[In the following essay, Vieira comments on the short narratives by Jorge Amado.]

Overshadowed by the success of such bawdy, sweeping, lyrical, and socially-minded novels as Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon (1958), Shepherds of the Night (1964), Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands (1966), and Tereza Batista Home from the Wars (1972), Jorge Amado's short fiction has understandably received little attention from readers and critics. Except for the highly acclaimed short story/novella, A Morte e a Morte de Quincas Berro D'Água, 1959 (The Two Deaths of Quincas Wateryell) and the fable, O Gato Malhado e a Andorinha Sinhá (The Swallow and the Tom Cat: A Love Story) first composed in 1948 but published in 1979, there has been scant commentary on the handful of Amado's short narratives which have been sporadically appearing since 1937 in literary magazines and short story collections. Forgotten in limited editions and issues that have not received wide readership, three out of six stories have been translated into English while only one of these has appeared in German, French and Spanish translations.

Paulo Tavares in his bio-bibliographical study, O Baiano Jorge Amado e Sua Obra¹ catalogues only three works as short stories. To these we may add “The Miracle of the Birds” which appeared in Harper's, April, 1982 as well as Berro D'Água and the fable The Swallow and the Tom Cat. While we can safely attest to at least six narratives under the rubric of short fiction, our purpose here is not to present Jorge Amado as a short story writer, but rather as an author/narrator whose craft, aesthetics and literary vision, deftly developed in the novel, are, as well, notably evident in the few short narratives that have appeared in published form. Therefore, since three of these narratives have been somewhat neglected, two having never been translated, it is our intent, on the one hand, to call attention to their existence, and on the other, to consider these stories as workable, capsulized sources for insights into Amado's thematic and narrative scheme.

By addressing Amado's overall aesthetics from the perspective of certain facets of the short story, excluding, naturally, such structural principles as length, we believe that these narratives can be viewed as artistic “sketches” or examples that parallel literary techniques apparent in the longer works. The practice of examining short story narratives to exemplify elements in the novel is adopted by David William Foster with his analysis of Latin American fiction in Studies in the Contemporary Spanish-American Short Story (Columbia: U. of Missouri Press, 1979).

For our discussion of the short story, Charles E. May provides a theoretical frame of reference that will serve and justify our purpose in using elements within the short story to underscore key aspects of Amado's novels. May defines the short story as “… primarily a literary mode that embodies and recapitulates mythic perception itself.”² He goes on to clarify this perception as one centered around “emotion, intuition, and fleeting perceptions” and quotes Ernst Cassirer's theory of “intensive compression” and the “focussing of all forces on a single point” (similar to Poe's single effect) as the “prerequisite for all mythical thinking and mythical formulation.”³ In fact, for Amado's short stories, it is this issue of the single point as myth—that is the evocation and depiction of the grand and legendary values, beliefs and deeds of Brazil's povo (people)—that remind the reader of the mythical themes and images which consistently reappear in extensive and elaborate distribution throughout Amado's novels. These single points emerge as myths because they invariably center upon time-honored human values that immortalize Amado's heroic characters. If we consider Northrop Frye's view of myth as an “art of implicit metaphorical identity,”⁴ we can further appreciate Amado's popular appeal and in particular, his narrative focus with its strong allegiance to and identity with Brazil's popular literature, its folk heroes, tales, and ideology.

Stemming from Brazil's oral tradition of folk literature as it appears today in the folhetos (songbooks) and baladas of the literatura de cordel of Brazil's Northeast, these cultural myths and their value system form the very ideological basis of an Amado story, novella or novel. Moreover, the exposition of these values and themes are relentlessly operating upon a dialectical, binary axis which recalls Amado's much-alluded-to, albeit elastic, Marxist aesthetics that earlier labeled him one of Brazil's notable proponents of Marxism, both as a public figure and as a novelist.⁵ Essentially, this dialectical framework sets the stage for a Marxian perspective in which the implication for change or conversion surfaces via the dynamic conflict of opposing forces—for example, Amado's frequent depiction of the high values of the proletariat or underdog vs. the false ones of the bourgeoisie or the oppressors. Interestingly, this dialectic is also a formal element inherent in the basic structure of the poetics in the literatura de cordel. According to Candace Slater, this antinomy is frequently embodied in opposing behavioral traits such as those of firmeza (steadfastness) and falsidade (falsity or deception) which translate into opposing forces of good and evil manifested invariably by characters of the lower and upper classes respectively.⁶ This seemingly simple, antithetical, dualistic formula is however expressed by complex, sometimes ambiguous, figures and scenes that project a multi-dimensional profile, but which nonetheless are structurally outlined into shades of good and evil—forces that reveal an intrinsic Manichaeistic nature, characteristic of popular culture and art forms such as those found in Brazil. These, in turn, unceasingly posit the less privileged vis-a-vis the ruling classes, or in political terms, place the oppressed Left against the oppressive Right.

