan 2012 13:53:03 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>A Moveable Feast - The Restored Edition, by Ernest Hemingway&amp;#160;&amp;#187;
&amp;#8220;I&amp;#8217;ve seen you,...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="275" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51qDFsVeG7L.jpg" width="170"/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Moveable Feast - The Restored Edition, by Ernest Hemingway&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;#8220;I&amp;#8217;ve seen you, beauty, and you belong to me now, whoever you are waiting for and if I never see you again, I thought. You belong to me and all Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it. I was writing it now and it was not writing itself and I did not look up nor know anything about the time nor think where I was nor order any more rum St. James. I was tired of rum St. James without thinking about it. Then the story was finished and I was very tired. I read the last paragraph and then I looked up and looked for the girl and she had gone. I hope she&amp;#8217;s gone with a good man, I thought. But I felt sad.&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;(&lt;em&gt;A Good Cafe on the Place St.-Michel, page 18&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/14839730707</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/14839730707</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Dec 2011 22:30:10 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>The Bang Bang Club - Snapshots from a Hidden War, by Greg Marinovich and Joao Silva&amp;#160;&amp;#187;...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="275" src="http://www.hanj-photo.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/book.jpg" width="170"/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Bang Bang Club - Snapshots from a Hidden War, by Greg Marinovich and Joao Silva&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &lt;em&gt;&amp;#8220;There was a low brick building, the ticket office, between me and where the Zulu lay in the street. Suddenly I heard a hollow whoof and women began to ululate in a celebration of victory. I ran towards the edge of the elevation. The man I had thought dead was running across the field below us, his body enveloped in flames. Red, blue and yellow tongues licked the clothing and skin off his body . It was a stumbling, urgent run as he tried to escape the pain. I lifted the long lens camera. The human torch slowed and dropped to a squat. As I focused, I noted that the early sun was right behind the burning man. The camera&amp;#8217;s light meter did not work and so I twisted the aperture wide open: f5.6 should be right. I depressed the shutter, then pulled the camera away from my face for a second to advance the cranck and frame my next exposure. A bare-chested, barefoot man ran into view and swung a machete into the man&amp;#8217;s blazing skull as a young boy fled from this vision of hell, from an enemy who would not die&amp;#8221;&lt;/em&gt;. (Chapter 3, page 35)&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/14363328631</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/14363328631</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Dec 2011 14:44:00 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>Lunch in Paris, by Elizabeth Bard&amp;#160;&amp;#187; 
Could be sweet:
&amp;#8220;When le dessert finally...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="268" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51bO1mfuW6L.jpg" width="170"/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lunch in Paris, by Elizabeth Bard&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Could be sweet:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;#8220;When &lt;em&gt;le dessert&lt;/em&gt; finally arrives, it looks like an innocent upsidedown chocolate cupcake, accompanied by a small cloud of freshly whipped cream. But when my spoon breaks the surface, the chocolate center flows like dark lava onto the whiteness of the plate. The last ounce of stress drains from my body. I feel my spine soften in the chair. The menu says &lt;em&gt;Moelleux au Chocolat &amp;#8216;Kitu&amp;#8217;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;#8216;&lt;em&gt;Kitu&lt;/em&gt; is a pun,&amp;#8217; says Gwendal, with his best Humphrey Bogard squint. &amp;#8216;It means which kills.&amp;#8217;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I have discovered the French version of &amp;#8216;Death by Chocolate&amp;#8217;.&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;* * *&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Could be bitter:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;#8220;But the questions just kept coming, and I had only one exasperating answer. Because I&amp;#8217;m &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; in New York, and things just don&amp;#8217;t work like that here. It&amp;#8217;s hard enough trying to build a new life in another culture without having to explain the process to everyone back home. The journalism was coming in at a very slow trickle - I seemed to spend eighty percent of my time pitching ideas to editors, twenty percent actually writing. I found that travel articles tended to be written by staffers on vacation rather than freelancers on the ground. I was getting a piece of art criticism here and there, but mostly in London or New York, so I spent my fees going back and forth to do interviews and see exhibitions. My mother decided that to pick up the slack, I should start a museum tour company. Start a company? How could I make her understand that just going to the post office in Paris was sometimes an all-day project? There were days when each step I took was like wading through a room full of cold mashed potatoes. The idea of diverting what little energy I had left into a business that was not my ultimate goal left me wanting to curl up into a little ball and cry.