The book is dedicated to a man Coelho met while visiting the Grotto in Lourdes, France. It turned out the man was a huge Coelho fan, as he told the latter how his novels have touched him deeply. That time Eleven Minutes was nearing publication so Coelho was worried about the man's reaction to it since his latest novel dealt with a difficult subject somehow. After getting his miraculous water from the spring, he returned to the place where the man was with his wife and granddaughter, and asked his name and address. That man is Maurice Gravelines from northern France, near Belgium.
Eleven Minutes is the story of Maria, a simple village girl from Brazil who ended up as a high-class prostitute in Switzerland. She is daughter to a traveling salesman and a seamstress who lived in a small Brazilian town where most people know each other.
Maria had her first heartbreak at age 11, after a boy whom she adored so much left town without them even having a formal conversation other than the latter borrowing a pencil from her. She somehow recovered from that and even had boyfriends the rest of her teenage years. It was also during those years that she was able to study her own sexuality, an act that gave her so much pleasure without actually having to experience it with a man inside her.
After secondary school, she earned a job in a draper's shop. Because Maria grew up to be an attractive woman, her boss was completely smitten with her and even proposed marriage to her.
While vacationing in Rio de Janeiro, Maria was offered an opportunity of a lifetime. She was told she could use her good looks to make it as a "samba star" at a nightclub in Switzerland. After serious consideration, and having asked her parents' consent upon returning to Brazil, she decided to take on the challenge.
In Switzerland things didn't turn out as she imagined though. Maria had her first paid sexual encounter after having dinner with an Arab man, whom at first she thought was a prospective agent. And that few minutes of spreading her legs earned her a thousand francs!
It was easy money. She quickly thought of buying herself a ticket back to Brazil and continue her boring life there and eventually accept her boss's marriage proposal. And yet something inside her was somehow telling her to stay a little longer and heed the chance to earn some more for herself and her parents.
And so her journey as a prostitute began. She became a "talent" at Copacabana, the most elite club in Rue de Berne, Geneva's red light district. Clients were mostly top executives around town and even from nearby countries. She earned 350 francs from every customer (50 francs of which goes to Milan, the club owner) who took her to his hotel after a drink and some dancing at the club. Every night, Maria lets an average of 3 clients inside her body, which is not bad at all since she only had to be with them for such a short time.
And because Maria was unlike the other girls from the club, her curiosity on things never ended with just the streets and the people in Switzerland. She learned French along the way and busied herself with various book titles which she borrowed from a local library.
Afraid of competition among them, Maria never had friends at Copacabana, except for Nyah, a Filipina who shared with her the secrets of the trade. This didn't bother Maria. For her stay at the club she only limited to a year, because by that time she would have saved enough money to return to Brazil and buy her parents a farm.
And why Eleven Minutes? This is a term coined by Maria for as she observed, the actual sexual act only lasts that long, as you will have to deduct the time for the taking off of clothes and the foreplay perhaps.
One day, while having a drink at a coffee shop, she met Ralf Hart, a known painter who claimed he saw a special "light" in her that he wanted to draw her image on canvas. That first encounter wasn't really a memorable one for they argued most of the time. But as Maria found herself missing Ralf more as the days go by, she became worried for it was a sacred rule in her profession not to fall in love.
She continued to entertain customers at Copacabana. A certain "special client" was able to touch her inner self, and his sadomasochist acts on Maria only made her stronger and ready to face the world.
Ralf and Maria's relationship wasn't based on sexual pleasure for they didn't do the act until their supposed last night together. Theirs was a merging of two souls, based entirely on their intellectual beliefs and great passion for each other.
While waiting for her flight, Maria was stunned to see Ralf Hart at the airport holding a bouquet of flowers for her. Typical of a love story ending, yes. But what made this closing memorable was the fact that this was a smart attempt by Coelho to do a seductive approach to a love story without his book looking like a cheap erotic novel.
This is a good read, believe me! Sensual in some pages, yet full of quotable quotes as written by Maria in her diary. I've never been a Harlequin or Silhouette fan myself, but this novel is indeed worth a try.
My favorite quotes from Eleven Minutes:
I've realised that sometimes you get no second chance and that it's best to accept the gifts the world offers you. Of course it's risky, but is the risk any greater than the chance ...If I must be faithful to someone or something, then I have, first of all, to be faithful to myself. If I'm looking for true love, I first have to get the mediocre loves out of my system. The little experience of life I've had has taught me that no one owns anything, that everything is an illusion - and that applies to material as well as spiritual things. Anyone who has lost something they thought was theirs forever (as has happened often enough to me already) finally comes to realise that nothing really belongs to them. And if nothing belongs to me, then there's no point wasting my time looking after things that aren't mine; it's best to live as if today were the first (or last) day of my life.
I'm far too lonely to think about love, but I have to believe that it will happen, that I will find a job and that I am here because I chose this fate. The roller coaster is my life; life is a fast, dizzying game; life is a parachute jump; it's taking chances, falling over and getting up again; it's mountaineering; it's wanting to get to the very top of yourself and to feel angry and dissatisfied when you don't manage it.
If I believe that the track is my destiny and that God is in charge of the machine, then the nightmare becomes something thrilling. It becomes exactly what it is, a roller coaster, a safe, reliable toy, which will eventually stop, but, while the journey lasts, I must look at the surrounding landscape and whoop with excitement.
A writer once said that it is not time that changes man, nor knowledge; the only thing that can change someone's mind is love. What nonsense! The person who wrote that clearly knew only one side of the coin. Love was undoubtedly one of the things capable of changing a person's whole life, from one moment to the next.
We live in a vale of tears...'We can have all the dreams we like, but life is hard, implacable, sad.