Along these lines, we may take a cue from Fredric Jameson in his study, The Political Unconscious, which presents the notion of contradiction as central to any Marxist cultural analysis.⁷ Jameson refers to Claude Lévi-Strauss' work as the model for the interpretation of myth and aesthetic structure, one that harbors a basic analytical or interpretive principle wherein “… the individual narrative, or the individual formal structure, is to be grasped as the imaginary resolution of a real contradiction.”⁸ As such, it follows that “… the production of aesthetic or narrative form is to be seen as an ideological act in its own right, with the function of inventing imaginary or formal ‘solutions’ to unresolvable social contradictions.”⁹ Considering Daphne Patai's view of Jorge Amado's work as “Oscillating between socio-political criticism and romantic lyricism …,”¹⁰ we can further appreciate Jameson's reference to the association of Marxism and romance, and especially, to his allusion to Northrop Frye's paradigm of storytelling and narrative:

On this view, the oral tales of tribal society, the fairy tales that are the irrepressible voice and expression of the underclasses of the great systems of domination, adventure stories and melodrama, and the popular or mass culture of our own time are all syllables and broken fragments of some single immense story.¹¹

With these considerations in mind, we may entertain the ultimate universal ramifications of Jorge Amado's Human Comedy with its implicit ethical and dialectical basis, a reason for the reader's magnetic identification with these stories and their dynamic interpretation of popular culture; in particular, the expression of values, virtues and conflicts of the economically and socially oppressed in Brazil and the world at large.

To draw upon another view to clarify our own theoretical presentation of Amado's stance and dialectical approach, we offer Sergei Eisentein's “Dialectical Approach to Film Form” in which he refers to conflict “… as the fundamental principle for the existence of every art-work and every art-form.”¹² Intrinsic to this is the concept of Being as a constant evolution from the interaction of two contradictory opposites and the concept of Synthesis arising from the classic opposition between thesis and antithesis.¹³ In other words, we view Amado's Weltanschauung as pivoting upon this fundamental binary structure, i.e., an implicit ideological thematics of contradictory forces. Thus, we believe that this formal treatment is crucial to understanding Amado's art, that is, his integration of form into content, and furthermore, his role as a committed professional writer of the popular and the universal. Using this focus with the short stories, we will be able to address the wide, evolutionary spectrum of his artistic expression from his earlier proletariat novels of social realism to his “realismo maravilhoso” (magical realism). The latter naturally calls to mind a similar world of illusion, fantasy and reality found in Gabriel Garcia Marquez—a world which ultimately compels the reader to examine the responsibility for the socio-economic and political turmoil rampant in present-day Latin American societies.

For the rest of our discussion we will be focussing mainly upon two of the three lesser-known stories: “História do Carnaval” (A Carnaval Story), 1937 and “De Como o Mulato Prociúncula Descarregou Seu Defunto” (How the Mulatto Porciúncula Got the Corpse Off His Back), 1959. The third story, “As Mortes e o Triunfo de Rosalinda” (The Deaths and the Victory of Rosalinda), 1965, will be addressed briefly for its basic form and theme of socio-political conflict. These stories serve our purpose well for they embody the formal considerations we have previously outlined and also deal with a variety of subjects and techniques that will illustrate Amado's dialectical approach as well as his gallery of popular tales, heroes and myths.

As a member of the “generation of 1930,” the Brazilian Regionalists, who espoused socialist esthetic theories that parallel such works as Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, Jorge Amado published novels throughout the thirties which are representative of the proletarian and socialist fervor of the times. Appropriately, his first known short story, “História do Carnaval,”¹⁴ emerges from that period as a simple but incisive tale of class conflict and consciousness from the point of view of a poor girl who has the opportunity to rise above her social station via her possible marriage to a young lawyer who, not surprisingly, maintains very conventional views of women and social behavior. Maria dos Reis' dilemma or conflict rests with her wanting to participate in the free-spirited festivities of Carnaval, specifically as a member of the joyous float, the “Felizes Borboletas” (Happy Butterflies) which is destined to win first prize. However, her namorado, (boyfriend) whom she met during the previous Carnaval, when she performed as an outstanding “borboleta,” is now decidedly against her participation since their engagement is soon to be announced. In fact, he threatens to end their relationship if she goes against his wishes.

