{"id":1054,"date":"2025-04-07T22:43:01","date_gmt":"2025-04-07T22:43:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/diasporasemportugues.ilcml.com\/?post_type=glossary&p=1054"},"modified":"2025-04-07T22:43:01","modified_gmt":"2025-04-07T22:43:01","slug":"adriana-lisboa","status":"publish","type":"glossary","link":"https:\/\/diasporasemportugues.ilcml.com\/en\/glossary\/adriana-lisboa\/","title":{"rendered":"Adriana Lisboa"},"content":{"rendered":"

Adriana Lisboa is one of the most distinctive and prolific voices among a generation of Brazilian writers that came of age at the turn of the millennium. Her first novel, Os fios da mem\u00f3ria<\/em>, was published in 1999 and was a finalist for the Jos\u00e9 Saramago prize, which she then won in 2001for her second, widely acclaimed novel, Sinfonia em branco<\/em>, translated and published in a dozen languages and countries. Since then, she has published another six novels, two story collections, and the book-length essay reflecting on memory, mortality, and grief, Todo o tempo que existe<\/em> (2022), selected by the Folha de S\u00e3o Paulo<\/em> for its list of books of the year. In 2014, she made her public debut as a poet with the publication of her collection, Parte da paisagem<\/em>, which was followed by another three books of poetry, including Deriva<\/em> (2019), semifinalist for the both the Jabuti and Oceanos prizes. She has published another half dozen books for children and young adults, and she also works as a literary translator from French, English, and Spanish, having translated works by Cormac McCarthy, Marguerite Duras, Maurice Blanchot, Emily Bront\u00eb, and Jos\u00e9 Lezama Lima, among others.<\/p>\n

Lisboa was born in Rio de Janeiro in 1970. She studied music at university and worked as a singer in France, and flute and music theory teacher in Rio before dedicating herself to writing and translation. She completed masters and doctoral degrees in comparative literature at the Universidade Estadual do Rio de Janeiro. She was a visiting research fellow at the Centro Internacional de Estudos Japoneses \u2013 Nichibunken and the University of New Mexico and also writer in residence at the University of California-Berkely and the University of Texas-Austin. Since 2007, she has lived in the U.S., first in Colorado and then in Texas.<\/p>\n

Her work is expansive and varied in the timely and timeless themes and questions it engages with \u2013 legacies of dictatorship and patriarchal violence, animal rights, memory and mourning, Buddhist philosophy, climate and environmental change, intergenerational and cross-cultural relationships, among others. It is perhaps most consistently defined by its engagement with experiences of diaspora and transnational dislocation, whether taking the form of exile, immigration, or travel. This has been a consistent feature of all of her work, including novels and poetry, since the publication of Rakushisha<\/em> in 2007. This novel imagines the encounter and relationship between a young woman left grieving and disoriented after the death of her child and the disintegration of her marriage and a second-generation Japanese-Brazilian illustrator, who, after being invited to illustrate a Brazilian edition of the work of Bash\u014d, finds himself ambivalently facing his very limited knowledge of Japan and interrogating his hyphenated identity as a Brazilian of Japanese descent. In a moment of radical curiosity about and openness to the stranger \u2013 another structuring motif of much of Lisboa\u2019s work \u2013 they agree to travel together from Brazil to Japan, seeking solace and self-understanding in the writings of the seventeenth-century haiku poet and travel diarist.<\/p>\n

Beginning with Azul-corvo<\/em>, published in 2010, the U.S. becomes, along with Brazil, one of the locational and identity vectors of Lisboa\u2019s work. This novel narrates the journey of the teenage Brazilian-American protagonist from Rio de Janeiro to Colorado and New Mexico, following the death of her mother. She is placed in the care of her mother\u2019s ex-husband, a Brazilian immigrant and exile, one of very few fighters to have survived the failed Araguaia guerrilla resistance against the military dictatorship, and she is befriended by a boy, the child of undocumented Salvadoran immigrants, who becomes something of a surrogate younger brother. Together they travel in search of information about the girl\u2019s biological father, reconstructing or reinventing family ties, identity, and forms of belonging in the aftermath of a constellation of dislocations. This immigrant story and the social and physical geographies it spans largely unfolds through subjective registers of memory, perception, and knowing \u2013 and the gaps within them \u2013 and the introspective exploration of emotional and cognitive responses to the real. Regarding this quality, Renata Ribeiro considers the novel as an example of what critic Karl Erik Schollhammer calls affective realism, a narrative approach that reaffirms exploration of the interior life of characters as part and parcel of the connection between reality and representation.<\/p>\n