&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/13966400036</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/13966400036</guid><pubDate>Fri, 09 Dec 2011 09:17:00 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>Life in the UK Test, Study Guide (2011 Edition)&amp;#160;&amp;#187; That&amp;#8217;s not a joke. In two years,...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lv6u4wRkTm1qg8cl8.jpg"/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Life in the UK Test, Study Guide (2011 Edition)&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; That&amp;#8217;s not a joke. In two years, if I&amp;#8217;d like to keep living in the UK, I have to pass an exam about life in the country. Apparently, knowing how many members the Houses of Parliament has or in which days are the bank holidays in England show to the government that I am well-integrated to the British Society, indeed (funny to see that many Brits don&amp;#8217;t know the answer for some questions). Detail: the official material was released in 2007, so who is going to take the exam must answer according to this material - with many old information, such as the national minimum wage rates, which have changed many times since then. &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I read this book now because, in fact, it&amp;#8217;s a good introduction about the country (at least for me, as a journalist) - from how the educational systems are in the UK work to how to do in case of a problem with your neighbour (hope I don&amp;#8217;t need to apply this one). But I&amp;#8217;ll leave the practice tests to be done in two years. &lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/13274719758</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/13274719758</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 Nov 2011 19:50:00 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>O Reino e o Poder - Uma História do New York Times, de Gay Talese&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &amp;#8220;Em poucos...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img height="250" width="174" src="http://www.caotico.com.br/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/reino_poder.jpg" align="left"/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O Reino e o Poder - Uma História do New York Times, de Gay Talese&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &amp;#8220;Em poucos instantes, serão quatro horas da tarde em Nova York, nove horas da noite em Londres e onze horas no Cairo; cinco da manhã em Saigon, seis horas em Tóquio e oito horas nas ilhas Salomão - e os correspondentes do &lt;em&gt;Times&lt;/em&gt; no mundo inteiro se encontram em estados variados de ansiedade, sobriedade, propriedade e sono; em Nova York, as secretárias, intocadas pelo aspecto exótico e erótico das terras distantes, estão esperando para uma pausa para o café; e os copidesques, escrevinhadores sedentários, estão calmamente redigindo manchetes: &lt;em&gt;Atraso em manifestação revela racha sino-romeno&amp;#8230; Polícia do Mississippi usa gás para expulsar manifestantes acampados&lt;/em&gt;. Os editores estão em via de levantar-se e atravessar a sala até o escritório do diretor de redação. Clifton Daniel está esperando por eles, sentado à sua mesa lendo algumas anotações que fez para lembrar-se de que não estava inteiramente feliz de manhã, enquanto vinha de trem de Bedford lendo o &lt;em&gt;Times&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Abertura do Capítulo 6, página 143 - Amo o texto do Gay Talese. Esse nem é o melhor exemplo. Mas reparem como ele conduz o leitor das &amp;#8220;terras distantes&amp;#8221; até a &amp;#8220;mosquinha&amp;#8221; dentro da sala do diretor de redação, e com muita informação nova a cada linha, sem enrolação&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/12834905560</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/12834905560</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 Nov 2011 09:40:13 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title>A Vida que Ninguém Vê, de Eliane Brum&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &amp;#8220;Essa é uma época de incontinência verbal....</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="240" src="http://arqui.webstorelw.com.br/tenants/arqui/assets/products/8/product/A_VIDA.jpg?1290554275" align="left"/&gt;A Vida que Ninguém Vê, de Eliane Brum&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &amp;#8220;Essa é uma época de incontinência verbal. Não sei se as pessoas falavam tanto assim antes. Sempre me surpreendo com a capacidade que muitos têm de preencher todo o tempo e o espaço com as palavras, muitas vezes sem dizer nada. Sempre penso: o que aconteceria se por um momento elas silenciassem? Qual é a ameaça contida no silêncio? Ou qual é o som que não suportamos ouvir para precisar cobri-lo com o ruído ininterrupto de nossa voz? Vivemos com muito som e pouca fúria.&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Trecho do texto final do livro, &amp;#8220;Sobre a Melhor Profissão do Mundo&amp;#8221;&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/12070329962</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/12070329962</guid><pubDate>Sat, 29 Oct 2011 10:00:05 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>