Told primarily from Maria's angle of vision, the third person narration is also related in a colloquial style suggestive of Maria's own voice as well as that of an oral narrator. This popular narrator, however, lends some perceptive distance to Maria's situation by subtle shifts in the point of view within dialogue and interior monologue. In so doing, the narrative conveys an oral quality in tune with Amado's chronicle-like and ironic storyteller style flagrantly apparent in his later fiction. However, for our purposes, the revealing and principal quality of this story lies within Amado's structural and ideological framework of juxtaposing, on the one hand, Maria's “alegria,” her happiness and free-spirited nature, and her sense of freedom within the Carnaval metaphor, along with her happy friends (the Cordeiro sisters), especially the simpática Antonieta; and, on the other, the restrictive forces of her impending marriage, her solemn boyfriend Teodoro, and her future higher-class position. While Maria's mother and aunt appeal to Maria's common sense on such moral grounds as social propriety as well as the practical one of securing a husband, Maria waivers and momentarily skirts the real issue. However, the heart of the matter is unabashedly articulated by her frank girlfriend, Antonieta, as she confronts Maria's boyfriend:

Então, seu Teodoro, não quer deixar a dos Reis sair na nossa prancha, hein? Só porque é prancha de gente pobre e a futura esposa de um advogado não pode sair misturada com as filhas de um escriturário do correio, não é? Se fosse a prancha dos Andrades, ela podia, não é?¹⁵ (So, Suh Teodoro, you don't want to let Maria go out on our float, huh? Just because it's a poor man's float and the future wife of a lawyer cannot go out and mix with the daughters of a mail clerk, isn't that so? If it were the float belonging to the Andrades, she'd be able to, right?)

Antonieta's direct accusations speak honestly to a class issue that instead has been clouded by Maria's family in terms of morality, decency and propriety. The family's implication that lower class girls are “bad” and “immoral” eventually forces Maria to compromise herself and her freedom even though her thoughts about her boyfriend's “brutishness” (bruto, bruto, bruto) tell her otherwise. Her final decision to follow the rules of convention projects a picture which suggests her future existence as a submissive, repressed wife. After the “borboletas” win all the Carnaval prizes, the narrative shifts to Antonieta's point of view and ends with this final image of Maria dos Reis as the festive float and its metaphorical implication of happiness pass her by: “Antonieta descobriu Maria dos Reis que ia pelo braço do noivo, um lança-perfume na mão, atrás a mãe e a tia, solenes os quatro, marchando pelo Carnaval com passos medidos e rostos sérios.”¹⁶ (Antonieta saw Mary of Kings clutching to her fiance's arm, a Carnaval favor in hand; in back, her mother and aunt, the four of them solemn, marching to the Carnaval beat with measured steps and serious faces.)

Amado's juxtaposition of freedom and social convention reveals his keen perception of the false social mores and the inherently complex, contradictory, socio-economic issues that come into play and that moreover dictate implacably the lives in a highly stratified society. Amado underscores this perception during the last paragraph where the point of view of the triumphant Antonieta becomes the main focus. Moreover, the subtle implication of social aspirations, inherent in Maria dos Reis' name (Mary of Kings) adds to Amado's intuitive portrayal of class consciousness and conflict. Furthermore, the added implication of Maria's falsidade and Antonieta's firmeza is basic and inescapable, but as we can see, this approach is not simplistic, because it signals to the reader perceptions into other multi-dimensional and complex issues such as the role of women, machismo and bourgeois behavior, all of which surface dualistically in contradictory situations. Thus, in a seemingly simple narrative, we have a considerably complex exposition of themes.

