Max and the Cats is now in Denmark
* This piece was originally published by Juliana Bublitz in GZH (22/10/2024) A classic by Moacyr Scliar (1937-2011), one of the most translated Brazilian authors abroad, has now been published in Denmark. Jensen & Dalgaard has just released Max and the Cats (Max og kattene, in Danish). Originally published in 1981, the novel describes the adventures of the young German Max Schmidt, who flees Nazi persecution and ends up aboard a ship on the high seas in the company of a jaguar. The Danish edition includes an afterword written by Scliar himself about the controversy surrounding the accusation of plagiarism against Yan Martell, author of The Life of Pi (2001). Canadian author Yan Martell, winner of the Booker Prize, was accused of copying the story of Max and the Cats in his book, which was later made into a movie. Despite the striking similarities, Scliar never sued his fellow writer. He pointed out that the story of the Hindu boy Piscine Molitor Patel – Pi – saved from shipwreck by a Bengal tiger, is different from his own. “But the leitmotif is the same. And then there’s the embarrassing term: plagiarism. Hardly embarrassing for me,” wrote the author from Rio Grande do Sul. After the controversy, Martell acknowledged in the introduction to his book that he was inspired by Scliar’s own idea.
“The One-Man Army” in three scenes, produced by Prana Films
On the occasion of the 50th anniversary of O exército de um homem só (“The One-Man Army”), we have prepared an audiovisual adaptation of three passages from the book. The production is by Prana Films, with direction and screenplay by Carlos Gerbase. The cast includes Luiz Paulo Vasconcellos, Roberto Oliveira, Luciana Paz, Mirna Spritzer and Sérgio Lulkin. Below we reproduce Carlos Gerbase’s testimonial about the creative process of adapting the scenes, also available after the text. ONE MORE FOR BIROBIDJAN’S ARMY By Carlos Gerbase Although the novel is called The One-Man Army, I don’t think its author can complain about the small battalion of cultural guerrillas responsible for the video created to celebrate the 50th anniversary of this very important work in Moacyr Scliar’s career. Early this year, I received a phone call from Judith Scliar asking me to think about a video that would show something of the story of Captain Birobidjan. I immediately remembered that we had produced some videos with Moacyr’s characters for the 2014 exhibition at Santander Cultural, and among them were Mayer (the future Birobidjan, as a child) and his mother, played by Mirna Spritzer. I asked for some time to reread “The One-Man Army,” and think about a script for the video. It was a lot of fun to read it again. Although I remembered Mayer’s personality well, revisiting the details of his story made me laugh a lot. Of course, I had to adapt the script to the scale of the production: a maximum of ten minutes and one day to shoot. One scene that seemed to be a must, which both Judith and Gabriel Oliven remembered, was that of Mayer’s father making a crazy appointment with Freud at Salgado Filho Airport. Upon rereading the sequence, I agreed with them. It was very long, taking up several pages, but I synthesized and simplified some actions until I got it down to a reasonable length. The problem was that in these two scenes, the first with Mayer as a child and the second with Mayer’s father, the captain himself would not appear. I realized that we needed a third episode with Mayer as an adult. I found a scene from the book where the wife, Leia, goes to visit Nova Birobidjan and finds her husband who is nearly demented and lonely, living with a pig, a goat and a chicken. It was just the right length, it was funny, and it was a nice counterpoint to the opening scene, because it involved Mayer submitting to a female character (and a Jewish one, of course) who forces him to eat. I sent the script proposal to Judith and Gabriel, and after a few minor tweaks, it was approved. It was then time to add to the army. I cast the actors I felt were right for the characters: Roberto Oliveira (Mayer’s father), Luiz Paulo Vasconcellos (Freud), Sérgio Lulkin (Mayer) and Luciana Paz (Leia). I sent them the script and explained the project. They agreed on the spot. I set up a rehearsal for us to fine-tune our acting style. We probably didn’t even need to. There was no shortage of talent and experience. My team was small, but very competent: Alexander Desmouceaux (photography and editing), Cleverton Borges (direct sound), Anelisa Teles (costumes) and Baby Marques (make-up). On June 14, we filmed all the scenes with a green backdrop, which was subsequently replaced by virtual sets. I