Shockingly, the Portuguese poet, Fernando Pessoa, is a novelty in American academia today, even though he wrote in the early twentieth century. He has been described by Richard Zenith, the man responsible for introducing this genius to us, as "Portugal's Walt Whitman." We missed this genius since Portuguese has never been a politically and numerically prominent language, unlike Spanish, French, and English. Now we have the opportunity to discover that he is among the greats, in the ranks of Whitman, Faulkner, Joyce, and Miller.

Pessoa wrote under numerous "heteronyms" or alter-egos, and fully fleshed out each character with unique biographies, lifestyles, and philosophies. As represented in the style of writing of each heteronym, Pessoa strikes the heart of our imagination -by both creatively and accuratively conveying the struggles, conflicts, philosophies, and emptiness of each character.

Pessoa did not write for an audience. His audience was the numerous poet-alter-egos he imagined. There have been numerous Pessoa-written criticism among his alter-egos, along with narratives of their meetings. As the reader, I dare ask, is it correct to treat each heteronym as unique poets, or view them in light of the whole?

In Fernando Pessoa & Co., we are introduced to four of his heteronyms: Ricardo Reis, Alberto Caeiro, Alvaro de Campos, and himself, Fernando Pessoa. In a bad nutshell, in terms of content and style, Reis writes like Dickinson, Caiero writes like Frost, Campos writes like Whitman, and Pessoa himself writes in short, compact verses, while presenting explosive subject matters, such as homosexuality, justice, and apathy. Why did he do this?

According to Zenith, Pessoa wrote in heteronyms to achieve sincerity with incomplete insincerity. By relinquishing his identity for other identities, it leads the poet to a higher creative field and a well-justified artistic license, almost like relative minimalism, but not quite.

But on the other hand, Pessoa may also be schizophrenic. But don't draw such fast conclusions. And in any case, it's not psychology that is the complete basis of great poetry; it's the human spirit. So let our poetic responses be the judge.

Grand, grand, grand.

Just being himself wasn't good enough for Fernando Pessoa, so he divided himself into four distinct, invented personalities ("heteronyms") and wrote poetry from the perspective and in the style of each of them. This in itself is a remarkable feat of literary imagination.

The poetry itself (well, this translation of it) is startling. It's direct and plain-spoken for the most part, even allowing for the personality differences. It may look un-poetic, or even awkward, at first reading. But it sticks. Days after reading, you may find lines and phrases of Pessoa & Co. springing up spontaneously in your head, just because they're so sharp and to the point. Getting to know this multitudinous poet is an invigorating experience. Try it yourself.

If Fernando Pessoa had lived in an English-speaking country (and mind you, he spoke perfect English since childhood and wrote some of his poems in that language), he would probably be more popular among academians and university students as Pound or Elliot. During his lifetime, he assumed a number of names and personalities, which reflect different and complementary ways of understanding life and poetry. From theoretical paganism towards XXth century malaise, his work is very thorough. Whereas some of his poems might seem a bit depressing (I am thinking about "The tobacco shop" and "The road to Sintra"), the mere fact somebody wrote something as beautiful and human makes them enlightening. I know this isn't an academic review as such, but Pessoa's poetry needn't only be read from you mind, but also from your gut. This a book definitely worth buying if you consider yourself a poetry lover.

This is an excellent example of why A. Lobo Antunes should win the Nobel Prize. The book is built around a once healthy family with a very peculiar group of members. Each one will give you is view of the family in is strange vision of the world. Amazing book.

The author is a MD shrink And we feel that very well on the way he draws his characters on this book. Very well written. One of the Nobel prize nominees this year, last year and next year. Until he finally wons it.

One of the best contemporary portuguese novelists! The reading of this book, or any other of the same author for that matter, is both compelling and envolving! For those who are strangers to portuguese fiction I strongly recommend this book.

Antunes book is not an easy read, but once you get started it is impossible to put down. His poetic style is intoxicating. Read him before the recieves the Nobel prize!

In The Natural Order Of Things, Antonio Lobo Antunes tells the story of two families and the secrets that inextricably bind them. The finely tuned, vividly articulate voices and memories of his characters present a dreamlike reality that resonates in the mind and imagination of the reader: an army officer tortured in prison on charges of conspiracy; an elderly man, once a miner in Mozambique, now reduced to dreams of "flying underground"; a diabetic teenage girl and the middle-aged husband she despises. These and other elements combine to create a portrait of a disintegrating society and the history of Portugal as a family history. The Natural Order Of Things is ably translated from the Portuguese by Richard Zenith.

This is Antunes' second book in his so-called "Benfica trilogy". It is a strange and haunting story about a family and their surroundings during three generations, and Antunes tells us about their inner lives and their deepest feelings. Despite the surreal and tragic settings of his characters, the author manages to convey a genuine feeling of compassion in his story (or rather, stories). This is truly a tragedy in a dark landscape. But it is all so beautifully told! A wonderful book it is, and I recommend it to all book lovers who are willing to put in an effort. I believe this is one of this century's great books. It may seem confusing at times - Antunes uses parallel monologues and stories throughout the book - but it all adds up, as they say. Read it, and you'll see - it really is strange to be so happy after reading such a sad story!