Abusado - O Dono do Morro Dona Marta, de Caco Barcellos&amp;#160;&amp;#187;

Anotações de capítulos para...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;img height="268" width="180" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1202382240l/146712.jpg" align="left"/&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Abusado - O Dono do Morro Dona Marta, de Caco Barcellos&amp;#160;&amp;#187;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Anotações de capítulos para releitura:&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt; Capítulo 22 - Palavra de Honra (&lt;em&gt;repórteres de três jornais se infiltram na favela na época das gravações do clipe de Michael Jackson&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt; Capítulo 23 - Eu Fumo o Mato Certo (&lt;em&gt;três versões de uma mesma entrevista&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt; Parte III - Adeus às Armas (&lt;em&gt;a relação do autor com o traficante, as entrevistas para o livro etc&lt;/em&gt;)  &lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/11951904122</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/11951904122</guid><pubDate>Wed, 26 Oct 2011 12:59:00 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>Deus é Inocente; a Imprensa, Não, de Carlos Dorneles &amp;#187; Foi no dia 11 de setembro desde ano que...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img align="left" src="http://www.resenhando.com/resenhas/D_I_A_N.jpg" width="175" height="266"/&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Deus é Inocente; a Imprensa, Não, de Carlos Dorneles &lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#187; Foi no dia 11 de setembro desde ano que resgatei o livro da prateleira e comecei a leitura. É uma análise do que foi publicado fundamentalmente por quatro jornais brasileiros (Estadão, Folha, Globo e Jornal do Brasil) e por três revistas (Veja, Época e IstoÉ) entre os atentados de 11/09 e seu primeiro &amp;#8220;aniversário&amp;#8221;. O livro só endossa a máxima de que, &lt;strong&gt;em uma guerra, a primeira vítima é a verdade&lt;/strong&gt; e revela ao público o quanto jornais brasileiros são dependentes das agências internacionais (poucos correspondentes conseguem trazer algo mais). Gostei das partes em que se recupera aspectos esquecidos - por exemplo, que Bin Laden já foi um aliado americano, que os Estados Unidos terceirizaram a batalha em solo e a brutalidade da Aliança do Norte (aliada americana).&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/10943859597</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/10943859597</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Oct 2011 15:38:00 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>O Jornalista e o Assassino, de Janet Malcolm&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &amp;#8220;Qualquer jornalista que não seja...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="280" src="http://bravonline.abril.com.br/blogs/entretantos/files/2011/04/OJornalistaeOAssassino.jpg" width="189"/&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O Jornalista e o Assassino, de Janet Malcolm&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; &lt;em&gt;&amp;#8220;Qualquer jornalista que não seja demasiado obtuso ou cheio de si para perceber o que está acontecendo sabe que o que ele faz é moralmente indefensável. Ele é uma espécie de confidente, que se nutre da vaidade, da ignorância ou da solidão das pessoas. Tal como a viúva confiante, que acorda um belo dia e descobre que aquele rapaz encantador e todas as suas economias sumiram, o indivíduo que consente em ser tema de um escrito não ficcional aprende - quando o artigo ou livro aparece - a sua própria dura lição. Os jornalistas justificam a sua própria traição de várias maneiras, de acordo com o temperamento de cada um. Os mais pomposos falam de liberdade de expressão e do &amp;#8216;direito do público a saber&amp;#8217;.; os menos talentosos falam sobre a Arte; os mais decentes murmuram algo sobre ganhar a vida.&amp;#8221;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;* * *&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Assim Janet Malcolm abre o livro, no qual faz uma reflexão sobre a relação entre o repórter e o entrevistado enquanto disseca o caso do médido Jeffrey MacDonald (o assassino) e de Joe McGinniss (o jornalista). Confesso que ouvi falar primeiro no livro, neste ano, em meio a um &lt;em&gt;buzz&lt;/em&gt; - acho porque a Cia. das Letras lançou essa versão de bolso, que custou R$ 21 na Cultura -, mas ontem mesmo encontrei uma lista de must-read que algum professor da faculdade nos passou e lá estava &lt;em&gt;O Jornalista e o Assassino&lt;/em&gt;. Leia mais &lt;a href="http://wp.clicrbs.com.br/mundolivro/2011/08/03/o-deslumbre-do-entrevistado/?topo=13,1,1,,,13" target="_blank"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;* * *&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Há anos, li outro livro de Janet Malcolm: &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Mulher Calada - Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes e os Limites da Biografia&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Foi uma baita aula. Revirei meu quarto em busca dele agora, para reler, mas não o encontrei. Focava &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amarga Fama&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, de Anne Stevenson, a principal biografia sobre a poetisa americana (a qual li após &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Mulher Calada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;). A ideia que ficou mais forte em mim foi que Anne escreveu o livro &amp;#8220;com os olhos da família de Ted Hughes sobre seus ombros&amp;#8221; - ou seja, com uma visão parcial, sendo controlada (Sylvia Plath se suicidou, mas surgiram controvérsias sobre o que a levou a isso. Por exemplo, as feministas odeiam Ted Hughes, seu ex-marido - mas Sylvia nunca foi uma feminista). Espero reencontrá-lo!