think the end result was what Judith, Gabriel and I had in mind from the start. For readers of Moacyr Scliar, who I’m sure are also fans of Captain Birobidjan, seeing these characters again, if only for a few minutes, is a playful way of paying homage to an author who liked to play and have fun with his stories, which never compromised his stylistic rigor. For me, who read The War in Bom Fim, The One-Man Army and The Gods of Raquel when I was taking my first steps into literature and cinema, it will always be a pleasure to dialogue with the work of this great writer. Maybe one day we’ll be able to move forward and play with other characters and other stories even with just a small army. Watch the three scenes: https://youtu.be/OHmCSAZN1kI
Companhia das Letras reissues out-of-print works by Moacyr Scliar
Out-of-print books by Moacyr Scliar will soon be back on the shelves, with pages that smell brand new. Starting in September, the Companhia das Letras will begin a project to reissue works by the Gaucho writer, who died in 2011. It will begin with the reprinting of the paperback edition of A Majestade do Xingu (1987) (The majesty of the Xingu), already scheduled for next month. In the first half of next year, the book will be released as a special edition with a new cover, and a new preface and afterword by writers Paulo Scott and Michel Laub, respectively. Other new releases include an expanded edition of the short story anthology Contos Reunidos (1995) (Collected stories), this time edited by UFRGS literature Prof. Regina Zilberman, scheduled for publication late next year, and a comic book adaptation of what is considered Scliar’s masterpiece, The Centaur in the Garden (1980), which has yet to be released. Other titles in the publisher’s catalog, such as Sonhos Tropicais (1992) (Tropical dreams), Saturno nos Trópicos (2003) (Saturn in the tropics), and Manual da Paixão Solitária (2008) (Manual of the solitary passion), among others, will be reissued with new covers. Renowned for her studies of Scliar’s literature, Regina says that the new collection of short stories will keep texts that were part of the first edition but will also include later work by the writer. “In the 1990s, Moacyr agreed to publish Contos Reunidos, and the book was to include everything he considered important among the short stories, what he thought was best. It’s interesting that, from then on, he didn’t publish any more books of short stories. But he didn’t stop writing them. The new selection keeps the stories already published and added those written later. Moacyr himself sent me several of them,” says the professor. Pedro Schwarcz, editorial assistant at Companhia das Letras and editor of Scliar’s works, emphasizes the importance of reissuing the works of a writer who was both accessible and sophisticated, with a unique ability to mix history and fiction to create funny and melancholic narratives: “Scliar mixes the historical novel with elements of fantasy literature, playing with the myths that shape our Western Judeo-Christian culture. He mixes humor, lyricism, satire, and melancholy. History and fiction merge in a contradictory and critical way. He is a great novelist and a great short story writer. He deserves to be reprinted,” says Schwarcz. For Prof. Zilberman, the timeless nature of Scliar’s themes will continue to resonate with generations to come. “Moacyr has a lot to say to every generation because his themes are still relevant today. A Majestade do Xingu (The majesty of the Xingu), for example, is about the Indigenous people of the Xingu, and it was written in the 1980s, when the debate about Indigenous issues was not that intense. But his books need to be available to readers.” * Article by Karina Dalla Valle originally published on the GZH website
10 books to get to know the work of Moacyr Scliar, by Carlos André Moreira
What if you had to choose ten books that are absolutely essential for someone to get to know Moacyr Scliar? Well, journalist and writer Carlos Andre Moreira took on this challenge on the occasion of the author’s death and recently published his choices on Sler. Along with the list, Carlos also gives a brief outline of his relationship with Scliar, when they were editorial colleagues at the newspaper Zero Hora. A must-read that you can check out below or in original publication directly on Sler! 10 BOOKS TO GET TO KNOW THE WORK OF MOACYR SCLIAR By Carlos André Moreira Besides reading his work since I was a teenager, I was lucky enough to work with Scliar professionally for a while. First as a staff reporter for Zero Hora. As a columnist for the Living section, Scliar was a frequent visitor to the department, which