1. Introduction: Portuguese Literary Journalism in the National and International Panorama

The study of international literary journalism has been growing considerably in recent decades, mostly due to the efforts of research groups such as the International Association for Literary Journalism Studies, founded in 2006 and the biannual Literary Journalism Studies published since 2009. Some of its renowned members, such as John Hartsock, John Bak and Bill Reynolds, have edited important works that seek to give a global view on this theme, such as, for example, Literary Journalism Across the Globe (^{Bak & Reynolds, 2011}) and the book Routledge Companion to World Literary Journalism (Bak & Reynolds, 2023). We should clarify that “literary journalism” means written investigative journalism, typically of larger dimensions and with literary content, produced through factual, incisive and rigorous reporting. As literary journalism is sometimes difficult to define even by the scholasticism dedicated to this topic⁹, perhaps the best way to approach the concept is through practical examples.

In this context, we will use the fires that afflicted Portugal in 2017 in the Castanheira de Pera area as a starting point. Several articles were written about this tragic moment in recent history, and Portuguese journalism followed this event closely to inform on this topic. While some newsrooms sought a more sensationalist approach (as was the case of the TVI channel, which the Portuguese Regulatory Authority for the Media and the Syndicate of Journalists criticised), others sought to report the tragic episode through stories close to the people there, the lives lost and the desolate scenery. An example of this can be found in the report by Ricardo ^{Marques (2017}) for the Expresso “A Estrada Mais Triste de Portugal” (The Saddest Road in Portugal). This report does not necessarily inform more than a live broadcast on television or an informative statistic, or even one of several articles published at the time. Nevertheless, the intention of this work was not this type of information but rather an effort to tell a real story that can sensitise the reader. Another example of literary journalism is Patrícia ^{Carvalho’s (2018}) book Ainda Aqui Estou (I Am Still Here). Both examples fit in this search for closeness to the event and its protagonists, something that defines literary journalism, with the result being:

stories that stay with us, and ( … ) they may even read better over time. And so, the best characterisation of literary journalism may ultimately be the definition that Ezra Pound gave for literature itself: “news that stay news”. (^{Kerrane, 1998}, p. 20)

In this sense, we can say that there is a type of journalism that follows the inverted pyramid line and is straightforward in delivering information, which is essential for day-to-day knowledge. On the other hand, a larger investigation, a report that must be written to tell a story of an event or share a perspective and whose writing is descriptive and investigative, will be closer to what we define as “literary journalism”. The book Hiroshima by John ^{Hersey (1946}), and Fractured Lands, by Scott ^{Anderson (2017}) are examples of that. Both works portray two complex events and deal with them in a close and humane approach, far from what we find in the so-called conventional journalism. The first is a report on the atomic bomb in Hiroshima, the before and after. The second addresses the development of the Arab Spring and its consequences until the migratory crisis. There are thousands of journalistic articles on both topics. However, ^{John Hersey (1946}) and ^{Scott Anderson (2017}) stand out in the coverage of both events, and their journalistic investigations can still be found in book format today. On the other hand, the various articles published in newspapers at the time about Hiroshima or the Middle East became difficult to access over time.

What makes these two examples timeless works is their focus on the human side of the story and the way they stay with us, regardless of uncovering new facts or data that complement the event in focus. ^{Hersey’s reporting (1946}), adapted from her work for The New Yorker, and ^{Anderson’s (2017}), adapted from the original for New York Times, are, as mentioned before, “news that stay news” (^{Kerrane, 1998}, p. 20). In a way, the literary journalism of these two authors reflects what can be understood as good examples of what this genre represents: a journalism that remains and leaves something with the reader through its technique and literary style, pertinence and relevance in the investigation.

Having said that, as we are closer to a definition of literary journalism, this approach will now seek to contribute to studying this reality in the national field. Although Portuguese-language literary journalism has been the focus of recent studies¹⁰, the national context and its long history still lack a more detailed study that can contribute to a more integrated and contextual view beyond focusing on a single author or a specific period. For these purposes, we will consider different moments in national history so as to highlight some of the most important Portuguese literary journalists, taking into account not only their reports but also the researchers who have already addressed this topic in previous studies.

