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David Machado

Portrait of David Machado

David Machado est né à Lisbonne en 1978. Il est diplômé en économie de l’ISEG,  l'Ecole d'Economie et de Gestion de Lisbonne, et s'est très vite consacré à la littérature (fiction et jeunesse).

En 2005, il a reçu le Prix Branquinho da Fonseca pour son livre pour enfants A Noite dos Animales Inventados, et en 2010, il a reçu le prix SPA/RTD dans la catégorie du meilleur livre pour la jeunesse pour O Tubarão na Banheira.

Il est l'auteur de la collection d'histoires courtes Histórias Possíveis et des nouvelles O Fabuloso Teatro do Gigante, Deixem Falar as Pedras et Índice Médio de Felicidade. Il a également écrit des livres pour enfants Os Quatro Comandantes da Cama Voadora, Um Homem Verde num Buraco Muito Fundo, A Mala Assombrada, Parece Um Pássaro et Acho Que Posso Ajudar. Il a contribué à l’oeuvre collective A Misteriosa Mulher da Ópera, Contos de Verão et O Segredo et a publié des histoires courtes dans des revues et journaux portugais et internationaux.

  • EUPL Year: 
    2015
  • EUPL Country: 

Winning Book

Indice Medio de Felicidade (Average Happiness Index)

Daniel a un plan, une espèce de journal du futur, écrit sur un carnet de notes. Parfois, il y revient pour rectifier de petites choses. Cependant la vie semble plutôt facile - et joyeuse aussi. Mais, tout à coup, tout change pour atteindre le pire. Le Portugal s'écroule et Daniel perd son emploi. Impossible désormais de payer l'hypothèque de sa maison. Sa femme, aussi au chômage, est partie avec ses enfants, à la recherche de meilleures opportunités. Ses deux meilleurs amis sont absents : l'un, Xavier, reclus dans sa maison depuis 12 ans, est obsédé par les statistiques et est absolument hanté par l’idée que le site d'aide mutuelle qu'ils ont créé ensemble soit un échec total ; l'autre, Almodovar, a été arrêté en essayant de raccommoder sa vie. Quand il pense à ses enfants et au fils d'Almodovar, Daniel cherche à comprendre quel type d'espoir reste pour les générations futures. Et il ne veut pas abandonner. Malgré la catastrophe que représente sa vie actuelle, sa volonté de tout reconstruire ne peut être ébranlée. Parce que le Présent n'a pas de sens, si on n'envisage pas un Futur.

Cover of Indice Medio de Felicidade

Publishing House

Address: 

Rua Cidade de Córdova, 2, Alfradige, Portugal

Email Address: 
Phone No.: 
+351 21 427 22 00
Organisation: 
Dom Quixote

Translation Deals

  • Albania: Botime Pegi
  • Bulgarian: Publishing House Izida Svetlana Yancheva
  • Croatia: Naklada Ljevak
  • Czech: Bourdon
  • English: Amazon Crossing
  • France: Éditions de L’Aube
  • Hungary: Kossuth Publishing
  • Italy: Neri Pozza
  • Netherlands: Uitgeverij De Geus BV 
  • North Macedonia: Antolog Books
  • Serbia: Heliks

Excerpt

Translated by Rui Vitorino Azevedo

 

“We did something wrong,” he said.

“What did we do wrong?”

“The site,” he said. “The site isn't working.”

 

Can you believe it? The guy was still trying to figure out the site. You weren't even here about half a year ago and Xavier was still worried about that shitty site. Because you put that into his head. You didn't shut up about the site for months. It was a foolproof idea. We were going to sell the business a year later with a 10,000% profit. We'd pay off the instalment loans, our children's education, lead a comfortable lifestyle, the whole film; and we were going to do something good, we were going to help people. I heard you talk about that so many times. I even started to believe it too. It seemed to be a great idea. To be honest, it still seems to me to be a great idea. But the truth is that we put money into it, money that I now need, money that might have stopped you from doing what you did, and we never saw that money again. And Xavier had all that work programming the site, weeks without sleeping, and when it was finally ready nothing happened. Months passed and still nothing happened. He was right: the site wasn't working. It's just that, well, for me it stopped being important a long time ago. But almost a year later Xavier was still trying to figure it out.

 

I didn't want to have that useless conversation, but I tried to be patient.

 

“What do you want to do?” I asked him. “We can't put more money in.”

 

He closed his laptop monitor a little and his face filled with shadows. He said:

 

“There are people using the site. The problem is that none of those people need help.”

 

In short, the problem was this: we created a social network where people who need help and people who are willing to help can meet. During the first 11 months that the site was live, 26 people signed up. Of those 26, there are 14 that never wrote anything, four that write regularly explaining that they need help jerking off, wiping their ass, cutting their toe nails, etc., three that use the site to stay in contact with each other without having ever made any request for help, and one that occasionally announces their availability to help whoever with whatever may be needed, in any place and at any time, and for that reason has a nine seater van.

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