Feira do Livro
Sob o signo “Cidadania” irá realizar-se de 29 de Abril a 04 de Maio a XIIIª edição da Feira do Livro de Góis.
A inauguração deste certame terá lugar no dia 29 de Abril, no Largo Francisco Inácio Dias Nogueira [Lg. Do Pombal], pelas 14.00 horas, estando presente nesta cerimónia o escritor José Jorge Letria.
A inauguração deste certame terá lugar no dia 29 de Abril, no Largo Francisco Inácio Dias Nogueira [Lg. Do Pombal], pelas 14.00 horas, estando presente nesta cerimónia o escritor José Jorge Letria.
Os Livros
Apetece chamar-lhes irmãos,
Afagá-los com as mãos,
Abri-los de par em par,
Ver o Pinóquio a rir
E o D. Quixote a sonhar,
E a Alice do outro lado
Do espelho a inventar
Um mundo de assombros
Que dá gosto visitar.
Apetece chamar-lhes irmãos
E deixar brilhar os olhos
Nas páginas das suas mãos.
José Jorge Letria
in Pela casa fora...
Apetece chamar-lhes irmãos,
Afagá-los com as mãos,
Abri-los de par em par,
Ver o Pinóquio a rir
E o D. Quixote a sonhar,
E a Alice do outro lado
Do espelho a inventar
Um mundo de assombros
Que dá gosto visitar.
Apetece chamar-lhes irmãos
E deixar brilhar os olhos
Nas páginas das suas mãos.
José Jorge Letria
in Pela casa fora...
Os livros são a metade dos sonhos que tu tens...
José Jorge Letria
in Ler, doce ler
O Pequeno Pintor sabe que os livros às vezes sabem muito mais do que nós supomos que eles sabem. Abre o livro e viaja nele, como se viajasse à proa de um barco enfeitado com fitas coloridas do mês de Maio.
- Gosto que penses que sou um barco - diz-lhe o livro, balançando para os lados como se fosse um barco a sério.
O Pequeno Pintor responde-lhe:
- Leva-me até ao fim das tuas páginas.
E o livro leva-o. Quando chega a uma baía sem nome, pára para descansar. Poisa-lhe uma gaivota dentro das páginas e ele sente cócegas e ri muito. Quando a história acaba, o Pequeno Pintor e o livro aprenderam mais uma viagem.
José Jorge Letria
in O Pequeno Pintor sabe...
posted by Damião de Góis at 4/27/2009 10:01:00 da tarde
8 Comments:
Registo, escrito, texto ou livro. Romance, notícia ou ciência.
De pedra, de papiro, de papel ou electrónico, aumentam a consciência.
Indecifráveis, Hieroglíficos.
Pergaminhos Magníficos
Sebentas de papel dos tempos nostálgicos.
PDF, Office, tecnológicos e mágicos.
Viva o Cidadão.
VIVA O POVO LIVRE!
Digam-me cá, esta história dos "Vivas" a isto e aquilo, não tem a ver com salazarismo? Claro que tem, este cidadão tresanda a antigo regime.
Por isso, agora que vivemos em democracia, vou também dar um Viva.
Viva EU, que sou o maior na minha rua! (não tem mais ninguém)!
Ah pois...
-Caro Senhor "12:18": o leitor julgará ao que o dito cidadão "tresanda".
-Cada pessoa dá "VIVAS" ao que pretende. É livre de o fazer. Não colide com a liberdade dos outros.
-A sua opinião não condiciona, de forma alguma, a minha liberdade de de consciência. A sua opinião, é sua!
-O Caro Senhor "12:18" também é livre de manifestar o seu regozijo, dando VIVAS.
-Por último, digo-lhe, que Homens como Salazar e Cunhal, há poucos: Salazar tirou a fome ao POVO e Cunhal tirou o POVO da fome.
-Leia, instrua-se, cultive-se, e modere-se.
VIVA O POVO LIVRE!
The Independent; April 25, 2009
Robert Fisk's World: Everyone wants to be an author, but no one is reading books
Our dependency on computers is destroying our ability to ‘deep read’
I blame technology. The internet, email – neither of which I use – and the accursed laptop. I curse the laptop for two reasons. Firstly because I use it. Secondly because it encourages hopeless authorship. It's not that everyone with a laptop thinks they can write a book. The problem is that everyone with a laptop does write a book.
They arrive by the dozen, in my Beirut mail bag, unsolicited on my Beirut doorstep, in my European mail. A few are brilliant. Most are awful. They are packed with misspellings, bad grammar and often pseudo-anthropological jargon. "An Ontology of Abstraction and Concreteness" is the subtitle of one heavy volume I was generously handed after giving a lecture in Ottawa. "The Arab Mind as a Function of a Rational Epistemic Orientation" one chapter is entitled. "From Multidimensional Thinking to Dual and Dichotomous Thinking: The State of Intellectual Retreat," reads another. "Social Catalysts of Cultural Collapse." And on and on.
The foundation of the book isn't bad: that Westerners and Arabs think in different ways. The author uses four precious pages to describe the strengths of Arabic – the language is easier to spell than English; words for commonly used objects rarely overlap; it has a remarkable capacity for brevity; its verbal roots allow Arabic to coin new terms – but the book is buried in quotations from Nietzsche. "Negation of Negating Entities" is another chapter subtitle. The book almost has "Do Not Read" printed on the cover.