Likewise, Han\u00f3i<\/em>, published in 2013, tells an immigrant story, or a confluence of immigrant stories, that span diverse types and geographies. This time, the protagonists and settings are centered in Chicago, with a physical dislocation in the form of a trip to the novel\u2019s title city coming only at the end, as a sort of pilgrimage and denouement. Still, the two protagonists\u2019 identities and internal lives, as third-culture Americans, are shaped and fragmented by the origins, experiences, and stories of their parents \u2013 from Mexico and Brazil, the U.S. and Vietnam, respectively \u2013 and social forces and historical events, most centrally the American military interventions in Southeast Asia but also the beginnings, in the 1990s, of large-scale migration of Brazilians to the U.S. Marguerite Harrison considers the novel and its characters through the concept of map-bending, or the act of folding a map to establish \u201ca meeting point within non-bisecting points\u201d (102), creating, as Lisboa puts it, an \u201cestalo de proximidade\u201d (qtd. in Harrison, 102). Through these characters, and through the fortuitous encounter and transformative, even if tragically brief, relationship that develops between them, a Chicago neighborhood intersected with Hanoi meets Chicago as intersected with Governador Valadares. While the characters embody the transnational, this is also manifest through music as one of the novel\u2019s themes, with references and reflections on the musical world inhabited and cultivated by one of them, the Brazilian-Mexican-American who is also a jazz trumpetist.<\/p>\n

Lisboa\u2019s most recent two novels continue to unfold this exploration of variations on transnational connections and dislocations, and they share in common an exploration, both topical and philosophical, of the distances, proximities, and interconnections between humans and their non-human others, between human and more-than-human worlds. In Todos os santos<\/em> (2019), a narrative that transits between Rio de Janeiro and Oceania, the Anthropocene is thematized both through the protagonist\u2019s research on trans-Pacific bird migration and ominous scenes of turbulent waters connecting Guanabara Bay and New Zealand\u2019s Manawat\u016b River. And Os grandes carn\u00edvoros<\/em> (2024) tells the story of a woman returning to Brazil after serving a prison sentence in the U.S. for her involvement with a group of radical animal rights activists and the burning of a research laboratory. In this narrative, the vectors and factors of dislocation are multiple, including trajectories spanning the U.S., Brazil, and Mexico, but also between the social worlds of family, community, friendships, and activist networks and the relative isolation of prison and the chosen site for the protagonist\u2019s return and recovery, a rental house on the outskirts of a small town in the mountains of Rio de Janeiro state. As the protagonist recalls the experiences and decisions that led her there and forms uncertain connections in this new world, the novel interrogates forms and meanings of destructiveness and violence, between humans, against animals, in defense of non-human lives, and against oneself.<\/p>\n