The next story under consideration is “De Como Porciúncula Descarregou o Seu Defunto,” first published in Rio in the monthly literary magazine Senhor.¹⁷ This story, translated and included in The Eye of the Heart, Short Stories from Latin America, 1973,¹⁸ serves as a fine illustration of Amado's consistent, conceptual framework as well as his adaptation of techniques from Brazil's popular poetry which later find their most notable expression and parallel in Amado's Tereza Batista, 1972. In fact, the character Tereza Batista is alluded to in this earlier 1959 narrative along with her sister Maria do Véu, one of the central figures in the story. This practice points to one of Amado's common literary devices—that of using the same characters across different narratives, thereby bestowing upon his world a sense of history and authenticity. This ploy, on the other hand, is also one of the more evident characteristics of the folhetos which mix history and fiction and purport to document only what has been “seen” or verified.

A close reading of “Porciúncula” will reveal all the major aspects of Amado's aesthetic mode; in particular, we notice his use of hyperbole and myth to characterize his own poetic and epic brand of “magical realism” that seeks to immortalize heroes who embody ethical and moral truths which encourage reader identity and above all represent basic human and universal values—ones that are depicted outside the confines of class, often in a marginal world not concerned with prejudice and appearances.

The first part of the narrative sets the stage for the drama between Porciúncula and his corpse, the dead Maria do Véu. Here, the narrator slips in the main theme before the actual development of the central story, a device common to the popular folhetos and one that draws the reader into the narrative and prepares him/her for the moral lesson that follows. In this case, the tale revolves around the mulatto's sense of duty and honesty as contrasted with its absence in two other characters: 1) a blond, cold-hearted Gringo who stabbed his adulterous wife and her lover to death, and 2) the son of a certain landowner, Coronel Barbosa, who deflowered Maria and promised to marry her in church with white gown and veil. These two men serve as bad examples for they never “get their corpses off their backs.” The Gringo never confesses and consequently is visibly bent and weighed down by his burden, since he never paid for his sins before the law. The coronel's son simply used Maria, never expecting to fulfill his promise honorably. The reader learns that Porciúncula had told his story to the present narrator on a rainy night in a bar in the presence of several drinkers, one of whom is the aforementioned Gringo. This set-up helps to contrast the more honorable Porciúncula with the dishonest Gringo by having the mulatto “unburden” or confess the whole truth of his story even though the narrative does not always place him in a favorable light. We learn through the retelling of the story by the present narrator that Porciúncula cheats at cards, is a renowned storyteller in his own right, and whores around with Tibéria's “girls” in this madam's bordello. It is via Tibéria that Porciúncula meets Maria who, after being seduced and abandoned by the coronel's son, ends up in Tibéria's whorehouse. Porciúncula is immediately smitten by Maria's beauty and consequently falls madly in love. She, on the other hand, appears indifferent to his advances, preferring to spend most of her leisure time going to weddings, cutting out pictures of brides and dreaming of someday wearing a veil. This behavior is a result of her having witnessed the wedding of the young coronel's son to the daughter of another prominent coronel. So obsessed is she with this scene that she becomes known as Mary of the Veil and at one point vows to Tibéria: “Um dia há de chegar e eu visto um vestido desses.”¹⁹ (One of these days you'll see me in one of those gowns.)

Maria demonstrates no affection for any man except perhaps for the sincere Porciúncula whom she regularly sees since he persistently seeks her out: “… não passava noite sem procurar Maria na beira do mar, espiando seu requebrar, nela querendo naufragar.”²⁰ (A night didn't go by when he wasn't watching for Maria on the waterfront, trailing her, wanting to shipwreck himself on her.) However, Maria mysteriously refuses to sleep with Porciúncula despite (or rather on account of) his sincere love. Porciúncula's sincerity and honesty are held in high esteem by the macho narrator because he recognizes the fact that another man would have lied, never admitting that he failed to sleep with Maria. But, the confused Porciúncula eventually tires of this rejection and momentarily forgets Maria in the sensual arms of a voluptuous mulata, Carolina. Later, when he learns that Maria is dying of a fever and is calling for him, he devotedly rushes to her side only to find that she has already expired, but not before confiding to Tibéria one last wish. Designating Porciúncula as her bridegroom, she asked to be buried with wedding gown, veil and bouquet. Although a half-crazed wish, it is a corpse's request, and so, not wishing to abandon Maria again, the honorable Porciúncula responds accordingly. Everything is arranged by Tibéria and her “girls” who make up a bridal ensemble fit for a queen. Sitting on the bed next to the splendiferously dressed Maria, Porciúncula places on her finger a ring given by Clarice, another abandoned woman. As he holds her hand, he notices that Maria is smiling. Assuring his listeners that he had not touched a drop, Porciúncula further swears to another supernatural phenomenon—the transformation of Tibéria into a priest dressed in all the appropriate vestments: “um padre gordo, com jeito de santo”²¹ (a fat priest who looked saintly). The “magical” elements serve here to heighten Porciúncula's honesty and actions. The story ends with the present narrator commenting on the fact that by “getting the corpse off his back” through his storytelling, Porciúncula relieved himself of his burden. In other words, this act translates into his redeeming himself for momentarily abandoning Maria, but above all, it shows his profound sense of duty and love as her suitor, a deed or virtue heightened by the contrast between Porciúncula and the other two men.

