Henrique Schneider on literature's power to hold a torch for justice

In an interview with Al Majalla, the Brazilian novelist and lawyer speaks about the role intellectuals can play in promoting human rights and why anyone with a conscience should support Palestine

Al Majalla

Henrique Schneider on literature's power to hold a torch for justice

Two-thirds of the way into a trilogy covering the widespread rights abuses of Brazil’s darkest chapter, Henrique Schneider says he wants to highlight what happened because so few of today’s younger Brazilian generation know about it.

A lawyer for Brazilian unions who writes about dictatorship in his limited spare time, Schneider’s first book of the trilogy is set in 1970, when he would have been seven years of age. Although the torture of the government’s political opponents often took place in clandestine prisons, time has revealed what happened.

The novels have common themes but can be read alone, says Schneider, the son of a university professor and a congressman who has now won some of Brazil’s top literary awards. He spoke to Al Majalla about life, law, literature, and the danger of history being allowed to repeat itself. This is the conversation.


Your literary works demonstrate an interest in identity, memory, and justice. Was this influenced by your study and practice of law?

I’ve been a lawyer for workers’ unions for more than three decades. It’s a very specific area of law, and it means that, in my work as a lawyer, I’ve always defended the worker’s side, it’s world vision, so it’s not just a profession; it’s a job with commitment. Of course, seeing the world in this way has influenced my writing and still does. It doesn’t mean it has to be an objective influence. It comes naturally.

My lawyer’s life, in a certain way, also lives in my literature, but only as a way of thinking, and of seeing life and world, never as a language—it is too pompous and stilted. The language of literature is far richer and more colourful than the language of the law.

Your novel, 1970, which has been translated into Arabic, is the first novel in your Dictatorship trilogy. Can you share more about this project?

1970 won the Paraná Prize of Literature. It’s published in Egypt, Indonesia and Italy, and its rights are already sold to Türkiye and Colombia. The book’s title refers to a year that was one of the heaviest in terms of repression in Brazil, but was also the year when Brazil won the Football World Cup in Mexico. The book links these two. It is about torture, which was widespread in the Brazilian civil-military dictatorship of 1964 to 1985.

The second book of the trilogy, The Loneliness of Tomorrow, tells the story of a 21-year-old man in his journey to political exile, following threats over his participation in the students’ resistance movement. During this period, the government’s opponents were often pursued, prosecuted, jailed or killed, so many were forced into exile.

The third book, which is about censorship, is still being written. These are three independent novels, but they share some common ingredients: they all happen between 1970-1972, the deepest period of repression; they all have common people as protagonists; and they are all based on real events. I decided to write this trilogy because Brazil discusses this period less than it should. Young people know almost nothing about it. I believe we should talk more, not forget it, and this will help avoid it being repeated.

The novel centres on a young man wrongfully arrested following an assassination attempt on the US ambassador to Brazil. It portrays his mother’s desperate search for him and depicts scenes of torture as authorities try to extract a confession. How were you able to write these intense scenes, and are they based on real events?

All three novels are based on real facts. My writer’s hand just fictionalised it a little. There was torture during this period, torture classes in clandestine prisons, and a plan to kidnap the US consul in my state—it failed. So, everything in the book happened. I just had to put it all together and write.

You asked about the mother's desperate search for her son. In this novel, the mother also symbolises the evil effects of dictatorship and repression of normal people who were not involved in politics and who may even have felt alienated about what was happening in the country at this time.

Intellectuals can play an important role in defending human rights by relaying knowledge that exposes injustices and by questioning mainstream narratives

Brazilian novelist Henrique Schneider

The novel opens with the Brazilian minister of justice declaring that "there is no torture in Brazil".

Yes, my publisher and I thought it was by far the best phrase to start the novel, firstly because the statement is wrong, secondly because the minister knew it was a lie, and thirdly because it perfectly showed the official hypocrisy of this time.

Interestingly, there is a novel titled 1970 by the acclaimed Egyptian novelist Sonallah Ibrahim, which is also closely linked to politics and history. How did you feel when you discovered this connection?

