What do you think?
Rate this book
Brief Space Between Color and Shade
Winner of the 1998 Machado de Assis Award for Best Novel from the Brazil National Library.
In a period of just three days, everything changes for young painter Eduardo "Tato" Simmone, who has never sold a painting. During the funeral of Tato's renowned and beloved mentor, AnÃbal Marsotti, Tato meets two people who will determine his fate: a beautiful young woman who may be a vampire and a major dealer of art forgeries. Tato gets caught up investigating the theft of famed Italian figurative painter Amadeo Modigliani's tombstone, and all signs point to Curitiba, Brazil--Tato's hometown. A letter from an expert art historian in Italy brings Tato further clues, but shadows lurk in all directions and there is no one to trust. Tato discovers the similarities between viewing a painting and solving a crime: closer examination shows us there is more to people than meets the eye.
In a period of just three days, everything changes for young painter Eduardo "Tato" Simmone, who has never sold a painting. During the funeral of Tato's renowned and beloved mentor, AnÃbal Marsotti, Tato meets two people who will determine his fate: a beautiful young woman who may be a vampire and a major dealer of art forgeries. Tato gets caught up investigating the theft of famed Italian figurative painter Amadeo Modigliani's tombstone, and all signs point to Curitiba, Brazil--Tato's hometown. A letter from an expert art historian in Italy brings Tato further clues, but shadows lurk in all directions and there is no one to trust. Tato discovers the similarities between viewing a painting and solving a crime: closer examination shows us there is more to people than meets the eye.
263 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
4 people are currently reading
371 people want to read
About the author
Cristovão Tezza
44Ìýbooks46ÌýfollowersCristovão Tezza nasceu em Lages, Santa Catarina, em 1952, mas mudou-se para Curitiba ainda quando criança. É considerado um dos mais importantes autores da literatura brasileira contemporânea. Além de escritor, com mais de uma dezena de livros publicados, leciona na UFPR. É autor, entre outros, de Trapo, O fantasma da infância, Aventuras provisórias, Breve espaço entre cor e sombra (Prêmio Machado de Assis/Biblioteca Nacional de melhor romance de 1998) e O fotógrafo (prêmios da Academia Brasileira de Letras e Bravo! de melhor romance do ano). A publicação do inédito O filho eterno marca seu retorno à Record. O livro venceu os mais importantes prêmios literários do paÃs: primeiro lugar no Prêmio Portugal Telecom de Literatura em LÃngua Portuguesa, como melhor livro do ano, venceu o Prêmio Bravo! Prime de Cultura, na mesma categoria. Foi escolhido também melhor romance pela Associação Paulista dos CrÃticos de Arte (Apca) e ganhou o Jabuti de melhor romance. Além do Prêmio São Paulo de Literatura.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
September 14, 2014
"Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is not just a novel about art, it's a surrealist painting.
It's easy, even facile, to compare literature to painting (after all, the Romantics seem closely aligned in both genres). However, literature resists the pull toward hyper-modernity. Jackson Pollack can randomly flick paint onto the canvas, but an author can't write a book by hitting random keys (not yet anyway... I may have just found my avante-garde bestseller). If you want a modern book for modern art, surrealism is the best avenue. Look at a Dali or a Magritte. These are not formless blobs of color or haphazard Rorschach splotches. There are clocks and apples and clouds, and these images are recognizable. And yet, even if we don't have orcas diving out of chess boards or elephants evolving into tubas, there is still a profound weirdness to the canvas. Remove the melting clocks from "Persistence of Memory," and you're still wandering through a dreamscape.
"Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is a weird, surreal book. If you want to make a Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ shelf of "Books that Need to be Read while High," this should be top of the list. The story switches back and forth between two points of view. Tato Simonne, an aspiring painter, meets two strange people at his mentor's funeral and somehow finds himself agreeing to steal a Modigliani head. This narrative is interrupted by excerpts of an apparently novel-length letter written to Tato by an Italian woman he toured the Met with. Tato's sections are filled with gang violence, family tension, and a seductive woman who may be a vampire, but he drifts through the fear while contemplating the precise brushstroke of his paintings. The unnamed Italian is, in theory, recounting her separation from her husband, but the bulk of her letter is a whimsical reflection on life and art.
If I haven't been clear, "Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is light on plot. I'm not intending that to be a critique. The actual plot, Tato trying to steal a possibly fake sculpture, feels as if it has been shoehorned into a loose, gauzy narrative.
