A stroll in the neighbourhood reveals some literary intrigue
The days in Lisbon are so perfectly bright blue and chilly at the moment, that I’ve been taking myself all week long on sunny daily walks to escape what could be termed work brain. This is a state of frazzled that only generally comes on after too many hours spent hunched at the desk. That said, while I’m here I’ll often work at the one of my favourite historic libraries, mostly when there’s no google meets or zoomathons to disturb the peace. The one I like best is quaint and beautifully wooden, complete with little ladders and that familiar old book smell, plus a whole range of dusty volumes from all genres and decades. I flicked through a particularly fun one yesterday about advertising in the 1970s, which was most definitely published in the 70s and full of retro mustached Portuguese men smoking and posing next to cars. Equally enlightening is the Palácio Galveias, which is ornately tiled, has a huge sunlit balcony and is quite frankly, a delight to work in. Otherwise I’m at the home office and get acute cabin fever by lunch time, whereupon I’ll escape and walk for an entire sun drenched blissful hour.
Luckily I’ve come across some really interesting murals lately on these jaunts, which I naturally got curious about. I’m not actually cool enough right now to be based in Graça, which is popular, but close enough (and on the peripheral which is pleasingly a bit more rough around the edges and quirky). At Rua Natália Correia the other day, coming back with a bag of heavy shopping during peak retired, unemployed or remote worker shopping hours- aka 1pm ish, I spotted some gems. Incidentally, I also rather enjoy going to the supermarket at this hour because the shop is full of loud Portuguese grannies bundling around and gossiping, which adds a bit of free entertainment value.
I hadn’t heard of Correia (the street’s namesake), to be honest, before I looked into the multiple artworks housed on the walls. In the process I discovered a new female literary heroine to fangirl. Which, by the by, goes to show the important role of this kind of urban art can play in evoking a neighborhood’s history and roots. The first portrait is a symbol of the pivotal 1974 Carnation Revolution, where a bold young restaurant worker called Celeste Caeiro offered carnations on the streets as people celebrated the end of a dictatorship, which soldiers posited into their guns and onto tanks. This struck me as a poignant reminder given this week’s events in Syria. The end of a long and divisive rulership; in Portugal’s version however, almost no shots were fired. This mural was done by the artist Obey Giant and is entitled ‘Peace Guard.’ I thought it was striking.
The Passerio Literario da Graça urban art project, it turns out, is an initiative aimed at paying tribute to four female Portuguese literary figures in Graça- Natália Correia, Angelina Vidal, Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen and Florbela Espanca. Of course I was intrigued to know more about all four, but especially Correia, to whom a plaque is erected and the below composition was painted by Mafalda M. Gonçalves, in her signature style- smoking and exuding louche literary charisma.
It turns out that Correia published what was considered a pretty racy book in 1965 that landed her with a three year suspended prison sentence. Antologia de poesia portuguesa erótica e satírica, is now seen an key part of Portuguese literary and political history, but in Correia’s own words caused ‘‘a seismic shock’’ in a Portugal under the Salazar dictatorship. It was a spicy publication given Correia’s already established presence as a critic of the Estado Novo regime and a political activist.
The book was a compiled anthology of works by most of the major figures in Portuguese poetry, but focused primarily on the far more punchy, but also banned, erotic and satirical genre. As much as it may have seemed like a breath of fresh air under the stultifying climate of censorship at the time, given her already dodgy profile in the eyes of PIDE (Portuguese state police), Correia was arrested.
The censor was reported as saying the book was being barred due to its “pornographic character” and “lack of scruples”. Which shows just how subversive Correia intended to be within a highly patriarchal system. The report also mentioned her as having “Sartrean tendencies” in the intro to Antologia – which was a reference to the fact that Sartre was also on their bad list of inappropriate (and lets face it, therefore all the more alluring) reads. The highest irony however, is that it also called her book an ‘“abuse of freedom of the press”.
Nátalia Correia with (left-right) Cruzeiro Seixas (illustrator of the book), Mário Henrique Leiria (Poet) and Mário Cesariny (Poet and Artist)
Luckily for Correia and Portuguese society at large, however, Fernando Ribeiro de Mello, her publisher, and the bookseller Luis Alves Dias, had already published a pirate edition of the Antologia (presented as a Brazilian import and therefore exempt from censorship) long before the trial, and sold an impressive 3000 copies. I can only imagine how deliciously illicit it must have seemed to nab one of the 3000 copies. Which also rendered PIDE’s bullying plans to quash the book as a failed attempt.
I love this story, not just because it conjures up the hauntingly authoritarian atmosphere of the time in Portugal, but also because it flags up what a cool revolutionary sort of figure Correia was. Although the regime fell in 1974 and Portugal transitioned to democracy and more freedom, the Antologia de poesia portuguesa erótica e satírica was sadly not officially republished until 1999, a whole six years after Natália Correia’s death.
A few other neighborhood murals popped out and I got a bit snap happy so you’ll have to forgive my enthusiasm. The below is by Pichi and Avo- a Spanish duo that combine classical art and the rebellious style of graffiti at Calcada de Santa Apolonia.
That’s my Lisbon update du jour. I’ve been reading and watching a few juicy books, bits and pieces though so likely will pop back in on Sunday when I can diffuse more musings here on a page. Boa noite!
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