Spilt Milk

This is essentially a (fictional) memoir, told piecemeal by a very old man dying in a hospital. He is at times more or less lucid, and seems to address his ramblings to different people, although it is never entirely clear who he is really talking to, if anyone. At times he realizes he is old and nearing his end, but at other times he seems to think his mother is still alive and trying to do something to improve his situation. At yet other times he complains about his daughter putting him where he is, yet sometimes says she will place him in a more suitable situation. His reflections are not sequential, sometimes repeated, and not always consistent.

The narrator comes from an aristocratic and once wealthy family, but over many years, with changes in government, changes in society, and poor choices, including by the narrator, they now appear to have nothing. But the narrator still thinks he should be treated as an aristocrat, and imagines money here or there which they will reclaim, and which will return him to an appropriate level of care.

Buarque's approach to telling the story is interesting, and forces the reader to pay attention. But the narrator isn't likable, and that makes the effort of piecing together his story less enjoyable. An elderly man dying in unfortunate circumstances is inherently sympathetic. But the narrator's arrogance and tendency to blame others for all his misfortunes make you care less about him. There are occasional flashes of introspection, but mostly he plays the victim. Yes, there is a lot about change in Brazil in this book. But at times you feel that it really is time for the narrator to pass on.