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O visconde partido ao meio, publicado originalmente em 1952, veio a compor com O cavaleiro inexistente e O barão nas árvores uma trilogia a que Italo Calvino (1923-85) chamou de Os nossos antepassados, uma espécie de árvore genealógica do homem contemporâneo, alienado, dividido, incompleto. É a história de Medardo di Terralba, o voluntarioso visconde que, na defesa da cristandade contra os turcos, leva um tiro de canhão no peito, mas sobrevive, ficando absurdamente partido ao meio. A metade direita atormentada pela maldade, e a esquerda, pela bondade. "Ainda bem que a bala de canhão dividiu-o apenas em dois", comentam aliviadas suas vítimas.
116 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1952
The Viscount Medardo had heard that in those parts a flight of storks was thought a good omen; and he wanted to seem pleased at the sight. But in spite of himself he felt worried.
‘What can draw such birds to a battlefield, Kurt?’ he asked.
‘They eat human flesh too nowadays,’ replied the squire, ‘since the fields have been stripped, by famine and the rivers dried by drought. Vultures and crows have now given place to storks and flamingos and cranes.’
Pulling away the sheet, there lay the Viscount’s body, horribly mutilated. It not only lacked an arm and leg, but the whole thorax and abdomen between that arm and leg had been swept away by the direct hit. All that remained of the head was one eye, one ear, one cheek, half a nose, half a mouth, half a chin and half a forehead; the other half of the head was just not there. The long and short of it was that exactly half of him had been saved, the right part, perfectly preserved, without a scratch on it except for that huge slash separating it from the left-hand part, which had been blown away.
‘I was whole and all things were natural and confused to me, stupid as the air; I thought I was seeing all and it was only the outside rind. If you ever become a half of yourself, and I hope you do for your own sake, my boy, you’ll understand things beyond the common intelligence of brains that are whole. You’ll have lost half of yourself and of the world, but the remaining half will be a thousand times deeper and more precious. And you also would find yourself wanting everything to be halved like you, as there’s beauty and knowledge and justice only in what’s been cut to shreds.’