The trajectory of Lisboa\u2019s work as a novelist is perhaps the most consistently accomplished manifestation of the transnational as a distinctive tendency to emerge in Brazilian literature since the late 1990s, a period marked both by intensified global circulation of cultural artifacts and of Brazilians as travelers, tourists, and immigrants, and the projection of Brazil as a global presence, most markedly during the economic, diplomatic, and soft-power boom years that coincided with the first two terms of Lula\u2019s government. The confident and unsettled expansiveness \u2013 thematically, geographically, and philosophically \u2013 of her writing is expanded further through her poetry. Across four collections of poems published since 2014, Lisboa\u2019s worldliness as a writer and thinker is given free reign and fully on display, in poems that engage with fellow writers, artists and thinkers (Pessoa, Goethe, Ailton Krenak, Derrida, John Cage, Taizan Maizumi, Cec\u00edlia Meirelles, Manuel Bandeira, Hugo Mujica, Karen Solie, Mariana Ianelli, Jim Harrison, Ad\u00edlia Lopes, etc.), topics, beings, images, places, and feelings scattered across time and space, drawn into constellations by a delicate and sharply incisive lyrical voice that interrogates, in shock and wonder, facts and experiences of being in this world, amidst its mundane horrors and its mesmerizing beauty. It is a poetry, among other things, of the many departures from home, striding out into the world and into the worlds of the self, inhabiting the universe and universes of one\u2019s own conscious or unconscious creation but also haunted by what is lost or left behind, by choice or the inexorable forces of time and transformation. As Lisboa concludes the poem, \u201cMaced\u00f4nia\u201d, which closes her collection Pequena m\u00fasica<\/em> (2018), even Alexander the Great should have been haunted by the thought, or the failure to think, that perhaps home might have been enough: \u201cpor isso as l\u00e1grimas \/ n\u00e3o pela Ar\u00e1bia que ficou faltando \/ Alexandre \/ mas pela Maced\u00f4nia \/ que nem suspeitavas ser bastante\u201d (85). It is a persistent sense and sentiment given cosmopolitical meaning in \u201cSolastalgia\u201d, the long poem closing her 2021 collection, O vivo<\/em>, contemplating the Earth as home and feeling its losses, present and looming, amidst an inventory of signs of climate change and ecocide, \u201cvivo no mesmo lugar mas \/ tudo mudou tanto tudo \/ ao meu redor est\u00e1 t\u00e3o diferente \/ que sinto saudades de casa \/ mesmo ainda estando aqui\u201d (70).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Quotations<\/h6>\n

O que fica para tr\u00e1s<\/strong><\/p>\n

O que fica para tr\u00e1s
\nn\u00e3o \u00e9 um h\u00e1bito um c\u00edrculo
\nde amizades n\u00e3o \u00e9 a m\u00fasica
\ndo amolador de facas
\nnem o cheiro do mar em dia de ressaca
\nnem o guincho amoroso
\ndo \u00faltimo bonde<\/p>\n

fica um tempo
\no que existimos nesse tempo
\n\tdescont\u00ednuo
\ne n\u00e3o se trata de querer voltar
\nou de nunca ter sa\u00eddo<\/p>\n

trata-se do esfor\u00e7o
\nde recordar dia
\nap\u00f3s dia que a vida
\nse faz do improviso
\ne que partir\t\tsempre
\n\t\u00e9 outra maneira
\nde ficar.
\n(Deriva<\/em>: 52)<\/p>\n

Migrantes<\/strong>
\n Y el extranjero es siempre um sospechoso<\/em>.
\n Octavio Paz
\nDeixam a casa
\nlevam na mala o idioma natal
\n\tpor necessidade ou h\u00e1bito
\ncomo um documento de identidade
\na comprovar
\nque s\u00e3o aquilo que deixam
\ne por infer\u00eancia que deixam
\naquilo que s\u00e3o<\/p>\n

mas agora desancorados j\u00e1 n\u00e3o sabem
\nem idioma algum o que deixam
\nnem o que s\u00e3o
\nnem o que somam
\nnesta viagem que \u00e9 um longo
\ne lento aprender a flexionar
\nsinais de subtra\u00e7\u00e3o.
\n(Idem<\/em>: 53)<\/p>\n

Num saquinho de papel se embaralham nomes e palavras: Albuquerque, Copacabana, Londres, Araguaia, LIFE. IS. GOOD. Amaz\u00f4nia Colorado Guerrilha. Texas. Namorado Americano Lugar Nenhum. Algumas das palavras dizem respeito ao presente, outras v\u00eam do passado, outras podem pertencer a algum futuro. Est\u00e3o ali, confundidas. \u00c9 um saquinho de papel que Vanja vai levar, sem saber, na mala com as coisas importantes, quando fizer sua viagem de volta ao pa\u00eds onde nasceu e onde o grito de ordem a-vida-\u00e9-boa se escreve assim: life is good.
\n(Azul-corvo<\/em>: 52)<\/p>\n