&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/10095574793</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/10095574793</guid><pubDate>Sun, 11 Sep 2011 17:24:00 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>Viver para Contar, por Gabriel García Márquez&amp;#160;&amp;#187; A prosa de Gabriel García Márquez é...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img align="left" height="275" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p6txcaEp_Wc/SwMD8BvkYlI/AAAAAAAAASk/i0yho-3nroI/s1600/Viver+para+contar.jpg" width="180"/&gt;Viver para Contar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, por Gabriel García Márquez&amp;#160;&amp;#187; A prosa de Gabriel García Márquez é envolvente - e ler sobre seus &lt;em&gt;earlier years&lt;/em&gt;, tendo a Colômbia das décadas de 20 a 50 como cenário, é delicioso. Esses tempos, publiquei &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://londonme.wordpress.com/2011/06/18/o-paraiso-alheio/" target="_blank"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; um trecho do &lt;em&gt;Viver para Contar&lt;/em&gt; sobre as leituras de sua época de estudante de Direito. Além de seu início como repórter, me interessei por todas as vezes em que ele menciona Cartagena - simplesmente porque há anos alimento o desejo de conhecer essa cidade e, desde julho, tem sido mais fácil chegar lá a partir de Porto Alegre (apenas dois voos e &lt;em&gt;&lt;span&gt;¡&lt;/span&gt;ya está!&lt;/em&gt;). &lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Foi com &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Notícias de um Sequestro&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; que fui apresentada à Márquez e com o qual compreendi a questão das Farc na Colômbia. Li na faculdade - comecei à força e larguei. Comecei de novo, mas ao chegar lá pela página 140, fui fisgada. Arrisquei a leitura de outros (curtos) no original: &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Crónica de una Muerte Anunciada&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; e &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Memoria de Mis Putas Tristes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Mas senti falta de não ter lido &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cem Anos de Solidão&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;O General em Seu Labirinto&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; e &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Amor em Tempos de Cólera&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (vi o filme, mas óbvio que não é o mesmo). Tenho a impressão de quem leu essas obras essenciais de García Márquez consegue se sentir mais consciente do seu repertório ao ler a biografia, consegue captar mais referências ou conexões veladas com essas obras. Ou, para quem pretende ler esses livros, pode ter sido uma boa preparação.&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/9762754279</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/9762754279</guid><pubDate>Sat, 03 Sep 2011 19:29:00 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>Os livros na era da web</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&amp;#8220;&lt;span&gt;Segundo a pesquisadora Maria Lucia Santaella Braga, professora da PUC-SP e autora do livro O Perfil Cognitivo do Leitor Imersivo (Paulus, 2004), &lt;strong&gt;hoje existem três tipos de leitor convivendo ao mesmo tempo&lt;/strong&gt;. Um deles é o leitor &lt;strong&gt;contemplativo&lt;/strong&gt;, da era préindustrial. Outro é o leitor que ela chama de &amp;#8220;&lt;strong&gt;movente&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;#8221;, que lê não só o livro impresso mas também os signos urbanos. E, finalmente, o leitor &lt;strong&gt;imersivo&lt;/strong&gt;, que navega pelas redes de comunicação e tem a atenção necessária para lidar com a enorme quantidade de links e hiperlinks ligados a um texto. &lt;strong&gt;São três perfis, três formas de ler, que convivem lado a lado - e sem uma ser melhor que a outra&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;#8221; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;span&gt;Trecho da matéria &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Os livros na era da web&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, da revista &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vida Simples&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; - leia a íntegra &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://vidasimples.abril.com.br/edicoes/106/atitude/livros-era-web-629279.shtml"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/6364005433</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/6364005433</guid><pubDate>Thu, 09 Jun 2011 19:03:17 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>"Having a bad time on a trip is helpful. “Literature is made out of the misfortunes of others,” VS..."</title><description>“Having a bad time on a trip is helpful. “Literature is made out of the misfortunes of others,” VS Pritchett once wrote. “A large number of travel books fail because of the monotonous good luck of their authors.””&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;Paul Theroux, in &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/71b85180-87e5-11e0-a6de-00144feabdc0.html#axzz1NmNai6Vr"&gt;The places in between&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, on Financial Times, 27th May, 2011.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;[ He’s the author of &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Great Railway Bazaar &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;(1974, which I recommmend) and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Tao of Travel: Enlightenments from Lives on the Road&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ]&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/6003709347</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/6003709347</guid><pubDate>Mon, 30 May 2011 13:11:06 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>O Livreiro de Cabul, por Asne Seierstad&amp;#160;&amp;#187;
