Hoje, no blog do Paris Review, a escritora americana Phoebe Connely fala de uma história de amor. Eu que já gosto pouco, deixo aqui o início...
"F. and I were introduced by a mutual friend while I was on a visit to L.A. I was living in D.C., newly single and working at a political magazine. I had given myself a firm dating rule: no journalists. In a sleepy company town, where ethics precluded romantic liaisons with my sources, it had begun to feel as if I’d doomed myself to celibacy. F. was a writer who’d just finished his first film and was passing time as a listings editor. He was my best friend’s occasional tennis partner. “You’ll love him,” she promised, sending him a text as I shoved my bag in the backseat of her car at LAX. “I’ll have him meet us for drinks at this outdoor German place.” We hit it off instantly.
It started with a challenge. I told him that first night that I’d found Donald Antrim’s The Verificationist overly self-conscious, so he slid The Hundred Brothers into my carry-on for the red-eye back east. Antrim’s endlessly multiplying brothers and claustrophobic prose were right at home in the repetitious concourses of LAX. My perfume leaked in my suitcase during the flight, but I returned his copy anyway, with a handwritten note, reeking of the nape of my neck.
We spent the next two years courting each other with words—our own, but also those of any writer we thought might impress. We certainly weren’t the first to go this route. But like every romance, and every reading list, it felt like our own. The question “What are you reading?” became a convenient excuse to chat when we spotted each other online, to send links, to write long, complicated letters in which the subtext was always desire."
Um comentário:
Pen friends, ligados por livros. me faz lembrar uma personagem delicada do livro "O senhor embaixador", de Erico Verissimo. O que ligava os dois personagens eram haicais. só isso. Ela, uma Madame Butterfly em botão, achou que era mais do que isso. Não era.
Me faz lembrar também "Nunca te vi, sempre te amei", sobre dois amantes de livros que acabam se encontrando. E "A sociedade literaria e a torta de casca de batatas". O pen friend livresco era gay, a mocinha acaba ficando com o bronco fortão e gostosão. Melhor para ela.
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