My main critique of this book (and the reason for the missing star) is simple. "Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is a smart book, but not nearly as smart as it thinks it is.
Other Goodreaders have been bothered by the gratuitous name-dropping of obscure modern artists. I considered this just part of the world-building, but I was bothered by the lengthy analyses of Tato's paintings. We obviously can't see this work, so when a renowned art dealer spends four pages critiquing the minutiae of a painting, Tezza all but invites the reader to step back and admire his brilliance.
The ethereal letters from the Italian are excellent, but they never integrate with the main narrative. Worst of all, anyone who is paying attention should see the parallels between painting and writing. However, Tezza has to make the apparent painfully obvious by including numerous similes about writing, books, and the joy of reading. Yes sir, we got the picture. You're being very meta.
The book is well-written, and I completely bought the characterizations. In particular, I like how "the vampire" and the art dealer, two figures who seem almost god-like at the book's start, gradually devolve into pathetic humans. The story itself is obviously a complete disappointment, but in a surrealist book like this, you really can't expect much of a plot. The only weak note for me was Tato's voice. This might have been a difficulty in translation, but it felt off-key for me. The slang and over-abundant rhetorical questions felt false. When Tato went off into an interior monologue, I could feel Cristovao Tezza, uncomfortably close.
I received a free copy of this book through First Reads in exchange for an honest review.
It's easy, even facile, to compare literature to painting (after all, the Romantics seem closely aligned in both genres). However, literature resists the pull toward hyper-modernity. Jackson Pollack can randomly flick paint onto the canvas, but an author can't write a book by hitting random keys (not yet anyway... I may have just found my avante-garde bestseller). If you want a modern book for modern art, surrealism is the best avenue. Look at a Dali or a Magritte. These are not formless blobs of color or haphazard Rorschach splotches. There are clocks and apples and clouds, and these images are recognizable. And yet, even if we don't have orcas diving out of chess boards or elephants evolving into tubas, there is still a profound weirdness to the canvas. Remove the melting clocks from "Persistence of Memory," and you're still wandering through a dreamscape.
"Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is a weird, surreal book. If you want to make a Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ shelf of "Books that Need to be Read while High," this should be top of the list. The story switches back and forth between two points of view. Tato Simonne, an aspiring painter, meets two strange people at his mentor's funeral and somehow finds himself agreeing to steal a Modigliani head. This narrative is interrupted by excerpts of an apparently novel-length letter written to Tato by an Italian woman he toured the Met with. Tato's sections are filled with gang violence, family tension, and a seductive woman who may be a vampire, but he drifts through the fear while contemplating the precise brushstroke of his paintings. The unnamed Italian is, in theory, recounting her separation from her husband, but the bulk of her letter is a whimsical reflection on life and art.
If I haven't been clear, "Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is light on plot. I'm not intending that to be a critique. The actual plot, Tato trying to steal a possibly fake sculpture, feels as if it has been shoehorned into a loose, gauzy narrative.
My main critique of this book (and the reason for the missing star) is simple. "Brief Space Between Color and Shade" is a smart book, but not nearly as smart as it thinks it is.
Other Goodreaders have been bothered by the gratuitous name-dropping of obscure modern artists. I considered this just part of the world-building, but I was bothered by the lengthy analyses of Tato's paintings. We obviously can't see this work, so when a renowned art dealer spends four pages critiquing the minutiae of a painting, Tezza all but invites the reader to step back and admire his brilliance.
The ethereal letters from the Italian are excellent, but they never integrate with the main narrative. Worst of all, anyone who is paying attention should see the parallels between painting and writing. However, Tezza has to make the apparent painfully obvious by including numerous similes about writing, books, and the joy of reading. Yes sir, we got the picture. You're being very meta.
The book is well-written, and I completely bought the characterizations. In particular, I like how "the vampire" and the art dealer, two figures who seem almost god-like at the book's start, gradually devolve into pathetic humans. The story itself is obviously a complete disappointment, but in a surrealist book like this, you really can't expect much of a plot. The only weak note for me was Tato's voice. This might have been a difficulty in translation, but it felt off-key for me. The slang and over-abundant rhetorical questions felt false. When Tato went off into an interior monologue, I could feel Cristovao Tezza, uncomfortably close.
I received a free copy of this book through First Reads in exchange for an honest review.