2. Portuguese Literary Journalism and Its Origins

Studying Portuguese literary journalism allows, in this sense, to recognise and value the literary and investigative capacity of Portuguese journalists, highlighting the importance of this reporting for the history of national journalism. In this sense, and to enable a brief chronological analysis of the beginnings of Portuguese literary journalism, we will now consider the last decades of the 19th century and the first steps of national literary journalism during this period¹¹. It is important to note that, on an economic and social level, Portugal underwent clear transformations at this time that allowed unique advances in the evolution of news communication and journalism in the national field, in part, due to the development of railways, the expansion of paved streets and the implementation of the telegraph. At the same time, in economic terms, great developments took place throughout the country, so profound that Ramalho ^{Ortigão (1887}) would profess:

one could say that our parents died for us much more completely than their grandparents and great-grandparents died for them, taking with them, as they disappeared, everything that surrounded them in life: the house, the garden, the street they inhabited. (p. 160)

Even so, Portugal could not compete with the rest of Europe, reaching the end of the 19th century in a clear economic and social crisis. Interestingly, it was during this period that Portugal met an intellectual generation never seen before, known today as the “70s Generation”. Isabel ^{Soares (2011}) highlights four authors of this generation - Eça de Queirós, Ramalho Ortigão, Oliveira Martins and Jaime Batalha Reis - whose narratives, in her perspective, fall within a possible origin of Portuguese literary journalism and therefore deserve to be highlighted. Influenced by the richest nation in Europe at the time - England - these authors were inspired by fictional literature, non-fiction and English journalism. Although the influence that England had on these authors is undeniable, it is important to note that each one had a different vision of this country:

Ramalho Ortigão and Oliveira Martins described Great Britain and those who lived there as travellers who, while passing through, appreciate social phenomena ( ... ). Eça de Queirós and Jaime Batalha Reis not only told us about the experience of those who stayed in these places for a long time but also proposed an analysis of international politics. (^{Marinho, 1988}, p. 11)

Part of this fascination with England began with the influence of the Pall Mall Gazette, a publication whose irreverent and sensationalist language shocked the press at the time, partly because of its choice of topics outside the public sphere (such as the prostitution in the streets of London). The magazine was described at the time as new journalism (^{Kerrane, 1998}, p. 17)¹². Crossing borders and influencing readers, the Pall Mall Gazette would eventually impact many members of the “70s generation”. The four authors mentioned earlier are mostly known for contributing to national literature (except for Oliveira Martins). Their journalistic contributions will be considered here, particularly through the influence of journalism designed in the United Kingdom and the relationship that these authors had with reality.

From the perspective of ^{Soares (2011}), the following narratives by each author fit what we define as “literary journalism”: by Eça de ^{Queirós (2000}), the book Cartas de Inglaterra e Crónicas de Londres (Letters From England and Chronicles From London), a set of narratives from the collaboration for the newspaper A Actualidade in 1877/1878 (Cartas de Inglaterra; Letter from England) and for the Gazeta de Notícias do Rio de Janeiro in the 1880s (Crónicas de Londres; Chronicles From London); from Ramalho ^{Ortigão (1943}), John Bull: O Processo Gordon Cumming, Lord Salisbury e Correlativos Desgostos (John Bull: The Gordon Cumming Process, Lord Salisbury and Correlative Disgusts) stands out; from Jaime Batalha ^{Reis (1988}), we have his articles written in 1888 and between 1893 and 1896 for the Revista Inglesa: Crónicas (English Magazine: Chronicles), and, finally, Oliveira ^{Martins (1951}), the articles about his trip to England in 1892, published in A Inglaterra de Hoje: Cartas de um Viajante (England Today: Letters from a Traveller).

It should be noted that literary journalism, in its genesis, is deeply influenced by travel journalism and, typically, it is the result of a media construct less constrained by time and number of words, thus enabling the creation of reportage with a larger dimension. However, in this field, as ^{Soares (2011}, pp. 118-133) argues, each of these authors has in their journalistic writings a tenuous connection with facts and, in their journalistic approach, they possess an interventionist and provocative nature. It should be noted at this point that the journalistic narrative of these authors is a product of their times and the ethical code of factuality, impartiality and justice that we tend to associate with today’s quality journalism was far from the minds and practices of journalists and newsrooms at the end of the 19th century. In this sense, although it is important to mention these four authors and their contributions to the development of Portuguese journalism, it is essential to recognise the tenuous relationship between their journalistic work and the facts and the reality of the reported facts. The concept of literary journalism is something modern. Therefore, it is important to point out that this study considers the journalistic and literary contributions of these authors (and others)¹³, although, in a more recent vision of precision and rigour, their works do not necessarily fit the notion of journalism.