Jorge Amado thus reinforces the virtues of the members of the lower class with his Marxian dialectical polarity of positing them in relation to their socio-economic oppressors. Drawing upon the oral tradition of story-telling and his lyrical treatment of love, Amado also infuses his narrative with fantasy in order to magnify the deeds of his heroes and elevate them in the eyes of the readers. At the same time, via simple language, he casts a critical view upon the upper class by the use of an ironic narrator armed with humor and satire. However, it is the insertion of the supernatural and magic in this story which stresses Amado's departure from mere referential regionalism and stark social realism toward an increased usage of fantasy, legend and illusion in order to distill an inner reality of mythical proportions, one that reverberates in his epic and universal vision of human values inherent in the people of the lower and marginal classes. For the reader, these basic values serve as the reference point for identification with the humanity in Amado's world.

Porciúncula, as we learn in the later novel, Shepherds of the Night, is actually the character Cabo Martim, a central figure in that 1964 novel and also one of Berro D'Agua's faithful companions during the hero's “second-death,” the other short narrative also published in 1959, the year of the Porciúncula story. As a matter-of-fact, from this particular short story and its contemporary, Two Deaths, we can designate 1959 as an important turning point in Amado's imaginative use of fantasy. Moreover, this short story also serves as a clear, succinct example of how Amado employs a self-conscious narrative form to call attention to the art of storytelling as a process that is cathartic and instructive as well as entertaining. In so doing, he mirrors the popular poet's role as is most apparent in his following statement:

Sou um contador de histórias, jamais fui outra coisa. Histórias aprendidas do povo, vividas numa vida ardente e recriadas depois para entregá-las novamente ao povo de onde elas vieram. Isso é o que pretendia fazer e o que tenho feito.²²

(I'm a storyteller, I never was anything else. Stories I learned from the people, experienced during a passionate life and recreated later in order to return them again to the people from whence they came. That's what I intended to do and that's what I've done.)

In Myth and Ideology in Contemporary Brazil, Daphne Patai finds fault with Amado's use of myth and magic which she believes is contradictory to the Marxian premise that sets forth the need to abandon illusion in order to gain perceptive, rational knowledge.²³ In this story, the narrative's fantasy is specifically set up for the reader's purpose so that he/she may in fact grasp metaphorically, thus rationally, the story's quintessential reality—that of Porciúncula's and Maria's firmeza. As we have delineated, Amado's Weltanschauung is ultimately directed at registering for the reader the status quo in a Third World society such as Brazil's. Henceforth, his legendary moments of truth serve to elicit from the reader perceptions that eventually lead to a clearer understanding of the underlying conflicts and injustices within a highly class-conscious society.

This is remarkably evident in the third short story. Here, it is sufficient to note that “As Mortes e o Triunfo de Rosalinda” (1965)²⁴ is an anarchical, revolutionary fantasy that outlines the potential violence possible with class conflict. This monologue/harangue by an irreverent and lower-class narrator who relentlessly assails an array of imaginary readers with virulent, sarcastic and vituperative epithets, directed at their middle and upper-class selves, recalls Amado's dialectical approach and use of myth but, above all, appears to be a direct product of the political times—the period related to the 1964 military take-over. On the other hand, the narrative's revolutionary spirit and implicit call for violent action also bring to mind Amado's literary roots of the 30's and their Marxist stance, apparent in these words which he articulated during his acceptance speech at the Brazilian Academy of Letters in 1961: “Nasci para a literatura e o romance … quando os fundamentos do Brasil vinham de ser abalados por um movimento revolucionário de raízes populares.”²⁵ (I was born for literature and the novel … at a time when Brazil's very foundations were being shaken by a revolutionary movement of popular roots.) Here we are reminded of Amado's original literary impulse, one that, notwithstanding its later development, sophistication and tempered stance, has, in our opinion never really veered away from his popular and political perspective, but has in fact sparked and guided his aesthetics toward a more universal dimension. As Roger Bastide once noted, Jorge Amado seeks to defend the spontaneity of life against the illusory search for material riches or appearances of respectability. In short, Amado advocates individual freedom over the alienating forms of social oppression.²⁶ This theme has undeniable appeal for everyone because it is the stuff of literature with which all readers can identify.