Fernando j\u00e1 tinha dado tantas voltas depois de sair de casa que j\u00e1 n\u00e3o lembrava mais qual o caminho. Claro: a casa j\u00e1 n\u00e3o estava mais l\u00e1, portanto o caminho n\u00e3o podia estar. E n\u00e3o \u00e9 que a casa estivesse, agora, em toda parte \u2013 n\u00e3o, isso \u00e9 para os cidad\u00e3os do mundo, para os que viajam por esporte. Para os que nunca se arrastaram sobre a lama congelada na China e nunca correram o risco de ser devorados pelos ursos na Alasca. N\u00e3o \u00e9 que a casa estivesse em toda parte: a casa n\u00e3o estava em parte alguma. (Idem<\/em>: 73)<\/p>\n

Uma expatriada desde o ber\u00e7o, uma expatriada para sempre. Um resto de qualquer coisa, jornal, sacola de pl\u00e1stico, que vai sendo levado por a\u00ed com o vento, sem muito prop\u00f3sito.
\n\tDuas gera\u00e7\u00f5es depois, o que \u00e9 que Alex tinha a ver com isso?
\n\tUma lua de dist\u00e2ncia da hist\u00f3ria de Linh e Huong e Trung, o que David tinha a ver com isso?
\n\tGuerras em pa\u00edses distantes, e ainda por cima em d\u00e9cadas passadas, eram para os livros de hist\u00f3ria. Eram para algu\u00e9m fazer um document\u00e1rio de tempos em tempos. Eram para os pesquisadores dos departamentos apropriados nas universidades.
\n\tN\u00e3o eram para deixar nosso corpo desassossegado, como se fosse conosco, Alex pensou. N\u00e3o era conosco. Certo? (Han\u00f3i<\/em>: 181)<\/p>\n

Voltei \u00e0 nossa casa na rua Te Awe Awe ap\u00f3s aquele longu\u00edssimo voo, do Rio a Buenos Aires, de Buenos Aires a Auckland, de Auckland a Palmerston North. Tanto tempo que a alma teria de recuperar. E o trecho mais longo de todo o trajeto foi o de carro do pequenino aeroporto de Palmy at\u00e9 a nossa casa. Dez minutos, se tanto. Voc\u00ea ao volante e eu mordendo os l\u00e1bios por dentro at\u00e9 tirar sangue.
\n\tEra um dia da chuva forte. O rio estava gordo. O Manawat\u00ac\u016b, belo e triste, a polui\u00e7\u00e3o invis\u00edvel, inchado feito um bicho que estivesse engolindo a presa. Voc\u00ea foi at\u00e9 a janela. Apesar da chuva e do frio, for\u00e7ou a tranca meio emperrada, abriu a vidra\u00e7a. As \u00e1guas de Ians\u00e3 despencando do c\u00e9u. O c\u00e9u despencando, sei l\u00e1. Isabel tinha me contado, em algum momento, que para os ianom\u00e2mis era isso que aconteceria quando os xam\u00e3s todos morressem. N\u00e3o haveria mais ningu\u00e9m capaz de sustentar o c\u00e9u. (Todos os santos<\/em>: 135)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Selected Active Bibliography <\/h6>\n

Lisboa, Adriana (2010), Azul-corvo<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Rocco.<\/p>\n

— (2019), Deriva<\/em>. Belo Horizonte, Relic\u00e1rio.<\/p>\n

— (2013), Han\u00f3i<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Alfaguara.<\/p>\n

— (1999), O fio da mem\u00f3ria<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Rocco.<\/p>\n

— (2024), Os grandes carn\u00edvoros<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Alfaguara.<\/p>\n

