Travelling to Rio to attend a book fair may seem like the equivalent of going to Vatican City in search of nightlife. Before leaving, the very mention of coming here had evoked either unsolicited advice — ‘Man, you must check out Copacabana beach’ — or unwelcome cheek — ‘Looking for the Girl from Ipanema?’. (Trivia: The 15-year-old said to have inspired the worldwide hit song is now a grandmother and has shifted from Rio to Sao Paolo.)
It’s hard to convince people that this invitation — thanks to the initiative of the Frankfurt Book Fair — is not about beaches or bikinis but books. The only window of opportunity to play tourist in a programme crammed with back-to-back meetings is utilised to cable car up Sugarloaf Mountain. The view is splendid but also peculiarly unsettling. There is sea, beach, bay, forest and mountain. And there is a rash of construction, slums and high rises.
No other metropolis exists so close to nature, a proximity that is fascinating (rainforests fan out from the edges of large settlements made up of enormous tower blocks) and disturbing (the green being a relief as well as a reminder of what has been destroyed). On top of this mountain of rock that rises precipitously from water’s edge, a bunch of marmosets pose willingly for photographs, looking quizzically at cameras as shutters and flashes are fired. In Shakespeare’s “Tempest”, Caliban offers to teach Stephano “how to snare the nimble marmoset.” Up Sugarloaf, you can virtually reach out and pick up the small monkeys.
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On the face of it, Rio’s International Book Fair resembles any other — rows of colourful stands strung out in neat lines, helpful signage hanging from the roof to navigate between pavilions and to locate exits, and eager milling crowds that are a pleasing reminder that books will never go out of fashion.
But Riocentro, which houses the fair and boasts of being the largest convention centre in Latin America, takes your breath away because of its location. Situated in the city’s outskirts, Riocentro — like many other parts of this extraordinary city — lies within touching distance of the rainforests. In front, a thick canopy of lush green banks steeply before giving way to craggy mountain tops. In the distance, a flock of birds fly in lazy circles as if hovered on air cushions.
It is an effort to tear myself from the view and go inside.
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Book fairs are a reflection of national character. We, a group of seven journalists from all over the world, are listening to an introductory lecture by Antonio Laskos of Sindicato Nacional dos Editores de Livros (SNEL), which runs the Fair. In the middle of a sentence, a huge roar erupts as some 200 schoolchildren rush to one of the stands squealing and screaming in collective frenzy. ‘Could Ronaldo have dropped by to pick up a book?’ one of the journalists asks. No, no, the answer comes, that is probably Ziraldo.
Ziraldo? A new football sensation we haven’t heard about yet? Not quite, it turns out. He is an elderly author of children’s books, principally graphic novels. ‘Wow, he must be really famous,’ says someone. ‘Well there are others even better known such as Thalita Reboucas and Mauricio De Souza,’ responds an official, leaving us to wonder what might have happened had one of them been present.
Wandering through the Fair, I can’t help thinking how different the mood is from the two other international book fairs I have visited. Frankfurt presents a businesslike and efficient face and Abu Dhabi couldn’t be quieter or more orderly. Here it is raucous, warm and full of laughter. With so many young people dashing around and shouting at the top of their voices, you might be forgiven for believing you were at a football match or a rock concert.
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One of the reasons that book fairs in Brazil attract so many schoolchildren is the government, which makes it possible for each of them to acquire a free book of their choice against their entry ticket. The Brazilian State is the largest book client in the world.
Later in Sao Paolo, a meeting with the Camara Brasileira do Livro, the influential association representing the Brazilian book industry, throws up another remarkable statistic. In 2008, Brazil’s government bought $457 million worth of books (the bulk for primary education and middle school), about a third of the value of the total book market.
Book fairs are held on alternate years between Rio and Sao Paolo, Brazil’s largest city. But there are something like a dozen others, which provide an important platform for bookselling — around 15 per cent of books sold every year. The challenge for the industry here is to sell translation rights abroad, something that is not happening in enough quantities in what is still an insular book industry, intrinsically tied up to education.
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We meet many book publishers, too many to list. There is Antonio Erivan Gomes of Cortez Editora, which specialises in education and environment but does a neat range of children’s books, including an illustrated series of 27 Brazilian cities, which I imagine would work very well in India.
The cities speak in the first person about their history, monuments and culture in a simple language and the books have sold enough for many reprints. Mariana Warth of Pallas specialises in African-Portuguese culture, a subject of renewed Brazilian interest that receives considerable government support.
Her portfolio has a sense of strong social purpose, but is a continuation of the business started by her grandfather, who made a living from publishing books about African voodoo and spells after he discovered there was a great demand for such material within the African-Portuguese community. At the bigger and posher end, there is the Sao Paolo-based Cosacnaify, which does a range of immaculately designed books on art, photography, literature and fashion.
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One thing on the minds of all Brazilian publishers is the Novo Acordo — the new orthographic agreement for the Portuguese language. At a time when other languages, particularly English, seem to be celebrating their linguistic diversity, Portuguese will move towards uniformity thanks to an accord signed by seven Portuguese-speaking countries (Brazil, Portugal, Angola, Mozambique, Cape Verde, Guinea-Bissau, Sao Tome and Principe), which comes into force January 2009.
Three letters will be dropped from the alphabet, umlauts will no longer be used for certain words, hypens will have no place for many others, and there will be pronunciation changes as well.
About 0.5 per cent of Portuguese words in Brazil will undergo a change, which means that publishers will have to read and introduce the alterations in any book they decide to reprint. “This will involve both work and money,” one publisher grumbles.
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On learning I am Indian, the conversation invariably turns to a television soap opera that wound up some two weeks ago. Titled “Caminho das Indias” (Routes to India), it closed as the most watched show on Brazilian television. Shot in Varanasi and played almost entirely by Brazilian actors, the story centres around the love between a upper caste girl (Maya) and a Dalit boy (Bahuan), with a string of sub-plots. There is pretty much everything you would find in a typical Bollywood movie — forbidden love, parental opposition, dance, music, religion.
The soap has reportedly been so popular that books on India have made it to bestseller lists, the number of Brazilian tourists visiting India has increased dramatically, Indian-style jewellery has become a rage and nightclubs with desi themes have begun to open. Many people I meet ask questions about issues raised in the serial — about caste, marriage and custom. The odd Hindi expression used in soap seems to have been ingrained in popular lingo. ‘Arre Baba’ someone quips. ‘Bhagwan ke liye’ says somebody else. Almost everyone can greet you with a namaste. And almost everyone who has seen it wants to visit India.
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There is no time to get under the canopy of the rainforests near Sao Paolo either. We have to make do with the botanical garden, which is full of birdsong and tall buttressed trees.
My interest in the rainforest has caught the attention of the organisers of the junket, including our gracious host, Dolores Manzano, Camara Brasileira do Livro’s Project Manager and a keen watcher of the “Camhino das Indias” soap. When asked why I am so keen on getting out there, I reply ‘Arre baba, its Brazil.’
She smiles in full understanding.