In conclusion, it appears that in these stories as well as in his novels, Jorge Amado is reaching for universal truths through his own particular version of the Brazilian Human Condition. Perhaps this is what Fritz Teixeira meant when speaking about the noble Gabriela: “E o que é Gabriela, senão um grande poema popular, uma rapsódia do povo, símbolo de uma humanidade que nasce—uma humanidade brasileira?”²⁷ (And what is Gabriela, if not a great popular poem, a rhapsody of the people, symbol of a humanity that is coming to life—a Brazilian humanity?) The uniqueness of this Brazilian humanity or spirit is the reflective lens through which Jorge Amado strives to frame those universals and singular human values that ultimately transcend national boundaries and the oppressive barriers of class in an almost messianic search²⁸ for the kind of Hope that will liberate Mankind.

Notes

1. Paulo Tavares, O Baiano Jorge Amado e Sua Obra (Rio de Janeiro: Editora Record, 1980), p. 194.

2. Charles E. May, “The Unique Effect of the Short Story: A Reconsideration and an Example,” Studies in Short Fiction, 13 (Summer 1976), 291.

3. May, p. 292.

4. Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism (New York: Atheneum, 1968), p. 136.

5. Jon Stephen Vincent, “Jorge Amado: Politics and the Novel,” Diss. University of New Mexico 1970, pp. 421-426.

6. Candace Slater, Stories on a String: The Brazilian ‘Literatura de Cordel’ (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), pp. 71-73.

7. Fredric Jameson, The Political Unconscious, Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1981), p. 80.

8. Jameson, p. 77.

9. Jameson, p. 79.

10. Daphne Patai, Myth and Ideology in Contemporary Brazilian Fiction (London: Associated University Presses, 1983), p. 111.

11. Jameson, p. 105.

12. Sergei Eisenstein, “Dialectical Approach to Film Form” in Marxism and Art, eds. Berel Lang and Forrest Williams (New York: David McKay Company, Inc. 1972), p. 358.

13. Eisenstein, p. 358.

14. Tavares, p. 177.

15. Jorge Amado, “História do Carnaval” in Panorama do Conto Baiano, (eds. Vasconcelos Maia e Nélson de Araújo (Salvador: Livraria Progresso Editora, 1959), p. 153. (Unless otherwise noted, translations of this story and other quotations from the Portuguese are by the author of this essay.)

16. Amado, p. 154.

17. Tavares, p. 177.

18. Barbara Howes, ed., The Eye of the Heart: Short Stories from Latin America (Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1973), pp. 253-261. (Translation of this story by Edwin and Margot Honig.)

19. Jorge Amado, “De Como Porciúncula Descarregou o Seu Defunto” in Escritores Brasileiros Contemporâneos, ed. Renard Perez (Rio de Janeiro: Editora Civilização Brasileria, 1960), p. 217.

20. Amado, “Porciúncula,” p. 216.

21. “Porciúncula,” p. 218.

22. Miécio Táti, Jorge Amado, Vida e Obra (Belo Horizonte: Editora Itatiaia, 1961), p. 177.

23. Patai, pp. 111-140.

24. Jorge Amado, “As Mortes e o Triunfo de Rosalinda” in Os Dez Mandamentos, ed. Ênio Silveira (Rio de Janeiro: Editora Civilizaĉão Brasileira), pp. 135-147.

25. Jorge Amado, “Discurso de Posse na Academia Brasileira” in Jorge Amado, Povo e Terra, 40 Anos de Literatura (Rio de Janeiro: Livraria Martins. Editora, 1972), p. 12.

26. Roger Bastide, “Sobre o Romancista Jorge Amado” in Jorge Amado, Povo e Terra, pp. 51-52.

27. Táti, pp. 170-171.

28. Bastide, p. 55.