Sketching

Hello, I’m Mauricio and this is a blog — one of many. And like many blogs, this is a sort of journal in which I jot down some thoughts about stuff.

I’ll try to keep these entries short as notes tend to be. I’m definitely not a libertarian Master of the Universe proselytizing on X. It’s definitely not my intention to add one more long text to a long list of daily articles, Substacks, Ghosts, Beehivs, Mailchimps, YouTube videos, Instagram and TikTok shorts, and hour-long WhatsApp and Facebook conspiracy theories sent by a friend who’s got a little too jumpy and gullible lately.

(I’d still be quite flattered, confused and surprised all at once if you decided to include me on that list.)

Probably one of the first public journals was Sketches by Boz, the regular columns that Charles Dickens wrote for an assortment of newspapers between 1833 and 1836. Under his nom de plume — which was in turn borrowed from his brother's moniker — Dickens wrote short pieces depicting real-life scenes and characters from Victorian London that he would encounter as a flâneur about town. Occasionally, he translated these impressions into fictional form.

Brazilians have a name for this kind of transient text: crônica (say cron-nee-kah).

In 1877, Machado de Assis wrote a cronica to explain the cronica and its birth beyond Dickens:

I cannot say for sure in what year the cronica was born; but there is every probability that it was a contemporary of the first two neighbors. These neighbors, between dinner and afternoon tea, sat at the door to discuss the day’s events. They probably began by complaining about the heat. One said she hadn’t been able to eat dinner, the other one complained that her shirt was more soaked than the herbs she had eaten. Moving from herbs to the crops of the contiguous neighbor, and then to the amorous escapades of said neighbor, and so on, was the easiest, most natural and possible thing in the world. Here are the origins of the cronica.

This natural reaction to daily events became very popular in Brazil, a staple of newspapers and later news sites. Under the strictures of the genre, the writer should never overcome his stay. Matthew Yglesias-like digressions are a no-no. Besides, any capable editor would size you down to the 500-ish word limit. When it comes to content, anything goes, from the neighbor’s amorous escapades to the latest political scandal; beyond and beneath Dickens all at the same time.

Professional cronistas might tell you that the cronica is the perfect literary genre for the dailies: they have an afterlife as fish wrap the following day. If this sounds too harsh an assessment, remember that the cronica is a sketch or a slice of life. Come to think of it, how many genres can live up so thoroughly to their description?

I am afraid I cannot offer you the fish wrap but if these posts manage to lead your thoughts astray, they have done their job.

And now to the next cronica.