An ancient project

It was the first time Berenice came to me, asking me to tell her story. I saw this short-tempered young girl, dressed as a shepherdess, looking at me from… Cappadocia in the 4th century! Just like this, with all the details. I spent a few days puzzled by that image, but I ended up letting go (nowadays when an author explains that she or he talks to a character, I fully believe it!).

Then, Berenice teases me again. "Come," she said, "I'm going to tell you about an unexpected encounter that changed my life." And this time I see the teenage shepherdess next to an old man, looking at me with her deep dark eyes. Both seemed determined and I had no choice but to listen to their story. Right there I wrote the first chapter of Berenice of Cappadocia.

Hence came marriage, graduation, children, moving to France, back to Brazil and so many other things that engulf the days, until days become years. But Berenice was always there, in a little corner of my mind, growing old just like me.

Two years ago, we decided to return to France. I left the job I had at the time and made a decision: the time to write has come, Two years ago, we decided to return to France. I was ready for the full story of Berenice, ready for listening to what she had to tell me and share her story with whoever would listen.

It took me around fifteen years of waiting, but now I see they were essential for me to better understand where I was going. I wanted to induce the readers to travel to Ancient Rome, in this amazing and enigmatic land that is Cappadocia. And through this trip, each one could find value in their own story. Because, you see, like the anonymous mass composed by me, you and so many others, Berenice wasn’t a hero neither. Nothing in her world is magical. She hasn’t had a call for heroism. But in her own way, making her choices and facing all odds, she had an extraordinary life. And if in all her simplicity her story is amazing, believe me, so is yours.

Why the “no hero's journey”?

Human culture has been navigating the hero's journey for approximately 2700 years. Twenty-seven centuries ago we were introduced to the Iliad and Odyssey and the names of Achilles, Odysseus, Telemachus, Paris and Hector - among so many others - entered our vocabularies (who never discovered the “Achilles’ heel” of someone or something? ).

When the first young man received the first mystical call, we became witnesses to an endless line of heroes who left their home, found a mentor, discovered possessing an exceptional power, faced many dangers, fell, rose, defeated their enemies to finally return home, triumphantly, now recognized in all their hero splendor (whew!); since then, this cycle has been perpetuated in all arts.

It was in 1949 that Joseph Campbell coined the expression "the Hero's journey" or monomyth. In Modern Times, this narrative structure is as ubiquitous as if it had just been invented.

The characteristic of this “Hero's journey” that has always catched my attention is the recognition of their peers. It is not enough to have a “brave heart”, “great powers and great responsibilities”: at the moment that the hero starts his odyssey, he is mistreated, scorned and often lonely. It is only when he saves precisely those who despised him that everything changes, and he is now invested with all possible qualities of a hero (until the next quest starts all over again).

Even the juvenile audience is a consumer of this narrative. A queen of ice, pandas who are masters in martial arts, a young woman who dresses as a man to face the Hun army, a little boy who ends up facing the greatest wizard of all time ... films, books and comic books, among other manifestations of narratives are saturated with the same message: to have value and a worthwhile life, you must be a hero.

When I started to delineate the first outlines of Berenice, many possibilities of plot passed through my head. Being a fan of the hero's journey theme and fantastic literature myself, I considered something great for her.

But, the more the story of Berenice of Cappadoce got clear for me, the more the heroic model bothered me and I asked myself “what is the point of my story?”. When I finish reading a monomyth or fantastic book, I feel a mixture of excitement and frustration. While I read The Kingkiller Chronicle (Patrick Rothfuss, by DAW/Penguin Books), every time Kvothe's talent allowed him a genius way of solving his problems, I would vibrate in “wow’s” and “phew’s”, for later tell myself that there has never been and will never be anyone like that; and there my identification with the character wavered. This was even more striking during my adolescence and youth. After all, do we only have value when we do something great?

When a child is bullied at school, it is not expecting him to do something extraordinary, that causes admiration in his bullies, that things will work out. It is not possible to pay attention to the forgotten of society only when they have heroic acts, like saving puppies from drowning or returning wallets full of money to they owners. Hero's journeys are very beautiful stories of overcoming and courage but even in times of social overexposure, mostly of time no one is interested in our daily battles. We often just sit and cry over our own losses, not knowing what to do.

For this very reason, Berenice is out of the mold of the Hero's journey. Nothing in her is extraordinary, nothing about her is such: no such beauty, no such intelligence, no such kindness, or courage, none of these attributes are fulgurant in her. If she lived today, she would be the girl next door, or the lady in line at the supermarket. She did not change the course of history. Not even a butterfly effect applies to her story. For as long as she lived, her very existence will only make a difference to those with whom she have lived with. For an estimated population between 60 and 70 million people in her lifetime, the impact of Berenice's existence is nil.

