Quem nunca comprou um livro só pela capa, né? Mas, pensando bem, é justo. Só pelo design, a gente já pode adiantar muitas coisas de um livro – se não seu gênero, pelo menos o estilo de escrita.
Dito isso, já deu para entender porque ficamos empolgados com “Onde Cantam os Pássaros”, estreia da inglesa Evie Wyld que chega no Brasil em maio desse ano:
E, pelo que ficamos sabendo, a escolha foi acertada. Lá fora, o livro conquistou diversos prêmios literários, incluindo o Barnes & Noble Discover Awards e o Miles Franklin Award, prêmio australiano mais importante da literatura.
A colagem da capa tem muito a ver com a narrativa, que vai e volta no tempo e passa da Austrália para o Reino Unido num piscar de olhos. Pode até parecer confuso no começo, mas você vai pegando o ritmo com o tempo.
O romance traz a história de Jake White, uma fazendeira que leva uma vida simples numa ilha inglesa. Tendo como única companhia um cachorro que atende por cão, ela percebe aos poucos que talvez não esteja tão segura assim – nem tão sozinha. Aos poucos, acompanhamos sua vida na Austrália e descobrimos o que a levou à reclusão.
Bateu a curiosidade aí? Então olha um trecho do primeiro capítulo (em inglês, por enquanto):
The farm shop at Marling had a warped and faded sign at the foot of its gate that read FREE BABY GUINEA PIGS. There was never any trace of the free guinea pigs and I had passed the point of being able to ask. The pale daughter of the owner was there, doing a crossword. She looked up at me, then looked back down like she was embarrassed.
“Hi,” I said.
She blushed but gave me the smallest of acknowledgements. She wore a thick green tracksuit and her hair was in a ponytail. Around her eyes was the faint redness that came after a night of crying or drinking.
Normally the potatoes from that place were good, but they all gave a little bit when I picked them up. I put them back down and moved over to tomatoes, but they weren’t any good either. I looked up out the window to where the farm’s greenhouse stood and saw the glass was all broken.
“Hey,” I said to the girl, who when I turned around was already looking at me, sucking the end of her pencil. “What happened to your greenhouse?”
“The wind,” she said, taking her pencil to the side of her mouth just for a moment. “Dad said to say the wind blew it in.”
I could see the glass scattered outside where normally they kept pots of ugly pink cyclamen with a sign that said THE JEWEL FOR YOUR WINTER GARDEN. Just black earth and glass now.
“Wow,” I said.
“Things always get mad on New Year’s Eve,” said the girl in an older voice that surprised both of us. She blushed deeper and turned her eyes back to her crossword. In the greenhouse, the man who normally ran the shop sat with his head in his hands.