It's been such a long time since I thought about love or anything called love. It seems to be running away from me, as if it wasn't important any more and didn't feel welcome. But if I don't think about love, I will be nothing.
Freedom only exists when love is present. The person who gives him or herself wholly, the person who feels freest, is the person who loves most wholeheartedly. And the person who loves wholeheartedly feels free. That is why, regardless of what I might experience, do or learn, nothing makes sense. I hope this time passes quickly, so that I can resume my search for myself - in the form of a man who understands me and does not make me suffer. But what am I saying? In love, no one can harm anyone else; we are each of us responsible for our own feelings and cannot blame someone else for what we feel. It hurt when I lost each of the various men I fell in love with. Now, though, I am convinced that no one loses anyone, because no one owns anyone. That is the true experience of freedom: having the most important thing in the world without owning it.
Passion. It can be used to describe the beauty of an earth-shaking meeting between two people, but it isn't just that. It's there in the excitement of the unexpected, in the desire to do something with real fervour, in the certainty that one is going to realise a dream. Passion sends us signals that guide us through our lives, and it's up to me to interpret those signs.
Considering the way the world is, one happy day is almost a miracle.
The great aim of every human being is to understand the meaning of total love. Love is not to be found in someone else, but in ourselves; we simply awaken it. But in order to do that, we need the other person. The universe only makes sense when we have someone to share our feelings with.
Passion makes a person stop eating, sleeping, working, feeling at peace. A lot of people are frightened because, when it appears, it demolishes all the old things it finds in its path.
I've learned that waiting is the most difficult bit, and I want to get used to the feeling, knowing that you're with me, even when you're not by my side.
Profound desire, true desire is the desire to be close to someone. From that point onwards, things change. the man and the woman come into play, but what happens before - the attraction that brought them together - is impossible to explain. It is untouched desire in its purest state. When desire is still in this pure state, the man and the woman fall in love with life, they live each moment reverently, consciously, always ready to celebrate the next blessing. When people feel like this, they are not in a hurry, they do not precipitate events with unthinking actions. They know that the inevitable will happen, that what is real always finds a way of revealing itself. When the moment comes, they do not hesitate, they do not miss an opportunity, they do not let slip a single magic moment, because they respect the importance of each second.
It's enough just to love him, to be with him in my thoughts and to colour this lovely city with his steps, his words, his love.
Really important meetings are planned by the souls long before the bodies see each other. Generally speaking, these meetings occur when we reach a limit, when we need to die and be reborn emotionally. These meetings are waiting for us, but more often than not, we avoid them happening. If we are desperate, though, if we have nothing to lose, or if we are full of enthusiasm for life, then the unknown reveals itself, and our universe changes direction.
Everyone knows how to love, because we are all born with that gift. Some people have a natural talent for it, but the majority of us have to re-learn, to remember how to love, and everyone, without exception, needs to burn on the bonfire of past emotions, to relive certain joys and griefs, certain ups and downs, until they can see the connecting thread that exists behind each new encounter; because there is a connecting thread. And then, our bodies learn to speak the language of the soul, known as sex, and that is what I can give to the man who gave me back my soul, even though he has no idea how important he is to my life. That is what he asked me for and that is what he will have; I want him to be very happy.
It's true that we only know each other when we come up against our own limits, but it's wrong too, because it isn't necessary to know everything about ourselves; human beings weren't made solely to go in search of wisdom, but also to plough the land, wait for rain, plant the wheat, harvest the grain, make the bread.
Desire is not what you see, but what you imagine.
Anyone capable of feeling knows that it is possible to experience pleasure before even touching the other person. The words, the looks, all contain the secret of the dance.
Anyone who is observant, who discovers the person they have always dreamed of, knows that sexual energy comes into play before sex even takes place. The greatest pleasure isn't sex, but the passion with which it is practised. When the passion is intense, then sex joins in to complete the dance, but it is never the principal aim.
Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even when they're not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or - such is the pleasure they experience - they may never finish it. No eleven minutes for them.
Every human being experiences his or her own desire; it is part of our personal treasure and, although, as an emotion, it can drive people away, generally speaking, it brings those who are important to us closer. It is an emotion chosen by my soul, and it is so intense that it can infect everything and everyone around me. Each day I choose the truth by which I try to live. I try to be practical, efficient, professional. But I would like to be able always to choose desire as my companion. Not out of obligation, not to lessen my loneliness, but because it is good. Yes, very good.
The strongest love is the love that can demonstrate its fragility.
Anyone who practises sport knows this: if you want to achieve your objectives, you have to be prepared for a daily dose of pain or discomfort. At first, it's unpleasant and demotivating, but in time you come to realise that it's part of the process of feeling good, and the moment arrives when, if you don't feel pain, you have a sense that the exercises aren't having the desired effect.
Contrary to what my clients think, sex cannot be practised at any time. We all have a clock inside us, and in order to make love, the hands on both clocks have to be pointing to the same hour at the same time. That doesn't happen every day. If you love another person, you don't depend on the sex act in order to feel good. Two people who live together and love each other need to adjust the hands of their clocks, with patience and perseverance, games and 'theatrical representations', until they realise that making love is more than just an encounter, it is a genital 'embrace'.
The art of sex is the art of controlled abandon.
I cannot simply do nothing, pretend that everything is normal, that it's just a stage, a phase of my life. I want to forget it, I need to love - that's all, I need to love. Life is too short, or too long, for me to allot myself the luxury of living it so badly.
Certain things cannot be shared. Nor can we be afraid of the oceans into which we plunge of our own free will; fear cramps everyone's style. Man goes through hell in order to understand this. Love one another, but let's not try to possess one another.
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