dando início

com Winesburg, Ohio de Sherwood Anderson que passou para todos os livros de escola. não sei se dito que estas pequenas histórias do midwest surgiram à custa do abandono desse mesmo pequeno midwest, mulher, emprego respeitoso e três filhos -pequenos, depois de quatro dias wondering in the woods.



na p.17 do livro New essays on Winesburg, Ohio de John William Crowley

e ainda




Por agora, A Man of Ideas, um dos contos.

A Man of Ideas
Sherwood Anderson

"HE lived with his mother, a grey, silent woman with a peculiar ashy complexion. The house in which they lived stood in a little grove of trees beyond where the main street of Winesburg crossed Wine Creek. His name was Joe Welling, and his father had been a man of some dignity in the community, a lawyer, and a member of the state legislature at Columbus. Joe himself was small of body and in his character unlike anyone else in town. He was like a tiny little volcano that lies silent for days and then suddenly spouts fire. No, he wasn’t like that—he was like a man who is subject to fits, one who walks among his fellow men inspiring fear because a fit may come upon him suddenly and blow him away into a strange uncanny physical state in which his eyes roll and his legs and arms jerk. He was like that, only that the visitation that descended upon Joe Welling was a mental and not a physical thing. He was beset by ideas and in the throes of one of his ideas was uncontrollable. Words rolled and tumbled from his mouth. A peculiar smile came upon his lips. The edges of his teeth that were tipped with gold glistened in the light. Pouncing upon a bystander he began to talk. For the bystander there was no escape. The excited man breathed into his face, peered into his eyes, pounded upon his chest with a shaking forefinger, demanded, compelled attention." ..

o resto, aqui.
que me fez lembrar Kate Chopin e o seu Desirée's Baby, região diferente, truque final semelhante. se bem que movimentos (novamente) opostos. uma pela integração, ele pela libertação.