Now, according to ^{Siegel (2016}), literary journalism prevails in times of socio-political crisis, and the truth is that this argument also fits the Portuguese reality. Indeed, with the end of monarchy and the troubled times of the First Republic, we find more examples of literary journalism, which align with a modern definition of the genre. An example of this can be found in the reports by Hermano ^{Neves for the newspaper O Mundo during the October 1910} revolution. It is important to say that Hermano Neves was a self-proclaimed republican, and even before the revolution, he manifested this affiliation. As António ^{Ventura (1910}) points out about Hermano Neves:

in 1904 he decided to go to Germany ( ... ) [where] he worked and studied medicine ( ... ). By then, he had already embraced the republican ideal. When the Portuguese ambassador in the German capital ( ... ) [informed] that King Carlos had granted him a scholarship, Hermano refused it, saying: “I ask you to thank His Majesty for his kind consideration, but I cannot accept the pension because I am a republican”. (p. IV)

It is important to note that such affiliation does not seem to constitute a problem that compromises the veracity of his work and the facts of the narrated event. However, his republicanism is present and seems to, at times, speak louder, resulting in a clear enthusiasm throughout his coverage.

Constructed as a great reportage, the work of Hermano ^{Neves (1910}) narrates the events of the revolution while informing the reader about its background and the different republican groups that led to that moment. However, it is perhaps the constant inclusion of dialogues and interviews that makes Neves’ work so appealing and striking, as it often gives voice to the military and officers who made the revolution, giving the feeling of disorganisation that strangely works. These reports that would be compiled in the same year in the book Como Triumphou a Republica (How the Republic Triumphed; ^{H. Neves, 1910}) represent only part of Hermano Neves’ contribution to Portuguese literary journalism, and the truth is that he would continue to make history throughout his career. An example of his contribution can also be seen in the early years of the new regime and in what would be one of the most tragic international conflicts for Portugal and the First Republic: the Portuguese participation in the First World War. Once again, the contribution of Hermano Neves can be seen in his work for the newspaper A Capital, with the editorial team making the historic decision to send a Portuguese reporter to specifically cover the conflict (something that had not happened until then). Other Portuguese newsrooms followed by making a similar decision and whose result represents, to a great extent, the coverage that should be considered literary journalism¹⁴.

Also linked to an event that marked the history of Portugal is another literary journalist: Reinaldo Ferreira, or, as he became known to the public back then, Reporter X. It is important to note that still today, this journalist is subject to scrutiny and analysis due to the tenuous connection between his narratives and facts. Albeit, his contribution to reporting in Portugal is praised (^{Godinho, 2009}, p. 135), even though his dubious deontology and invention in some of his reports inevitably show the fiction of his work (^{Sucena, 1996}, pp. 34-35). Concerning this matter, it is important to refer to his December 15, 1918 article for O Século (Reinaldo, 1918), where he portrays the last moments of Sidónio Pais’ life and the commotion generated after the shot that took his life. Amid fear and terror, Reinaldo heard the last words of the military man who had become the president of the Portuguese republic: “I die, but I die well! Save the Homeland…”. ^{Reinaldo Ferreira (1918}) would have been the only person to hear these words, or at least the only reporter to have the scoop, but given his reputation for inventing moments and adding scenes to his reports, we know today that this article, like many others, cannot be taken seriously (^{Ferreira, 1974}, pp. 99-100). It is undeniable that Repórter X contributed to Portuguese literary journalism and written reportage, but the way he dealt with facts compromises the necessary factuality that defines the genre.