Now you must be asking yourself "but why then write a book about someone so boring". The reason is very simple: for me the simple fact of being alive is extraordinary! Every day, throughout our lives, we are faced with so many situations that require effort and determination from us. I had the chance to meet many unknown but extraordinary people, whose lives deserved to be narrated in a book, but who don't even realize how fantastic they are.

In her own way, Berenice also has a journey that is worth telling. It is a historical novel in which you will be transported to the times of the Roman Empire of the 3rd century. In Berenice of Cappadoce: the no hero's journey the reader will find all the elements that make shine the thread of life. Drama, suspense, romance, friendship and other things are in the book. But all of this is extraordinarily common.

And that is the reason this story is within everyone's reach.

PS: although the word heroine exists in the English language, the term non-hero was chosen precisely to emphasize everything the book is opposed to. But that's a topic for another conversation!

Time doesn't stop

Time does not exist!

That was how the History Theory teacher started his first class, in the first semester of History in college . Time is a fixed element, we are the ones who move around it. Earth's spacetime, Einstein said, can be warped, or even twisted by the rotation of other planets: time is relative.

Italian physicist Carlo Rovelli explains that time is faster at the top of a mountain, and slower at sea level. Time! Those who, like me, live with cats and watch them, maybe like me, sometimes wonder if cats notice time passing by, and if they do, does it makes any difference for them? My guess is that they neither notice nor care, given the time they spend sleeping, very pleased with their way of life.

Time, an endless flow, a river where we are launched at the moment we become aware of our existence and which we don't know if we will ever leave. Because it’s probably impossible to imagine existence without time. It’s the tick of the clock and the little square marks on calendars that determines the swing of our lives. We have long since distanced ourselves from the clues nature gives us to guide ourselves. And even in nature, the cycles are repeated, whereas in our calendars each cycle is increased by one year, and one year is different from the other, which distances us more and more from the past. We are constantly referring to events that took place in the year such or such, celebrating centenaries, decades and even reserving bottles of wine for this or that "special" year.

But lately, "the time has been strange". For those who are in confinement, time is long, or is being wasted. Time is money. Time is a present. The time of the elders that seems to drag on, but is precious - is confronted with the time of youth, eager to keep going with, because they have “all the time in the world”

Interestingly, it is the current time that counts. It is the vertical time, the now, immediately. We ignore this stretched line that connects humans from all ages, past and future, becoming essentially concerned with the present time. We ignore the difficulties that our ancestors faced, similar to what we now experience, but with much less recourse at the time. But we also ignore how those who come after us will face this kind of problem.

We managed to conceptualize the idea of ​​infinity, but we are unable to imagine what is something that never ends (if I tell you that a type of lottery in the United States, the Powerball, has already awarded only three people with 1.586 billion dollars, can you imagine what does it means in financial terms?), and this seems to create a paradox: we cannot imagine the end of time, the before and the after, because they are too distant rom us, and for this very reason we cling to the “present time”.

24/24h retained in our homes; and even those who have to leave for work, 24/24 restrained to a limited travel circuit. Some desperately attached themselves to directives dates, believing in a magical calendar in which, on a precise, announced day, everything will be as it was before, anxious for the control of time.

But the fact is that the days are now repeating themselves following the rhythm of nature, as it seems that the calendars have lost their meaning a bit, since nobody knows what will come in the next weeks or months, even less the next two years. What now makes sense as hours go by is the sunrise and sunset, the leaves on the trees, which birds are singing and the weather outside. Those who have a newborn baby at home can watch, tenderly amazed, I hope - the astonish evolution that happens from one day to the next.

I wonder if this traumatic event will cause any kind of rupture or if, once the definitive treatment or the long awaited vaccine is announced, we will return to the calendars. Perhaps this depends on our ability to appreciate the lifetime. And even that appreciation depends on what time makes of us. For those who have lost loved ones, who are alone, who work today to pay for yesterday's bread, it may be that the time that remains is indifferent or painful. But for those who have everything they cherish - family and friends close by, a generous table, health up to date - this may be the chance to no longer feel swept away by the river of time, but to let yourself be absorbed by it, flow with what time offers. Perhaps then, when we and time are one, its concept will no longer make difference and it will cease to exist, Time, and we will then be free from the fear of losing it.