— (2021), O vivo<\/em>. Belo Horizonte, Relic\u00e1rio. <\/p>\n

— (2014), Parte da paisagem<\/em>. S\u00e3o Paulo, Iluminuras.<\/p>\n

— (2018), Pequena m\u00fasica<\/em>. S\u00e3o Paulo, Iluminuras. <\/p>\n

— (2007), Rakushisha<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Rocco.<\/p>\n

— (2001), Sinfonia em branco<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Rocco.<\/p>\n

— (2022), Todo o tempo que existe<\/em>. Belo Horizonte, Relic\u00e1rio.<\/p>\n

— (2019), Todos os santos<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro, Alfaguara.
\n.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Selected Critical Bibliography<\/h6>\n

Harrison, Marguerite Itamar (2019), \u201cSpheres of Simultaneity in Adriana Lisboa\u2019s Novel Han\u00f3i<\/em>\u201d. Brasil\/Brazil, v. 32(60): 99-112.<\/p>\n

Martins, Analice de Oliveira (2021), \u201cGeografias do afeto e do desterro\u201d. T\u00e9ssera<\/em>, Edi\u00e7\u00e3o Especial (fev.\/jul.): 154-158. Consult\u00e1vel em: https:\/\/seer.ufu.br\/index.php\/tessera\/article\/view\/59831\/32322<\/a><\/p>\n

McNee, Malcolm K. (2016), \u201cAdriana Lisboa and the Delicate Task of Mourning\u201d. Metamorphoses<\/em>, v. 24(1-2): 181-187.<\/p>\n

Neves, J\u00falia Braga (2015), \u201cUm sentido para o fim: espa\u00e7os migrat\u00f3rios e melancolia em Han\u00f3i, de Adriana Lisboa\u201d. Estudos da Literatura Brasileira Contempor\u00e2nea<\/em>, v. 45: 139-157. Consult\u00e1vel em: https:\/\/periodicos.unb.br\/index.php\/estudos\/article\/view\/10010\/8843<\/a><\/p>\n

Nielson, Rex P. (2014), \u201cPatriarchy\u2019s Tramautic Afterlives: Adriana Lisboa\u2019s Poetics of Silence in Sinfonia em branco\u201d. Chasqui<\/em>, v. 43(2): 48-61.<\/p>\n

Ribeiro, Renata Rocha (2019), \u201cA realidade obedecia a uma outra escala: realismo afetivo em Azul-corvo, de Adriana Lisboa\u201d. Alea: Estudos Neolatinos, v. 21(1). Consult\u00e1vel em: https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1590\/1517-106X\/211111133<\/a><\/p>\n

Sch\u00f8llhammer, Karl E. (2013), \u201cRealismo afetivo: evocar realidade al\u00e9m da representa\u00e7\u00e3o”. In: Sch\u00f8llhammer, Karl E. Cena do crime: viol\u00eancia e realismo no Brasil contempor\u00e2neo<\/em>. Rio de Janeiro: Jos\u00e9 Olympio, 2013: 155-185.<\/p>\n

Silva, Mirian Cardoso da, e L\u00facia Osana Zolin (2018), \u201cEntre fragmentos identit\u00e1rios e estruturais: o romance contempor\u00e2neo de Adriana Lisboa\u201d. Veredas<\/em>, v. 30: 147-160. Consult\u00e1vel em: https:\/\/revistaveredas.org\/index.php\/ver\/article\/view\/557\/445<\/a><\/p>\n

Silva, Sandro Adriano da (2024), \u201cPara o presente e para o futuro: entrevista com Adriana Lisboa\u201d. Acta Scientiarum: Language and Culture<\/em>, v. 46(2): 1-6. Consult\u00e1vel em: https:\/\/periodicos.uem.br\/ojs\/index.php\/ActaSciLangCult\/article\/view\/72008\/751375157841<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Adriana Lisboa is one of the most distinctive and prolific voices among a generation of Brazilian writers that came of age at the turn of the millennium. Her first novel, Os fios da mem\u00f3ria, was published in 1999 and was a finalist for the Jos\u00e9 Saramago prize, which she then won in 2001for her second,… <\/p>\n

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