And this is far better than most. Many are in manuscript – there simply is, understandably, no publisher – and far too many are privately published. There may only be 10 copies in existence, but the writer can then call himself an "author" and bore us all. And can give me a conscience. I once chucked an unreadable manuscript PhD thesis on Pakistani literary "tropes" into my bin, but was conscious-stricken for weeks. However awful the work, I felt like a Nazi book-burner. Henceforth, I would lug numerous volumes around with me to leave in hotel rooms. Maybe the bellboy in Seattle would be interested in a history of anti-Zionism or the Filipina maid in Dubai in a doctoral thesis on Libyan flora. I gave several books on south-west Asia to my cook in Beirut – a lady from Togo – who absorbed every one and, I have to admit, predicted the murder of Benazir Bhutto weeks before her assassination.
But the hi-tech anthropological language now infects even lecture invitations. Not long ago, I received a letter from the "conference co-ordinator" of a major Canadian university which shall remain nameless. (A rich province of that great nation will be my only clue.) I was asked to give a 45-minute presentation to the meeting whose aim was "to challenge the mainstream hegemonic and ethnocentric discourse about radicalism and extremism ... in order to gain a better understanding of the multidimensionality of the problem". Needless to say, I let that one go by.
But how do I account for an even more recent laptop letter from the undergraduate head of a major British university debating society – the location of this academy is north-west of Hartlepool, in a riverside city with a 12th-century cathedral – who invited me to address its members. He was extending this invitation, he announced, because he found my reports on the Middle East "exstremely (sic) eluminating (sic)". Now I might just stretch some generosity to cover the misspelling of "extremely"; the X and the S are diagonally next to each other on the laptop. But the Molesworth-like "eluminating" for "illuminating"? Even the Latin origin is "illuminare". My hand reached out for my Beirut phone and I called Durham (yes, of course, this was the institution) only to have a young lady tell me that the undergraduate who wrote to me "doesn't always show his letters to me first". I guess she was the spell-checker for the debating society. I thought the laptop was supposed to do that.
I know they warn of misspelling with a red underline, which is why "recognize" rather than "recognise" and "favor" rather than "favour" keep slipping into British newspapers. But it is a fact – born out by almost every print-out that The Independent sends me – that emails are slovenly written, rife with misspellings, grammatically often incomprehensible. Trendy linguists may tell us that language is "evolving". It is not. SMSs aside – their codes are, after all, little more than a modern-day version of Morse code – emails are crippling our power to express ourselves.
Some months ago, The Independent published a long and wise article from Atlantic Monthly which suggested that the internet, Googling on laptops and dependency on computers were destroying our ability to "deep read". Readers of books, it seems, were experiencing ever greater difficulty in reading for any length of time. On a four-and-three-quarter-hour flight from Paris to Beirut, for example, I can usually read the entire French press (the paper version from the lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport) and up to 200 pages of a book.
Not so many of my fellow passengers. They put down their papers after a few minutes in the air and open up their laptop and skim through page after page of "documents". But when they turn to a book – usually a light novel – I notice that they are flicking through it. They are not reading. They are "surfing" the pages. At school, my English teachers would shout "concentrate" and "use your brains, boy". And we did. But now the internet does the concentration and the laptop is our brain. I am not alone out there. When a student in Georgia asked me two years ago if I could recommend "some good websites to learn about the Middle East", I asked him what was wrong with books. And the rest of the American students applauded my question.
I hate the "O tempora! O mores!" school of criticism. The "if-God-had-meant-us-to-fly-he-would-have-given-us-wings" argument holds no interest for me. Shouldn't the short-sighted (like me) have spectacles? It's just that I think we're so enamoured of hi-tech that we don't control it any more. We are not looking after ourselves.
-"Some months ago, The Independent published a long and wise article from Atlantic Monthly which suggested that the internet, Googling on laptops and dependency on computers were destroying our ability to "deep read"
-"...I can usually read the entire French press (the paper version from the lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport) and up to 200 pages of a book.
Not so many of my fellow passengers. They put down their papers after a few minutes in the air and open up their laptop and skim through page after page of "documents"".
-"At school, my English teachers would shout "concentrate" and "use your brains, boy". And we did. But now the internet does the concentration and the laptop is our brain".
Sr. Anaia: é tudo verdade. Cá em Portugal, com o Magalhães, caso não se faça um uso pedagogicamente correcto, ainda mais se deteriorará o hábito de leitura profunda.
A vida moderna não ajuda.
VIVA O POVO L I V R O!
Anaias então e o POVO tambem terá de renegar a sua língua patria para falar contigo?
O Anaia é um individuo muito cosmopolita. Vai daí, para mostrar a sua sapiência (?!) resolve escrever na lígua de sua Majestade bitânica. Saudades da monarquia? Ou subserviência secular aos ingleses? Mais prosaicamente: não passas de um tretas, de um vendido...
Resta saber se os alunos da escola primária em Inglaterra, também tem a lingua portuguesa , como lingua obrigatória, já que segundo os nossos governantes todos fazemos parte da cee.
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