&amp;#8220;O vapor exala dos corpos nus. Mãos se...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img align="left" src="http://livrariaupstage.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/265x383/5e06319eda06f020e43594a9c230972d/O/_/O_Livreiro_de_Cabul.jpg" width="265" height="383"/&gt;O Livreiro de Cabul&lt;/strong&gt;, por Asne Seierstad&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;#8220;&lt;em&gt;O vapor exala dos corpos nus. Mãos se movimentam em ritmo acelerado. Raios de sol entram furtivamente por duas portinholas no teto, conferindo um tom pitoresco a bundas, peitos e coxas. Os corpos na sala de banho quente só podem ser vislumbrados através do vapor, até que os olhos se acostumem com a iluminação mágica. Os rostos estão concentrados. Aquilo não é um prazer, é trabalho duro.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Em dois salões grandes há mulheres deitadas, sentadas ou em pé, se esfregando. Esfregam os corpos, umas às outras ou aos filhos. Algumas são gordas, parecendo saídas de uma pintura de Rubens, outras são magérrimas, as costelas salientes. Com grandes luvas de cânhamo caseiras esfregam as costas, braços e pernas umas às outras. Lixam a pele dura dos pés com pedra-pomes. Mães esfregam as filhas prontas para casar, examinando com atenção seus corpos. Não vai levar muito tempo para que as mocinhas com peitos de pomba tornem-se mães amamentando. Adolescentes grávidas ganham largas estrias após darem à luz precocemente. Quase todas as mulheres têm a pele estriada nas barrigas, por terem parido muito jovens ou com muita freqüência.&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Foram com esses dois parágrafos que retomei a leitura de &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Livreiro de Cabul&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; na página 187, após 13 meses. Era o livro que eu estava lendo (e adorando) antes de ir para a Inglaterra, mas decidi não levá-lo. Cheguei a pensar em retirar da biblioteca lá e seguir a leitura, mas só agora voltei a ele e terminei. Esse hiato não interferiu tanto no meu entendimento da história pois, nessa parte do livro, a autora relata mais histórias individuais. A descrição dos parágrafos acima já foram suficientes para me reambientar à narrativa. Não vi a autora quando ela passou por Porto Alegre, há um tempo, embora já tinha lido dela &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;101 dias em Bagdá&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (ótimo livro). E ainda há outras obras como essa me esperando na prateleira.&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/5979665958</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/5979665958</guid><pubDate>Sun, 29 May 2011 19:27:00 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>Barchester Towers, by Anthony Trollope » It’s...</title><description>&lt;img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_llo8cqVa5D1qh91zko1_r1_250.jpg"/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Barchester Towers, by Anthony Trollope&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; » It’s hard to believe that I read this book. Before all, I have to explain why: I’m not a native speaker, and the edition I read was in English… from the 19th century. It was a gift I got during my time in Birmingham (from a Trollope fan!), and I faced this reading as a challenge to my learning. When possible, I do prefer to read books in their original language - so I just read some Gabriel García Marquez’s books in Spanish, for example, and a few in English. Obviously, I take a longer time than I usually do when I read in Portuguese (my native language), and I don’t like to stop every minute to check a word on the dictionary. My main concern is getting the meaning, learning some new words and enjoying the story.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The “challenge” started about 8 months ago - during this time, I did three long pauses, when I read another book in English (&lt;em&gt;&lt;a target="_blank" href="http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3295736473/once-while-travelling-the-lonely-planet-story"&gt;Once While Travelling&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;) and got involved with a books’ project here in Brazil. My main difficulty, however, was not the language when I started reading the book, but the understanding of the mentality and social relationships at that time in England. The context is the changing on the clerical world of Barchester when the bishop died.