To read Adolfo Caminha’s Bom-Crioulo for the first time is a startling and unforgettable experience. Originally published in 1895, the year of the Oscar Wilde trials in England, it was the first major Latin American literary work to take male homosexuality as its central theme. It was also one of the earliest Brazilian novels to have a black man of full African descent as its main character. Yet what immediately catches the attention is the detached, non-judgmental way in which the author deals with his chosen subject. Instead of Victorian moralisation there is a curious ambiguity in the novel’s treatment of issues of race, gender and sexuality, which is remarkably modern. And instead of the usual decadent or effeminate character, we have a gay hero who stands out because of his physical strength, courage and masculinity.

Bom-Crioulo tells the story of a triangular erotic relationship between a black sailor in the Brazilian navy, a young white cabin-boy and a middle-aged Portuguese landlady. Although usually attributed to the Naturalist school of Émile Zola, the novel is structured along the lines of a classical tragedy, which lends itself to a more open and reflective interpretation. It is a tale of passionate love, sexual desire, jealousy and revenge which manages to be at once both melodramatic and realistic. Bom-Crioulo is anchored in the Western literary tradition, with multiple levels of reference to classical literature, such as Shakespeare’s Othello, and contemporary European fin-de-siècle culture and politics. At the same time though, it is firmly rooted in late 19th century Brazil. It beautifully conveys the brilliant tropical sunlight and the sights, sounds and smells of Rio de Janeiro before the urban reconstruction of the early 20th century. It also provides an interesting insight into living and working conditions in the Brazilian navy at the time. Caminha, a former naval officer, was noted for his protests against flogging as a form of naval discipline.

Critics have long recognised Bom-Crioulo as a major work but have been distinctly embarrassed by its open description of a homosexual relationship. In the mid 1980s, during Mrs Thatcher’s administration, the American translation was briefly banned by H.M. Customs. In recent years, however, Bom-Crioulo has been translated into the major European languages, and it has been increasingly recognised as one of the most important 19th century Brazilian novels and as a truly great literary work in its own right.

The same day he was sent to the Fort. And as soon as the sloop, after a strong shove, pulled away from the dock, the new seaman felt his whole soul vibrate, for the first time, in an extraordinary fashion, as if the delicious coolness of some mysterious fluid had been injected into his hot African blood. Freedom poured in on him, through his eyes, his ears, his nostrils, through every pore, in short, like the very essence of light, sound, smell and of everything intangible. Everything around him: the blue plain of water singing against the sloop’s prow, the pure blue of the sky, the distant profile of the mountains, the ships rocking among the islands, the motionless houses of the receding city — even his fellow-seamen, rowing with him in measured compass, as if they were all one single arm — and above all, dear God, above all the wide, luminous expanse of the bay, in one word, the whole landscape, gave him such a strong sense of liberty and life that he really felt like crying, crying openly, frankly, before all the other men, as though he were going crazy. That magnificent sight, that landscape had burned itself into his mind forever; he would never again forget it, never again! The slave, the ‘runaway Negro’ felt he was a real man, equal to other men, happy to be a man, as big as the world itself, with all the virile strength of his youth. And he felt sorry, he felt very sorry for those who’d stayed behind on the ‘plantation’, working, working, without any salary, from crack of dawn till... God knows when!’ 38