Pessoa calls Prose "The Dark Clouds of My Horizon" and how aptly too. Nobody writes about the human condition, the bleak, despairing but ever beauteous state of our mysterious lives quite the same way as Pessoa. This is existentialism without the bitterness, the anger and ultimately the denial. This is the documentation of a man who pours out his soul to the world without resorting to pathetic calls for sympathy. The usual blend of inane and manufactured pathos that seem to plague everybody else. This is a man, a man of incredible moral courage and spiritual strength, reporting from the depths of his reflections with no pretensions of offering hope or heartwarming, feelgood sentiments. This is, in short, prose (or poetry) of the highest order. This book is not recommended for everybody, only for people who dare to face their lives and live to their fullest potential.

This is a beautiful, amorphous book which is different everytime one reads it--regardless of the translation. What I mean is...where one stops while reading changes the book...it is 'literally' a different book everytime one reads. This translation is the best by far of those available, I also believe it to be the most scholarly. I have only one proviso: Please, if you can manage it, find a copy of the original printing of this translation, in reprinting they've reduced the scale of the book without resetting so the print is smaller and the bind is not quite as good (if you're like me, you'll likely wear this book out reading it no matter what edition you have). If you can't, by all means buy the reprint, it's not that bad...just regrettable that they had to reduce to save money. THIS IS A LANDMARK OF MODERNISM AND OF POSTMODERNISM...I WOULD EVEN GO AS FAR AS TO SAY THAT IT IS A LANDMARK OF THE UNIVERSAL HUMAN SPIRIT. =)

This book is full of genius and madness, which are nearly indistinguishable from one another. Like Kafka, Pessoa stands above his peers for his profound sense of humanity. He is also as singular as Kafka. Pessoa is a mystery, and his notes and letters further illustrate this. I am sorry that he died before the world would honor him as one of the Twentieth Century's greatest writers. However, Pessoa was well aware of his genius and the admiration of the world would have done nothing to convince him of his worth. He was already convinced!
Pessoa published little during his lifetime, but it was because he never submitted much of his work for publication. Apparetnly, the Portugese publishers still haven't published all of his works, either, and that is a shame.
One thing that stands out about this book is that Pessoa does not engage in any of the posturing that one might find in the works of other writers convinced of their genius. One senses that Pessoa considers his genius not in boast, but as if it were as unavoidable as his own face. It is fact to him; he cannot change it. His is a sad genius, not a violent genius. But do not pity him; he knew what he was doing. Pessoa was a man who knew what it meant to be a writer (that is, a perpetual other, an individual who can describe the world because he stands apart from it).
Pessoa is a wonder. Buy this book. I only wish it were the "Collected Prose" of Pessoa rather than the "Selected Prose."

One more note, if you are interested in Portugese literature you must read Anotnio Lobo Antunes, also published by Grove Press. A few of his works have been also translated by Richard Zenith (to whom I am grateful for his translations). If you like madness, madness in the Faulknerian sense, then you will love Lobo Antunes.

Richard Zenith is my favourite translator of Pessoa; in this collection, he brings the insight and perspective he brought to his transcendant "Pessoa & Co." and "Book of Disquietude." The puckish nature of Pessoa's heteronym project is put into sharp relief: those who know only Pessoa/Soares may have thought the subsumption into heteronymology a sad affaire.

This collection complicates and deepens that perspective, with selections ranging from the whole of Pessoa's life, from the childhood Alexander Search to the elderly and Stoic Baron of Tieve, yet remains (as Pessoa remains) wholly delightful and charming. A Maria José even appears, in a letter "From A Hunchbacked Girl To A Metalworker" (a heartbreaking letter, I may add). Pessoa's possibly affected eccentricities is in full evidence here: witness the "Riddle Of The Stars," a kind of proto-"Changing Light At Sandover," wherein Pessoa receives otherworldly communiqués via automatic writing and the spirits exhort him repeatedly to lose his virginity. Other kicks: his "static drama" "O Marinhero" and Alvaro de Campos' "Ultimatum," where he personally attacks everyone responsible for World War I (and I mean, _everyone_).

Zenith's notes are indispensable (though he peculiarly abandons his "Disquietude" for "Disquiet," and chooses American English as his idiom). All in all, a welcome addition to the Pessoan archive in English, and a breathtaking array of further complications.

As Rui S., 33 year old professor of political science and failed husband, son, and lover, looks back on his limited accomplishments, he contemplates his future and finds it particularly bleak. The son of a powerful and wealthy industrialist, Rui turned his back on the family business, studied the liberal arts, and joined the Communist Party. He married Tucha, a beautiful shrew, and fathered two children. We spend the entire book following a torrent of memories that washes over and around and through glimpses of the present. What distinguishes An Explanation of the Birds from other novels of its type is the manner of the telling. Past and present inter-mingle on the page with no markings or divisions acting as cues to the reader. Scenes from the past share space with scenes from the present within the same paragraph. It's a remarkable strategy that demands the reader remain ever attentive, but the effect is mesmerizing and works in a manner reminiscent of the magic realism of Garcia Marquez or Donoso. The novel is also cynically critical of modern Portugal, and of politics in general. Rui S. emerges as pathetic, his female companions as heartless, and his family as emotionally vapid and effete. Not a pretty picture. It is a novel worth reading for its brilliant technique, not necessarily for the warmth of its characterizations.

This is a ironic tale of a ordinay fellow on a particular situation. The life of Rui is a very ordinary one, divorced and married again, college professor, communist or maybe not, an ordinay wife. Rich son married with a communist lower-class wife. Now he tries to change this. Get a new life but how?