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;What I enjoyed the most on the plot was the “possible husbands” for Eleanor Bold and, mainly, the Stanhope family - to me, their appearance on the city causes confusion and some schemes between the characters, what made the plot wittier to me. Because the book was a personal challenge, I don’t feel as I could recommend it or not. In future, when I’d improved my English and know more about England’s history, I would read this book again, to see this story with different eyes. &lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/5783159730</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/5783159730</guid><pubDate>Mon, 23 May 2011 20:54:40 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/series/new-europe-germany</title><description>&lt;a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/series/new-europe-germany"&gt;http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/series/new-europe-germany&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;p&gt;On the n&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;ew Guardian’s serie about Europe&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;,&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;G&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;e&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;r&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;m&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;a&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;n&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;y&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;i&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;s&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;t&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;h&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;e&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;f&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;i&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;r&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;s&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;t&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;s&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;t&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;o&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;p&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;N&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;i&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;c&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;e&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;c&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;o&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;n&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;t&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;e&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;n&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;t&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;s&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="_mce_start"&gt;﻿&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3860104791</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3860104791</guid><pubDate>Mon, 14 Mar 2011 16:58:22 -0300</pubDate></item><item><title>"A gente ensaiou uma onda de transporte coletivo na primeira metade do seculo 20, com trens e bondes...."</title><description>““A gente ensaiou uma onda de transporte coletivo na primeira metade do seculo 20, com trens e bondes. Mas aih chegou o sucesso da industria automobilistica nos anos 50, que criou o delirio de que ser dono de um carro eh o coroamento do sucesso individual. E ateh hoje, mesmo com o mundo em colapso, nao conseguimos nos livrar dessa mentalidade. Quando nos adotamos o transporte individual, estamos retomando a ideia da cadeirinha carregada por escravos do Brasil colonial.””&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; - &lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Antropólogo &lt;strong&gt;Roberto Da Matta&lt;/strong&gt;, em entrevista à TRIP de setembro de 2010. Se não leu antes, vale a pena ler toda a entrevista &lt;a target="_blank" href="http://revistatrip.uol.com.br/revista/192/paginas-negras/a-direcao-do-brasil.html"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt; - baita sacada da foto&lt;/em&gt;. Texto aqui sem acentos porque a fonte não os reconhecem *sigh*&lt;/em&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3570960686</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3570960686</guid><pubDate>Mon, 28 Feb 2011 19:01:00 -0400</pubDate></item><item><title> Superinteressante, Fevereiro de 2011&amp;#160;&amp;#187; Destaque para a matéria de capa sobre a amizade...</title><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img height="327" width="246" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FXCKIeD-K60/TUlKjrSbUvI/AAAAAAAABoc/O3o9SBeo6hY/s350/amizade%2Bsuper.jpg" align="left"/&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Superinteressante, Fevereiro de 2011&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#187; Destaque para a matéria de capa sobre a amizade (incluindo como os amigos influenciam a nossa vida, quantos amigos de verdade a gente pode ter e como as redes sociais mudaram essas relações). A mais instigante, no entanto, foi a reportagem dos campos de concentração no Brasil - para onde alemães que chegaram ao país durante a guerra eram mandados. Eles até não eram tão maltrados, mas essas famílias sofriam perseguição. A matéria cita um livro de 2009 - mas como o assunto não virou pauta antes? Ou só eu não vi?&lt;/p&gt;</description><link>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3454462505</link><guid>http://melissabecker.tumblr.com/post/3454462505</guid><pubDate>Tue, 22 Feb 2011 21:00:07 -0400</pubDate><category>revistas</category><category>brazil</category><category>brasil</category></item></channel></rss>

