a very sporty young man who wore
jeans and chewed gum. He said he would read the whole thing and that I should come back in a
week. I went back a week later and the literary editor said: You obviously haven’t read
any American minimalism, I’m sorry, but you really should have read some American
minimalists. I didn’t want to admit defeat and so I went to another publisher. There I
met a very elegant lady, who wore a scarf round her neck, and she too asked me to come back in
a week and so I did. There’s too much plot in your stories, the elegant lady told me,
you obviously haven’t read any avant-garde writers, the avant-garde did away with plot
completely, creating plots is positively retrograde now. I still didn’t want to admit
defeat and so I went to a third publisher. There I met a very serious gentleman who smoked a
pipe, he asked me to come back in a week and so I did. You have absolutely no sense of
pragmatism, this very serious gentleman told me, your reality is completely fragmented, what
you need is a psychiatrist. I left him and started wandering about the city. My practice had
closed down, no one went there any more, I was sad and penniless, but even though I was sad, I
still had an immense desire to tell my stories to people, and so I started walking and I
thought: If I have all these stories to tell, maybe there are people who’d like to hear
them, it’s a big city, and so I started wandering the city and telling stories, and now
that’s how I earn my living.
The Seller of Stories lowered his arm and held out a hand to me as if he were offering me
something. I give you tonight’s moon, he said, and I give you whatever story you feel
like hearing, I know you want to hear a story. Yes, I would like to hear a story now, I said,
I really would, but it can’t be a very long one, I’m meeting someone in a little
while on the Cais de Alcantara and I wouldn’t want to be late. No problem, said the
Seller of Stories, all you have to do is choose the kind of story you’d like to hear
tonight. Look, I said, could I just ask you for a bit of information first?, I’d like to
invite this person I’m meeting to supper, you must know the city well, perhaps you could
tell me the name of a reasonable restaurant near the Cais do Alcântara. There is one,
said the Seller of Stories, right opposite the quay, it used to be a station or something, but
now it’s a kind of social club, it’s got a restaurant, a bar, a disco and who
knows what else, it’s very trendy, I think it’s what’s called postmodern.
Post-modern?, I said, post-modern in what sense? I’m not sure I could explain, said the
Seller of Stories, I mean that it’s been done up in lots of different styles, for
example, the restaurant is full of mirrors and the food they serve is sort of unclassifiable,
I mean, it’s a place that broke with tradition by embracing tradition, you could
describe it as a compilation of several different styles, that’s what I would call
post-modern. It sounds like the ideal place for my guest, I said, and then I asked: Is it
expensive?, it’s just that I haven’t got much money on me and I’d also like
to hear one of your stories, but I don’t know if I can afford it. It isn’t
expensive, said the Seller of Stories, as long as you don’t order smoked swordfish or
oysters, because it’s a fairly up-scale restaurant and you can get things like that
there, but it won’t be expensive and, besides, my stories are cheap, since it’s
late and given your situation, I can offer you a special price, anyway my stories are all
different prices, depending on the genre. So what stories have you got to tell me tonight?, I
asked. Well, he said, I’ve got a rather sentimental one that might bring you comfort on
a night such as this. I don’t want anything sentimental, I said, my whole day has been
extremely sentimental and I’m up to
jeans and chewed gum. He said he would read the whole thing and that I should come back in a
week. I went back a week later and the literary editor said: You obviously haven’t read
any American minimalism, I’m sorry, but you really should have read some American
minimalists. I didn’t want to admit defeat and so I went to another publisher. There I
met a very elegant lady, who wore a scarf round her neck, and she too asked me to come back in
a week and so I did. There’s too much plot in your stories, the elegant lady told me,
you obviously haven’t read any avant-garde writers, the avant-garde did away with plot
completely, creating plots is positively retrograde now. I still didn’t want to admit
defeat and so I went to a third publisher. There I met a very serious gentleman who smoked a
pipe, he asked me to come back in a week and so I did. You have absolutely no sense of
pragmatism, this very serious gentleman told me, your reality is completely fragmented, what
you need is a psychiatrist. I left him and started wandering about the city. My practice had
closed down, no one went there any more, I was sad and penniless, but even though I was sad, I
still had an immense desire to tell my stories to people, and so I started walking and I
thought: If I have all these stories to tell, maybe there are people who’d like to hear
them, it’s a big city, and so I started wandering the city and telling stories, and now
that’s how I earn my living.
The Seller of Stories lowered his arm and held out a hand to me as if he were offering me
something. I give you tonight’s moon, he said, and I give you whatever story you feel
like hearing, I know you want to hear a story. Yes, I would like to hear a story now, I said,
I really would, but it can’t be a very long one, I’m meeting someone in a little
while on the Cais de Alcantara and I wouldn’t want to be late. No problem, said the
Seller of Stories, all you have to do is choose the kind of story you’d like to hear
tonight. Look, I said, could I just ask you for a bit of information first?, I’d like to
invite this person I’m meeting to supper, you must know the city well, perhaps you could
tell me the name of a reasonable restaurant near the Cais do Alcântara. There is one,
said the Seller of Stories, right opposite the quay, it used to be a station or something, but
now it’s a kind of social club, it’s got a restaurant, a bar, a disco and who
knows what else, it’s very trendy, I think it’s what’s called postmodern.
Post-modern?, I said, post-modern in what sense? I’m not sure I could explain, said the
Seller of Stories, I mean that it’s been done up in lots of different styles, for
example, the restaurant is full of mirrors and the food they serve is sort of unclassifiable,
I mean, it’s a place that broke with tradition by embracing tradition, you could
describe it as a compilation of several different styles, that’s what I would call
post-modern. It sounds like the ideal place for my guest, I said, and then I asked: Is it
expensive?, it’s just that I haven’t got much money on me and I’d also like
to hear one of your stories, but I don’t know if I can afford it. It isn’t
expensive, said the Seller of Stories, as long as you don’t order smoked swordfish or
oysters, because it’s a fairly up-scale restaurant and you can get things like that
there, but it won’t be expensive and, besides, my stories are cheap, since it’s
late and given your situation, I can offer you a special price, anyway my stories are all
different prices, depending on the genre. So what stories have you got to tell me tonight?, I
asked. Well, he said, I’ve got a rather sentimental one that might bring you comfort on
a night such as this. I don’t want anything sentimental, I said, my whole day has been
extremely sentimental and I’m up to
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