Amidst persecutions, loves, and stifled ideals, Sebastian Levati’s *Ashes of Blue Mushrooms* transports the reader to São Paulo in the 1970s, when youth attempted to reinvent the country under censorship and repression. Set between 1972 and 1992, the novel follows Orlando, a young man from the countryside who abandons his family’s privileges to engage in clandestine activism, and Clarice, his love amidst fear—a relationship marked by choices, losses, and the tension of a divided Brazil. With fluid writing and symbolic characters, the work transforms a painful period of history into a reflection on courage, memory, and the marks that authoritarianism leaves on intimate and collective life.
“Ashes of Blue Mushrooms”It delves into a period marked by fear and silence. What motivated you to revisit the military dictatorship from such an intimate and emotional perspective, and not just a historical one?
The intimate approach stemmed from the need to humanize history. More than just dates and political events, the aim was to show how fear and silence permeated daily life, shaping identities and emotional relationships. Repression occurred not only in the spheres of power, but also within homes, in whispers and traumas passed down through generations, transforming historical facts into sensory and emotional experiences still present in Brazil today.
Orlando abandons privilege and comfort to follow a political calling. At some point, did this character grapple with his own personal dilemmas or those of people close to him?
Yes. Orlando’s resignation resonates with personal reflections and the experiences of those close to him. Often we remain in “golden cages”—stability and comfort that silence our own voices. I’ve seen friends face this dilemma: preserving security or risking everything for a cause. Orlando embodies this painful choice of exchanging “having” for “being” and “doing.”
The love between Orlando and Clarice blossoms on almost opposite sides of a divided country. This relationship was conceived as a metaphor for Brazil during that period—and perhaps for Brazil today?
Yes. The relationship between Orlando and Clarice was constructed as a metaphor for the contradictions of a fractured country. By transforming the historical context into a timeless reflection, the novel engages with both Brazil during the dictatorship and the polarizations of the present.
Do characters like Three-M, Dom Camilo, and Moses represent real people, archetypes of the time, or the author’s own inner voices?
They function primarily as inner voices, reflecting existential and philosophical conflicts. Although they bear traces of archetypes from the era, they should not be read as biographical figures, but as symbolic projections of a consciousness confronting repression and the desire for emancipation.
The book presents activism without romanticized heroism. Was it a conscious choice to avoid idealizing the resistance?
Yes. The choice was to portray activism in a human and realistic way. Instead of epic heroism, the narrative highlights the psychological strain, the fear, and the everyday losses. Loving, in this violent context, also becomes an act of resistance.
Can moments of tenderness and affection be as resilient as direct political action?
Yes. Preserving affection in an authoritarian regime is to maintain humanity in the face of dehumanization. These intimate moments serve as an emotional refuge and fuel for resistance, as well as challenging a sphere that repressive power cannot fully control.
When addressing the “aftermath” of the dictatorship, what reflections did you want to provoke?
The novel suggests that democracy does not emerge as a complete rupture. The “aftermath” is marked by the persistence of authoritarian structures, unhealed traumas, and the frustration of an incomplete freedom. Democracy appears as a continuous and fragile construction.
What kind of reader do you imagine you’ll find today?
The book engages with different readers: those who lived through that period and seek recognition of their memories, and those who only know it through books and desire a more sensitive understanding of the past. Its strength lies precisely in reaching these perspectives simultaneously.