…Benjamin Black?(pergunta preambular baseada numa outra, bem célebre, formulada por Chuck Palahniuk retratando a esquizofrenia dos nossos dias, ou um caso extremo de doppelgänger, ou a Némesis em potência que é a nossa própria identidade – e lá regresso eu à aporia, tendo Sartre como epicentro deste abalo mental, neste caso contrariando-o depois de o haver aceitado: e se o inferno somos mesmo nós?
Benjamin Black é irlandês e estreou-se em Outubro de 2006 na ficção policial, ou no thriller – há lá palavra melhor!?
Auster, que é Benjamin de middle name, acaba de escrever sobre Blank, porém há um Benjamin, que já foi vencedor do Booker Prize – logo não é Paul, porque este é americano – e que publica com apelido Black.
Lá está o bater das asas da borboleta em Tóquio…
«It was not the dead that seemed to Quirke uncanny but the living. When he walked into the morgue long after midnight and saw Malachy Griffin there he felt a shiver along his spine that was to prove prophetic, a tremor of troubles to come. Mal was in Quirke’s office, sitting at the desk. Quirke stopped in the unlit body room, among the shrouded forms on their trolleys, and watched him through the open doorway. He was seated with his back to the door, leaning forward intently in his steel-framed spectacles, the desk lamp lighting the left side of his face and making an angry pink glow through the shell of his ear. He had a file open on the desk before him and was writing in it with peculiar awkwardness. This would have struck Quirke as stranger than it did if he had not been drunk. The scene sparked a memory in him from their school days together, startlingly clear, of Mal, intent like this, sitting at a desk among fifty other earnest students in a big hushed hall, as he laboriously composed an examination essay, with a beam of sunlight falling slantways on him from a window somewhere high above. A quarter of a century later he still had that smooth seal’s head of oiled black hair, scrupulously combed and parted.» (excerto do 1.º capítulo do livro Christine Falls, de Benjamin Black. Edição americana: Henry Holt & Co.)
Anda por aí uma fotografia de parelha e há uma pista nos marcadores.
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