Also, in this period, it is important to highlight the impact of the Sidónio Pais regime and how its end coincides with the troubled first 8 years of the Portuguese First Republic: “only one word defines the Portuguese situation after the war - crisis” (^{Aniceto, 2007}, p. 102). Politically, Portugal was going through an undeniable instability at the time (^{Page, 2002/2008}, p. 253) that would culminate on October 19, 1921, when a group of republican guards, sailors and armed civilians rebelled against the republican regime and, taking weapons, spread terror and blood through the streets of Lisbon. Without the strength to face this insurrection, António Granjo, then president of the ministry, handed in his letter of resignation and left the head of government. What happened next became known as the “bloody night” when a rebel group arrested several prominent figures of the First Republic and committed several murders. Among the victims were Machado Santos, José Carlos da Maia, Commander Freitas da Silva, Colonel Botelho Vascos and António Granjo. The following day, Lisbon woke up with the consequences of this cruel and violent event in Portuguese history and immediately, several journalists sought to record this moment.

From the reports of the time, it is worth mentioning the work of Consiglieri Sá ^{Pereira (1924}), which begins with the context that led to the “bloody night”, followed by the story of António Granjo and how he sought refuge. Having been hiding in the house of Francisco Cunha Leal, a former Portuguese military and politician, António Granjo is eventually found and, after being promised amnesty by the rebels, Leal and Granjo are taken to the docks where the former head of government is murdered. Francisco Cunha Leal is one of the main sources of this work, and it is in the sequencing of the different moments of António Granjo’s day and in the inclusion of long dialogues that we have in Noite Sangrenta (Bloody Night) by ^{Consiglieri Sá Pereira (1924}), a unique example of Portuguese literary journalism. Curiously, this work, like the work mentioned above by Hermano ^{Neves (1910}) on the revolution that would give rise to the First Republic, was also published in book form, a format not usually reserved for journalistic investigations but which has remained, still today, a livelihood for literary journalists. This fact did not escape ^{Sá Pereira (1924}), who added the following note at the beginning of the book Noite Sangrenta:

here you have, reader ( ... ), the world of my conscience. Here you have the feelings of various kinds that impelled me to produce not a Book, and the name would be inappropriate ( ... ), but a review of events that, by chance, I had professional interference. Forgive its mistakes. Praise its willingness to be right. (p. 7)

In a way, the “bloody night” would be a harbinger of the coup d’état of May 28, 1926, and the dictatorship that would follow. Moreover, in this vertigo of change, we have yet another outstanding example of Portuguese literary journalism, the work Viagem à Volta das Ditaduras (Journey Around the Dictatorships; ^{Ferro, 1927}), which contains a collection of reports by António Ferro made in three countries - Spain, Italy and Turkey -, originally published in the Diário de Notícias before the May 1926 coup. Ferro’s impact on the following decades of the Portuguese dictatorship is undeniable, given his role in Estado Novo’s National Propaganda Secretariat. However, through his journalistic work, we have another perspective. This time in the context of the international scene and the fascination with the figure of the dictator. Through an analysis of three dictatorial regimes and their respective political figures, ^{António Ferro’s (1927)} narrative offers a curious context for each moment, especially in the interviews in this book, where we discover not only the personalities interviewed but also the reporter himself. At various times, for example, when ^{Ferro (1927)} attends the celebrations in Rome in 1923 on the occasion of the first anniversary of the march that brought Mussolini to power, it is possible to discern in his words a clear personal fascination:

it’s nine o’clock in the morning. Around Piazza del Popolo is an uproar of Hallelujah and a mumbling of drums ( ... ). It starts to heat up. The festive and joyful Sun raised a few more flags of light (...). I hear the sky sing. ( ... ) The procession approaches. Fascism will go through ( ... ). Il Duce takes his place at the head of the procession. (pp. 60-61)

It is difficult to disassociate the journalist from the reported moment and from his obvious fascination with Mussolini and the fascism he represents, something that becomes clear throughout the three interviews that ^{Ferro (1927}) conducted with the dictator. The truth is that this narrative is a product of his time, praised at the time by Manuel Bueno, a Spanish journalist and intellectual belonging to the group of writers, essayists and poets known as the “Generation of 98”. Bueno (translated in ^{Acciaiuoli, 2013})¹⁵ identifies Ferro’s report as a “literary report”:

literary reportage [is] ( ... ) a genre that touches, through its tangent borders, the novel, history and criticism. It requires a power of observation ( ... ), a culture ( ... ), and a very clear sense to appreciate the value of a fact and measure its consequences. ( ... ) [Ferro is] a literate who makes a report [and who] gives the genre a nobility that elevates it to a higher level. (p. 45)

António ^{Ferro (1933}) would continue his interviews, this time with Salazar for Diário de Notícias, which were later published in the book Salazar, o Homem e a Obra (Salazar, the Man and the Work; ^{Ferro, 1933}), once again a work that reflects the fascination of this author towards the dictator and an example to consider when we talk about literary journalism in line with the ideology of the Estado Novo.

