By Rachel de Queiroz
About the writer (from Goodreads):
Raquel de Queiroz (November 17, 1910 – November four, 2003) used to be a Brazilian writer and journalist.
Rachel was once born on terrorist organization 1910 in Fortaleza, capital of the northeastern country of Ceará. in the course of her formative years, her relatives spent a few years in Rio de Janeiro and Belém earlier than relocating again to Fortaleza.
She all started her profession in journalism in 1927 below the pen identify "Rita de Queiroz". She entered nationwide highlight with the unforeseen luck of her debut novel O Quinze in 1930. She released different 3 novels sooner than relocating to Rio, in 1939. She was once additionally well known for her cronicas, brief topical newspaper pieces.
In 1964 she turned Brazil's consultant to the UN and in 1977 she grew to become the 1st girl author to go into the Academia Brasileira de Letras. She gained the Camões Prize (1993) and the Prêmio Jabuti.
She died of center assault in her condo in Leblon, Rio de Janeiro on four November 2003, approximately weeks prior to her 93rd birthday.
Sobre o livro:
Rachel de Queiroz se consagrou como um dos grandes nomes na narrativa longa brasileira a partir da publicação do romance O Quinze, em 1930. A antologia de textos curtos A casa do Morro Branco, no entanto, vem provar que a autora também dominava perfeitamente a arte dos contos e crônicas. São 14 histórias na qual a autora expõe todas as características que marcaram obras renomadas como João Miguel, Caminho de pedras, As três Marias e Memorial de Maria Moura: análises literárias da existência humana, em seus aspectos políticos e pessoais. É um relançamento que dá continuidade ao resgate pela Editora José Olympio da obra de Rachel e de outros autores.
“Só conheço o lugar de vista. Como disse, tem um morro; não um grande morro alto, desses que mais parecem montanhas de verdade – e, pensando bem, são realmente montanhas”, escreve a autora na crônica que dá nome ao livro. “O de lá period antes uma colina, ou isso que nós no Nordeste chamamos de ‘alto’, ou ‘cabeço’.
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Extra info for A Casa do Morro Branco
The chambermaid has brought the Mummy a sleeping powder. He cannot fall to sleep because of the coffee he was given during The Chase and Sanborn Hour. He had never tasted coffee before and did not like it. It tasted like wormwood, he thought, like bitter aloe. “Your face isn’t so bad,” she says, looking at him with an expression he recalls having seen, thousands of years before, in the eyes of a serving girl in the house of Pharaoh. Her name he cannot remember, but her face was lovely—of this he is sure.
Daphne returned from the engine room, trembling. ” the doctor cried. ” I poured out a tumbler of the good Bombay, then helped Daphne into a chair. The cleats of the doctor’s shoes could be heard tapping on the galley floor, the hanging pots and ladles chiming companionably. We were alone in the galley— Daphne, the doctor, and I—the cook and his gang of kitchen roughs having gone to the casino to squander their week’s pay. The gin proved itself sovereign against hysteria. ) Having regained her composure, Daphne was now dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.
I ask, showing Peggy a photograph of Diana the ship’s photographer made of her the night we met. She is wearing an enormous hat. Her face hides in its shadow. “I can’t make out the face. Anyway, I don’t think so,” she says, handing me back the photograph. ” “Yes, very pretty”; although my heart nearly stops as I realize I have only an imperfect recollection of Diana’s face. It is as if a reflection rocking on water were suddenly troubled by a pebble. She must be, I tell myself. Shaking my head to dispel an anxiety that has laid its hand upon my soul, I inquire after the barber, who is nowhere to be seen.