January 9, 2016
Terceiro livro do Cristovão Tezza que eu tenho a oportunidade de ler, Breve espaço me encantou de maneira que nenhum dos antecessores conseguiu. Ao ler meu primeiro livro dele, O filho eterno, provavelmente a sua obra mais aclamada, vencedora de enésimos prêmios literários e mesmo traduzido para diversas lÃnguas, encontrei uma obra de boa leitura e que me fez experimentar sensações: partilhei até certo ponto o medo e a frustração do protagonista (que me parece ter requintes autobiográficos que me aproximaram da obra), mas não me deixou encantado como fico com alguns livros. Envolveu-me até certo ponto, mas talvez uma certa ansiedade, um nervosismo resultante da temática da obra (não consegui a momento algum deixar de imaginar como deve ser difÃcil me colocar no papel daquele pai), acabou com que eu não me entregasse por completo ao livro.
Mas, afinal, essa resenha não é de O filho eterno. Só não consigo deixar de comparar as leituras que fiz do mesmo autor, mesmo estas tendo dez anos de diferença. O filho é de 2007, enquanto Breve espaço foi publicado pela primeira vez, com o tÃtulo “Breve espaço entre cor e sombraâ€�, em 1998. Cristovão Tezza decidiu por uma mudança de tÃtulo para a segunda edição, na qual ele revisitou seu eu de anos antes e deu uma polida em sua obra.
A história narrada é a de Eduardo “Tatoâ€� Simmone. Vinte e oito anos, pintor, vive do dinheiro da mãe (negociadora de artes em Nova York), dono de um apartamento respeitável e uma garagem improvisada em ateliê em Curitiba. Após a morte de seu antigo mentor, AnÃbal Marsotti, com o qual Tato já não tinha tanto contato, ele precisa de um novo “mestreâ€�: um referencial, alguém que esteja disposto a ver e discutir, criticar suas obras, colocá-lo como sua referência. Ele nunca conseguiu viver sem um mentor, e agora pode encontrá-lo na figura do misterioso marchand Richard Constantin, um senhor, velho e boa-pinta, com uma reputação deveras suspeita que lhe precede. Ao mesmo tempo, é abordado no próprio enterro de seu antigo colega, por uma mulher, pálida de cabelos bem pretos, que lhe diz que AnÃbal sempre o apreciou como amigo e pintor. E já diz Constantin: cuidado, ela é uma vampira, e como fez com Marsotti, sugar-lhe-á o sangue até a última gota.
Mais em Ad lectorem:
Mas, afinal, essa resenha não é de O filho eterno. Só não consigo deixar de comparar as leituras que fiz do mesmo autor, mesmo estas tendo dez anos de diferença. O filho é de 2007, enquanto Breve espaço foi publicado pela primeira vez, com o tÃtulo “Breve espaço entre cor e sombraâ€�, em 1998. Cristovão Tezza decidiu por uma mudança de tÃtulo para a segunda edição, na qual ele revisitou seu eu de anos antes e deu uma polida em sua obra.
A história narrada é a de Eduardo “Tatoâ€� Simmone. Vinte e oito anos, pintor, vive do dinheiro da mãe (negociadora de artes em Nova York), dono de um apartamento respeitável e uma garagem improvisada em ateliê em Curitiba. Após a morte de seu antigo mentor, AnÃbal Marsotti, com o qual Tato já não tinha tanto contato, ele precisa de um novo “mestreâ€�: um referencial, alguém que esteja disposto a ver e discutir, criticar suas obras, colocá-lo como sua referência. Ele nunca conseguiu viver sem um mentor, e agora pode encontrá-lo na figura do misterioso marchand Richard Constantin, um senhor, velho e boa-pinta, com uma reputação deveras suspeita que lhe precede. Ao mesmo tempo, é abordado no próprio enterro de seu antigo colega, por uma mulher, pálida de cabelos bem pretos, que lhe diz que AnÃbal sempre o apreciou como amigo e pintor. E já diz Constantin: cuidado, ela é uma vampira, e como fez com Marsotti, sugar-lhe-á o sangue até a última gota.
Mais em Ad lectorem:
September 27, 2014
"Death changes nothing; it simply reveals."
Tato Simmone's life turns inside out and upside down as he watches his estranged mentor, the painter Anibal Marsotti, eulogized into the ground.