also housed the team that edited the supplement. He would always stop by to discuss the cover story for that week’s edition and tailor his column to the main story – in that regard, he would literally say he didn’t like very abstract subjects. He was such a fervent admirer of the illustrator who worked on his pages, Bebel Callage, that he didn’t like to write anything that was too vague or didn’t have at least one solid element for the illustrator. In his books, Scliar has always given the impression of being a gentle humanist. This impression is not always borne out when we meet the writer in the flesh – and, contrary to what the sensitive contemporary crowd addicted to finding triggers for everything thinks, it’s not even about confirming it, the best life of a writer will always be in his books. But in rare cases, the writer himself fully matches the impression you get from reading them. This was the case with Scliar, a gentle man who didn’t shy away from conversation and was a great storyteller. He also talked about things he found interesting in the medical literature he was following (he insisted that if you decided to drink coffee, there was one type that should be avoided at all costs because it was harmful to the heart – unfortunately I can’t remember if it was instant coffee or not, and if I have a heart attack soon, you’ll know I chose the wrong coffee). I ended up in the Second Section of Zero Hora, and after a while started writing about books. That was when I began to have very frequent contact with Scliar. Well-traveled and extremely well-informed, he would always drop in with a word about something he had seen or read, or to ask if we wanted to talk about something in future issues, or if he could write it himself – and he did. He never missed a deadline, no matter how tight, and had such a way with words that it became legend. When I tell these anecdotes, I don’t mean to imply that Scliar was my friend. I interviewed him several times, we talked a lot about literature, and although he himself treated me with great and warm familiarity, I always continued to call him “Professor,” a reverence I never gave up, not only for him, but also for other great veterans I met along the way. That’s the point here: Scliar was so kind and approachable that he could make you feel close to him, even if the contact was only professional. He was a warm personality, with always a warm and elegant word. As we approach these anniversaries scheduled to mark some of the milestones in his career, I felt inspired to pay tribute to Scliar by revisiting a list that was published in the newspaper the day after the author’s death. At that time, the texts about the books had to be quite short due to space constraints. So, I thought it was worth sharing it in a longer, more careful version. Scliar published more than 80 books during his lifetime, more than one a year. Therefore, in the following list, I have omitted copies of his children’s and young adult literature, as well as his collections of columns. The former because I haven’t read everything Scliar has written, and I’m not the best judge of the value of this type of genre, which has its own characteristics – I’m not 10 or 15 anymore, and I’m very happy about that. The second is that I’ve never been a big fan of columns in particular, and I think that in an oeuvre with eight dozen titles, I need to make room for what I consider essential in Scliar’s work. If you’ve never read anything by him, go ahead and read the Columns. If you want to get a better idea of the whole, I think the following selection is more productive. In a corpus as vast as Scliar’s work, it’s one possible approach: 1. A Guerra no Bom Fim (The War in Bom Fim) (L&PM, 1972) In his first novel, Moacyr Scliar, already an acclaimed short story writer, tells an evocative story of his upbringing. The boy Joel remembers his childhood in the 1940s in the Jewish neighborhood of Bom Fim in Porto Alegre. Scliar borrows from the Jewish oral and literary tradition the bittersweet humor that would become a hallmark of his fiction. At the heart of the novel are the memories of a boy in Bom Fim, almost a village, an immigrant stronghold that evokes the European shtetl in a different setting. The discovery of Joel’s maturity amidst the echoes of the war in Europe gives the book a magical atmosphere that mixes the boy’s childhood experiences with the conflict imagined by the news from Europe. “Bullets whizzed through the air, the Stukas and Messerchimitts rumbled over Capa o da Canoa,” Scliar writes at one point, laying the foundations for his career as a novelist. 2. O exército de um homem só (The One-Man Army) (L&PM, 1973)
