26/04/2023

Folha: The relationship between mathematics and emotion.

Reproduction of Marcelo Viana's column in Folha de S. Paulo.

I believe that, for most people, few things seem more dissonant than emotions and theorems. On one hand, art, an expression of human subjectivity; on the other, mathematics, the realm of abstract objectivity. But those of us who live mathematics know that these two works of the human spirit have much in common, and several writers have intuited this fact.

In "The Professor 's Beloved Formula ," by Japanese novelist Yoko Ogawa (1962), the relationships between the characters are catalyzed by mathematics. The Professor, an elderly university lecturer, has lost his recent memory due to an accident; the Caregiver, who "hated mathematics since her school days" but grows fond of the old master of the subject; and her 10-year-old son, whom the Professor affectionately nicknames Root, "because of his flat head that resembled the √ symbol for square root."

Their shared love of mathematical problems brings them closer, forming a poignant triangle. Upon solving her first problem, the mother discovers an emotion no mathematician can forget. "I then felt a magic I had never experienced in my life. A gust of wind swept across the desolate desert where I found myself, and a virgin path opened before my eyes. I knew at that moment that I had received the blessing called inspiration."

A reader drew my attention to " The Seven Messengers ," a collection of short stories by the Italian writer Dino Buzzati (1906–1972). In the title story, the prince leaves the capital to explore the kingdom, believing he would reach its farthest reaches in a few weeks. "Instead, I kept finding new people and places; and everywhere men who spoke my language, who called themselves my subjects," he exclaims in astonishment.

To maintain communication with the capital, he chose his seven best horsemen: they ride 60 leagues a day, while the entourage only travels 40 leagues. He dispatches the first messenger, Alessandro, at the end of the second day, and from then on one is always sent at the first opportunity. But Alessandro only returns on the tenth day, and as the group moves further away from the capital, the messengers' journeys become increasingly longer.

Nine years have passed, and the fourth messenger, Domenico, has just returned, seven years after setting off on his fourth voyage. He brings letters yellowed with age, in which the prince finds forgotten names and feelings he can no longer understand. "The capital, my home, my father, have become strangely distant; I hardly believe in them anymore," he laments. Domenico will leave the next day, but it will be the last time: the fifth voyage will last 36 years, and the prince does not expect to live to see him again.

To read the full text, visit the newspaper's website.