|Although his mother does get one mention due to her ability to ruin his sex life from another country.|
"This is too big for a photograph"is probably not something a real photographer has ever said. But Jorge gets away with it because none of this seems real. In a vacuum, this chapter reads like a fable, a ghost story. Brás and Jorge are traveling in exotic Salvador. Brás dreams of a woman in a roawboat on a churning dark sea littered with baskets of flowers, who's telling him to bring her gifts, and this dream seems to pull him towards the strange woman he meets, and she joins them on their trip and she's clever and caring and sweet as anything, and she tells them his dream was about Iemanjá, a water spirit who just so happens to be the object of a celebration on the beach tomorrow and won't they stay to join in, and Brás drowns in a scene just like his dream.
|So I gave up wrestling with my scanner and went looking for scans online. This is certainly better than what I could accomplish, but it's worth pointing out it looks a lot flatter and paler than the real thing.|
This issue is short and to the point. It states its theme very literally:
"If you travel too fast, all you're gonna see is a blur and you'll never meet anyone interesting."And it drags you along to the next one with harsh efficiency. That may be ironic. There is a nice little scene in a market where the mystery woman - Olinda, she says - talks about being defined by more than her job and puts on a whole case study of Jorge who's living in the moment and photographing everything and telling us who he is through his pictures, an it's possible all this is just because she doesn't want to say what she does for a living. Because she's a ghooost. Or juust maybe she's a bum or unpaid maid to her mother or sex worker and ashamed to talk about it. The magic is very ambiguous, with full deniability.
Hey, maybe she's Hobbes!
But there is a distinct surreality going on here. People keep having conversations I just can't imagine happening in real life. Heck, Brás meets Olinda on a rowboat: he goes for a dive, finds a pair of feet dangling in the water, climbs into the boat and starts talking, and suddenly they're opening their hearts about loneliness and the meaning of life and stuff. I can imagine that something like this may happen in this country, very far away from any place I know, but I guess it's dreamlike either way. For me and the intended north American audience.
(It's still very hard to believe the part where Jorge ribs Brás for being really white on the beach and Brás goes on a speech beginning with the words "We're all born equal".)
But, aside from the actual dream episode later on, I don't remember the comic being this casually fantastic. It may have been too long since I read it, or there's something off about this episode. As much as I like the barrage of profundities and want to believe it works by creating its own style of internally consistent dialogue, as Tarantino does so well. Chalk it up to early installment weirdness/sophomore slump I guess.
Back to ch. 1 | Index