A convite da Porto Editora, o editor da Revista Intro Paulo Ribeiro da Silva entrevistou via email o escritor e argumentista Jean-Baptiste Andrea, autor do livro Velar Por Ela (primeiras páginas disponíveisAQUI), recém editado em Portugal, que lhe valeu prestigiado Prix Goncourt 2023. Escolhemos o inglês para a entrevista, língua franca e colocar entrevistador e entrevistado em igualdade de circunstâncias linguísticas, pelo que a reproduzimos na versão original.
Velar Por Ela é uma história de crescimento (bildungsroman, para usar o palavrão certo) da personagem principal – desde o nascimento à morte de Michealangelo Vitaliani (conhecido por Mimo) – no contexto conturbada Itália da primeira metade do século XX, detalhando a sua luta por um lugar ao sol, com todos os compromissos e combates, e a sua relação com a poderosa família Orsini, em especial com a magnética Viola Orsini (que muda a vida de ambos), com a arte da escultura e as forças políticas e religiosas da época, como a Igreja e a Santa Sé, a ditadura de Mussolini e os seus pares no conturbado, elitista e competitivo mundo artístico. Uma leitura cativante, enganadoramente leve, com uma escrita rigorosa e espaço para as personagens serem múltiplas e imprevisíveis, vítimas do acaso e dos ímpetos, como todos nós comuns mortais.
Paulo Ribeiro da Silva (PRS): Writing is your job. What does it take to keep the flame burning alongside with routines? And how do you keep the creative impetus after a Goncourt?
Jean-Baptiste Andrea (JBA): I’d love to answer the question, but since it’s my first Goncourt, it’s hard to answer! All I can say is that I’ve always written, always felt the need to tell stories. There’s also a time for writing, and a time for silence. I have absolutely no control over it. Silence is necessary, and I never know how long it’s going to last.
PRS: Sculpture and Italy: an almost inevitable association. What triggered the creation of Michelangeli Vitaliani in a century like the 20th, with all its wars and groundbreaking changes? I ask this because Mimo looks, acts and sounds like a character from another time (I mean it as a huge compliment), and at the same time timeless.
JBA: Thank you. A lot of readers mentioned that point, which I was not really conscious of. Mimo, for me, is a product of that era, which I chose because of the political context: the political tyranny mirrors the various forms of personal, intimate tyrannies Viola and Mimo fight. Then I realized that indeed, the same story would have worked 300 years before. I do think setting it in the 20th century was important, because it still feels “contemporary”.
PRS: In an interview you stated that the idea for the book came from finding light in times of darkness, both in Mimo and Viola. Where did that come from?
JBA: It’s just who I am, the way I try to see the world.
PRS: How did you prepare for such a temporally comprehensive novel?
JBA: I spent 10 months building up the story, trying to find the best way to reach its final chapter, bearing in mind the final chapter is the original idea for the book. I think I gave up two or three times during that phase because I felt I would never make it. It was more ambitious than anything I’d done before.
PRS: Does the dicotomy popularity/depth in literature worry you? Are they reconcilable or is there always going to be a gap? Like in high culture and low culture. Your book seems to prove there is hope for everyone and every literary taste.
JBA: I do not see, feel or acknowledge that dichotomy, in any form of art. All the great artworks that have survived are or have become popular. That dichotomy only exists in the minds of a few snobs, for various reasons I don’t want to get into, otherwise I’m going to alienate half of the Parisian literary scene. As writers, who should be deep and shallow, fun and sad, entertaining and challenging. No dichotomy.
PRS: Italian fascism lasted for more than 20 years. All of the characters in your book use it for their advantage, which shows you (thankfully) resisted the temptation of rewarding idealism. Is silence (and some money) the secret formula for a lasting repressive regime?
JBA: Absolutely. A lot of these regimes survive through acceptance or resignation.
PRS: Francesco Orsini is a very interesting character, always ahead of everyone else. His most revealing quote is about his faith: “I believe in Church (…) Unlike tyrants and governments, the Church never ends.” He understands and owns real power. And is utterly lonely. Is real power by definition hidden? There are other examples: Viola´s beauty, strength and intellect, Mimo´s artistic talent… Is this one of the main threads of your book?
JBA: Thanks, I particularly love Francesco. I would very broadly (and maybe controversially) say that high intelligence, the ability to see hidden things, makes one lonely. “Lonely” doesn’t mean you spend your life alone, it means there are things you can’t share, or in art’s case, you can only share through art. That loneliness could be a good thing, or it could crush someone. A lot of tyrants are actually very intelligent.
PRS: Your first book was refused 14 times. What kept you going?
JBA: First of all, writing is what I’ve always done. I never had another job. So I learnt early on that rejection is part of the process. It’s normal. Those 14 refusals happened within the first three months, and I remember thinking “somebody will understand this book”. A month later, I found a publisher. So it’s not like it lasted 10 years.