He had been feeling a need for a change, something, anything. "I was stupid, gross, and spoiled--an awkward man. I wasn't even a man exactly. Just a small project. A work in progress."
Tato's life has no foundation or direction, yet his core is crowded and deep. Uncertain of his artistic possibilities, he nevertheless knows that painting is where he is his best and most complete self. He lives in his head, often speaking aloud his inner dialogues and perplexing those present: the words seem unconnected to any action or conversation taking place.
I identify with that invisible and meandering interior life completely, the sudden awakening to the words and scenes that you have missed as you followed images and a train of thought completely unrelated to your inhabited space and time. It can lead to confusion in making the proper connections.
Tato must let go of the person he has been. He falls apart as he is sucker-punched, manipulated and abandoned. All he has constructed is destroyed. "I felt a weird pain, not the pain of someone who has lost something, but the pain of someone who never had it..."
The author does not clean up the mess for Tato, or for the reader.
"A painting is what remains after a great number of rejections, and what remains winds up not resembling anything, and that is difficult to accept."
Tato Simmone's life turns inside out and upside down as he watches his estranged mentor, the painter Anibal Marsotti, eulogized into the ground.
He had been feeling a need for a change, something, anything. "I was stupid, gross, and spoiled--an awkward man. I wasn't even a man exactly. Just a small project. A work in progress."
Tato's life has no foundation or direction, yet his core is crowded and deep. Uncertain of his artistic possibilities, he nevertheless knows that painting is where he is his best and most complete self. He lives in his head, often speaking aloud his inner dialogues and perplexing those present: the words seem unconnected to any action or conversation taking place.
I identify with that invisible and meandering interior life completely, the sudden awakening to the words and scenes that you have missed as you followed images and a train of thought completely unrelated to your inhabited space and time. It can lead to confusion in making the proper connections.
Tato must let go of the person he has been. He falls apart as he is sucker-punched, manipulated and abandoned. All he has constructed is destroyed. "I felt a weird pain, not the pain of someone who has lost something, but the pain of someone who never had it..."
The author does not clean up the mess for Tato, or for the reader.
"A painting is what remains after a great number of rejections, and what remains winds up not resembling anything, and that is difficult to accept."
August 1, 2014
There was a heavy reference to art and various styles of painting which I just did not understand thus found it difficult to enjoy this book.
October 28, 2014
I received this book as a giveaway from Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ.
When I first started thinking about the experience of reading this book, I thought maybe I just don't get South American authors. Awhile ago when Roberto Bolano became the thing everyone had to read I picked up his Savage Detectives. I usually have a hard and fast rule about finishing every book I start, but I just could not make myself get through Savage Detectives. On the other hand, I have read several novels by Isabel Allende and enjoyed them very much so it doesn't seem fair to write off a whole continent.
The experience I had reading this book, by a Brazilian author, was very similar to the experience I had reading Savage Detectives, although I made it through this one because of its relatively shorter length. As with Savage Detectives, the plot of this book was meandering and leading to no where. The main character was not particularly likeable. Tezza spends lots of time setting up a mysterious relationship with an Italian woman, and a plan surrounding a forged piece of art, but none of it goes anywhere. When I read this kind of book, a part of me wonders if maybe I'm just not smart enough to appreciate it....maybe there is a big metaphorical point I am missing. But maybe not.
The thing I did enjoy about this book was the discussions about various artists' work, and art in general sprinkled throughout the book. The main character is an artist, who is the son of an art dealer, who is mourning the loss of his artistic mentor and who is investigating a relationship with a new art dealer. As someone who studied art history and really loves the experience of thinking about art, I appreciated some of the insights provided by these conversations about art.
When I first started thinking about the experience of reading this book, I thought maybe I just don't get South American authors. Awhile ago when Roberto Bolano became the thing everyone had to read I picked up his Savage Detectives. I usually have a hard and fast rule about finishing every book I start, but I just could not make myself get through Savage Detectives. On the other hand, I have read several novels by Isabel Allende and enjoyed them very much so it doesn't seem fair to write off a whole continent.
The experience I had reading this book, by a Brazilian author, was very similar to the experience I had reading Savage Detectives, although I made it through this one because of its relatively shorter length. As with Savage Detectives, the plot of this book was meandering and leading to no where. The main character was not particularly likeable. Tezza spends lots of time setting up a mysterious relationship with an Italian woman, and a plan surrounding a forged piece of art, but none of it goes anywhere. When I read this kind of book, a part of me wonders if maybe I'm just not smart enough to appreciate it....maybe there is a big metaphorical point I am missing. But maybe not.