Even though I can't read it (it is an Egyptian edition), I have a copy of this 1970 autographed by Sonallah Ibrahim. Knowing a bit about Sonallah's history as a writer and activist, I shared a conference with him at the Cairo Literature Festival and said how honoured and emotional I was.

Maybe the books are related, or perhaps they are distant brothers. I don't know, but I hope they are. And then I remember a phrase of the North American writer Willa Cather: 'There are just two or three human stories that keep repeating themselves so fiercely, as if they had never happened before.'

What inspires you most in writing: reality or fiction?

As I'm a lawyer, I don't have a lot of time to write. Writing requires a lot of work discipline. By the time I get home and get dressed, I change into my writer's clothes—figuratively, of course. I don't write every day. It's hard work. I try to get in the right mood, thinking about what I'm going to write, read or research. In answer to your question, reality inspires me more than fiction.

Gaza has been transformed into a concentration camp. There is no choice but to support Palestine, especially when you see who's supporting the other side.

Brazilian novelist Henrique Schneider

Which writers have influenced you?

I read a lot, in a non-organised way, so I read lots of writers and it's difficult to say I've been influenced by this one or that one. I probably have influences that I don't even know. I always read the writers of the so-called Latin-American boom, like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Mario Vargas Llosa—mainly his first novels—Mario Benedetti and Alejo Carpentier, for example.

Right now, I'm reading mostly female and African authors, including those from the Maghreb. I'm not sure how it influences me, but it certainly does.

Is Brazilian literature adequately represented in the global literary scene?

It's less represented worldwide than it should be. Brazilian literature is rich and colourful, with a lot of great authors. It really should be more widely known in the literary world.

Since the onset of the genocide in Gaza, you have expressed your unwavering support for the Palestinian cause. What motivated you to do so?

First, we have to say that to support Gaza and Palestine doesn't mean supporting Hamas or any kind of antisemitism. I read a book by Alexandra Coelho Pontes, a Portuguese journalist, called Gaza is Everywhere. There are Palestinians in Brazil, Portugal, Egypt, the US, everywhere. It's a question of sovereignty and dignity. Palestine has fought for its sovereignty for years and years

Today, we see the situation in Gaza, of its destruction, the starvation, and the maimed children. Where is their childhood? We see ethnic cleansing, forced displacement, suffering, and uncertainty. Gaza has been transformed into a concentration camp. There is no other choice than to support Palestine, especially when you see who's supporting the other side...

Maggy Donaldson / AFP
Demonstrators march during the "Palestine to Africa- Palestinian Liberation is Black Liberation" protest in New York on November 5, 2023.

How do you see the role of intellectuals today in defending human rights and freedom?

I'll answer from a non-intellectual perspective, because as a writer, I'm more of a storyteller than anything else. An intellectual is a voice, but often much more than that. An intellectual's voice can offer knowledge and ideas that promote social changes, expose injustices and question mainstream narratives. In this way, intellectuals may play an important role in defending human rights and freedom. It's an intellectual role, but it's also maybe even more of a citizenship role.

How can literature serve as a means of resistance or solidarity?

I used to believe in the social role of literature, its potential to change things, but living and writing in a country where reading is not a priority means literature holds less importance than I would like. That said, it also has great importance. I believe in books. We live in a very rapid world. Everything must be quick, including us. It's tiresome. Reading a book is a small but necessary pause in the midst of this confusion.

A book demands its own time. Ultimately, it's time for yourself, and this is already a victory. When a book can open worlds, wow. As a friend of mine often says, 'every life is an entire world'. In this way, I always remember a Brazilian tribal saying: when you run too fast, sometimes you have to stop, so your soul can catch up.' It's beautiful and wise.

Your latest novel will be released next month. Is it the third part of the trilogy?

No. The third part of the trilogy will be released next year. I'm still working on it, rewriting and correcting here and there. My next book will be released in September, called A Memória das Rosas (The Roses Memoir). It's just a delicate love story.

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