PRS: The formal freedom of the novel is the opposite of the constrictions of the movie industry you worked with for 20 years. Do you regret the time before becoming a writer or was it a necessary route to this sort of freedom?
JBA: I don’t regret it at all. It was sometimes great, sometimes hard, but in any case, very formative. I learnt a lot. I often compare my years in the film industry to having been in the Foreign Legion. Once you’re done, you’re pretty much ready for everything.
PRS: Mimo is always aware of its surroundings in spite of the slavery “Uncle” Albert subjects him to. The arrival to Italy for example: the shock with the scenery (he later identifies with Futurism), the fall descending from the train, arms open and facing down, in the shape of a cross (which symbolizes the x marking the spot but also the cross on top of a tomb). Is creative work the right answer in face of darkness and ignorance? What does art mean to you today?
JBA: Art is absolute freedom. It’s the only space in society where you can be fully yourself. It’s also the only way to fight darkness. I’m not saying this in a naïve way. One great work is not going to change the world tomorrow. But a hundred will change it in a hundred years. Art is civilization, it’s mankind growing up.
PRS: “There is no Mimo Vitaliani without Viola Orsini. But there is Viola Orsini, without anyone else.” A great sentence, but, in the end, is it the truth? Is she that independent? There is a co-dependency between Mimo and Viola until the end…
JBA: Thanks for spotting this line, which is very dear to me. Good question. I think they are both co-dependent. Nonetheless, the line is true. I believe Viola would have managed to do something with her life without Mimo. It’s just best that she does it with him. The reverse is not true. Without Viola, no Mimo. Or rather, Mimo would not have revealed who he really is.
PRS: Without revealing the beautiful conclusion of the novel: is this intentionally a feminist novel?
JBA: It is a feminist novel, in that it celebrates a great, powerful, brilliant woman. At the same time, I don’t like the word “feminist”, it shouldn’t exist. In a society where men and women would be equal, the word would disappear. It’s just the story of two great human beings, and one of them happens to be a woman.
PRS: The way Vitaliani makes the Pietá about him made me think about Art: is Art an elaborate way for the author to hide in plain sight, in a way that can only be traced by “looking again”?
JBA: Absolutely. A good writer only ever writes about himself or herself, or rather, about his or her vision of the world. As a result, you might create a work of pure fiction and then realize you’re in every page.
PRS: Sacred Art: was it a sophisticated way of submission, to avoid a direct connection of the Artist with the Divine? The perfect metaphor for that is the Vitaliani´s Pietá forever hidden from the public eye in that italian monastery.
JBA: Art is the Divine, Art is Connection. Whether it’s hidden or not doesn’t matter. In any great work, the artist has connected with something bigger than him, whatever that is. Great art is never submission, it’s elevation.
PRS: One of the best quotes in the book is Mimo´s speech in the Royal Academy of Italy: “when we think we have found what we were looking for, we realize that that did not happen, that the thing is still in front of us, elusive.” (324) What do you aim to find with your writing? Have you found it yet? What is missing?
JBA: I don’t know. Is anything missing? Perfection, maybe? We’re all trying to be better, to go further, to put on foot in front of the other without retracing our steps back. Once I’ve done something, I want to move on. It could be mystical, or a simple desire to keep moving.
PRS: An interesting aspect of your book is family dynamics, especially in the Orsini clan. A dinner is never just a dinner, Mimo keeps saying. Your screenwriting background is in full display here but there is also a dramatic flair, like a group of small plays dispersed within the book. It reminded me of Uncle Vanya for example, with Viola as the uncle, the antagonist the pushes the family forward even in absentia. But also, some italian comedy of errors, blood always boiling, loud speeches. Was this intentional or is my interpretation too farfetched?
JBA: I’m very flattered by the comparison. The Tchekhov connection would be unconscious. But like any writer, I try to breath life into my stories. And that life is a reflection of who I am, constantly fighting anxiety, anger, and at the same time looking for joy everywhere. This makes for good dinners in my family.
PRS: Another beautiful quote is that of Mimo explaining to Metti what sculpture is (página 370 da edição portuguesa). When I read it, I forgot it was about sculpture and took it as concerning literature instead. Is good writing a cleansing of the individual towards the universal?
JBA: It was indeed about literature too, and about art in general. Going from the individual to the universal is the most basic requirement for a novel. Even if you write a book about your own life, the reader has to feel like it could be his or hers. But mainly, art is a gesture. This gesture has to be refined, purified, reduced to its smallest and most effective expression. This is particularly obvious in the late works of Matisse for example. Say more, with less.
PRS: Times of crisis motivate your creativity or tend to block it? Are you afraid of the future, 80 years after D Day?
JBA: They would tend to block it.
The future is big. So am I afraid? I don’t know. There could be bad things, but we’ll learn from them and will get better.
Os nossos agradecimentos à Porto Editora e ao autor pela disponibilidade e simpatia.
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