The thing I did enjoy about this book was the discussions about various artists' work, and art in general sprinkled throughout the book. The main character is an artist, who is the son of an art dealer, who is mourning the loss of his artistic mentor and who is investigating a relationship with a new art dealer. As someone who studied art history and really loves the experience of thinking about art, I appreciated some of the insights provided by these conversations about art.
November 27, 2014
Full disclosure: I received this book through the First Reads program here on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ.
This book was...Not impressive. I think the best word to describe it is "lackluster." It spent a lot of time trying to impress you while vehemently swearing that it did not care what you thought of it. There's no real plot and no real resolution, which is fine as long as it's a really character-driven story. Except...the characters are two-dimensional and boring, nothing happens, and everything stays pretty close to where it started. I feel like Tato was sort of having some realizations during the course of the novel, except the realizations were mostly centered around how badly cocaine fucks people up. Also, I was led to believe there would be more artistic references in this novel, as it is a book about art, but there really isn't. I'm an art/art history buff, so that would have been the only thing that could have saved this book for me. It was just a disappointment on all fronts.
This book was...Not impressive. I think the best word to describe it is "lackluster." It spent a lot of time trying to impress you while vehemently swearing that it did not care what you thought of it. There's no real plot and no real resolution, which is fine as long as it's a really character-driven story. Except...the characters are two-dimensional and boring, nothing happens, and everything stays pretty close to where it started. I feel like Tato was sort of having some realizations during the course of the novel, except the realizations were mostly centered around how badly cocaine fucks people up. Also, I was led to believe there would be more artistic references in this novel, as it is a book about art, but there really isn't. I'm an art/art history buff, so that would have been the only thing that could have saved this book for me. It was just a disappointment on all fronts.
June 28, 2016
I like the title and as the blurb sounds like it could be a mystery sort of novel, I’d thought it might just be to my liking. I really do love the description of the book but the book did not deliver. Tato was not particularly likeable nor did he feel real –I wonder whether he feels he’s real either as he appears to only be flitting here and around about. The alternate perspective told in the snippets of letters was actually more interesting but we were left to assume what’s happened to the letter writer.
This was a frustrating read; a very slow story and a somewhat dissatisfying and mystifying ending. Plus, there was no chapter-structure! I hate having to stop reading in the middle of a chapter so this drove me mad (being a mother of 2 young boys & working part time, I do not have the time for a single-sitting-read). There were some gaps (in the forms of spaces and ***) but that did not provide the correct ‘stop� sign for me. I’m just so glad it’s over!
This was a frustrating read; a very slow story and a somewhat dissatisfying and mystifying ending. Plus, there was no chapter-structure! I hate having to stop reading in the middle of a chapter so this drove me mad (being a mother of 2 young boys & working part time, I do not have the time for a single-sitting-read). There were some gaps (in the forms of spaces and ***) but that did not provide the correct ‘stop� sign for me. I’m just so glad it’s over!
October 1, 2014
Blergh, what a bust! I was hoping for something vaguely art or painting-oriented, instead this is part stream of conscious letter from a suicidal Roman art critic/art historian, the self-deluded ramblings of a failed painter who is simultaneously obsessed with the Italian critic and a "vampire"-like cocaine addict, and dabbling with hookers and a questionable art dealer...all set in 3 days following his best frenemy's funeral.
I am hoping something was lost in translation from the original Portugese, although the translator also has The Alchemist on his resume, so I doubt it. This is just a poorly written book about completely disagreeable characters who are drowning in their own self-pitying privileged. I was annoyed from about page 4 onward.
Yawn.
I am hoping something was lost in translation from the original Portugese, although the translator also has The Alchemist on his resume, so I doubt it. This is just a poorly written book about completely disagreeable characters who are drowning in their own self-pitying privileged. I was annoyed from about page 4 onward.
Yawn.
July 21, 2014
Não é um grande livro, esperava bem mais.
October 14, 2014
Me arrependo um pouco de ter lido a versão em inglês. Acho que muitas sutilezas se perderam na tradução. No mais, foi um livro muito difÃcil de ler até o fim por sua arrogância e presunção.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.