At this point, one of the most representative examples of the impact of the Estado Novo policies on media production can be found in a 1936 report written by Mário ^{Neves (1985}), interestingly the son of the journalist Hermano Neves, already mentioned here as one of the first Portuguese literary journalists. In 1936, Portugal was already under a new dictatorial political regime for 1 decade, consolidated in 1933 with the approval of the new constitution. On the other hand, Spain now faced a conflict between republicans and nationalists, the latter led by the one who would become the future Spanish dictator. When the Spanish civil war began in July 1936, Portugal’s interest was immediate, and in a short period of time, Portuguese newsrooms began sending journalists across borders. Journalist Mário Neves, at the time still young in the profession, was sent in August of that year to cover the armed conflict in the city of Badajoz, one of the most important bastions of the Spanish republican forces and broad interest and concern for Portugal given its territorial proximity.

Initially, on the Portuguese border, the young journalist watches the conflicts in the Spanish city from afar and the movement of nationalist troops that were approaching. Through the analysis of the various articles by Mário ^{Neves (1985}) on Badajoz, it is possible to see a development in his writing, where in article after article, his journalistic approach develops with his field experience: first somewhat timidly describing the number of refugees approaching the border, then the air raids and the panic of those fleeing to Portugal, then with interviews and tense moments with the troops at the border. Interestingly, two aspects make this report a peculiar example of Portuguese literary journalism: on the one hand, the clear innocence of the journalist turns into uncertainty and later into shock and determination, making the reader live and understand this journey of sensations alongside the author; and, on the other hand, the history of its publication. Neves’ articles published from August 11 to 17 culminated in his entry into Badajoz after the final battle between republican and nationalist forces. From the report on August 15, Neves’ descriptions take on a more sober tone, something that grows and culminates in his last report on August 17. In the latter, he promises never to return to Badajoz after watching the slaughter’s result and the pile of bodies burning on an improvised pyre; the solution found to deal with the impossibility of burying all the victims of the conflict, many of them already in advanced stages of decomposition.

This report’s publication story is so important to understand the history of Portuguese literary journalism during the Portuguese dictatorship because this last report was never published in the Diário de Notícias; it was by censorship. This report, like so many others of the time, is just one example of the influence of the Estado Novo on freedom of national expression and the history of literary journalism at that time, but it is also an example of how censorship did not always act in a coordinated manner (^{Ramos, 2009}, pp. 652-654). At this point, it is curious to note that only the article of August 17 was cut and not the others, something that Iva ^{Delgado (1985}, p. 70) argues is perhaps because national censorship was still in an embryonic stage in 1936. We know today that Portugal actively supported Francisco Franco’s victory (^{Ramos, 2009}, p. 70), so there was no interest in focusing on descriptions of violence by nationalist forces. In this sense, Mário Neves’ report in 1936 is one of several examples of censorship in the years of the Spanish Civil War and in the decades that followed during the dictatorships of the Iberian Peninsula. It should be noted that all these reports by Mário Neves in Badajoz, including the censored report, would end up being published only after the end of the dictatorship in the book A Chacina de Badajoz (The Badajoz Slaughter; ^{M. Neves, 1985}), which also includes historical analyses of this event.

In a way, this work by ^{Neves (1985}) and the context in which it was written and received reflects a curious factor in literary journalism and explains why this journalistic genre has survived to the present day. Concerning the war in Badajoz and the Spanish Civil War as a whole, it is worth noting that numerous reports focused on this theme in various newspapers worldwide. However, as we saw earlier, certain reports are still celebrated and reprinted today, not necessarily because of the amount of information they contain but rather because of the way they investigate the event in question and expose the history of different individuals and past moments. The impact and relevance of Mário Neves’ piece are based on the same principle: the exposure of information in an affected way that tries to do justice to the observed events and their impact on those present. When ^{Mário Neves (1985}), in this piece about Badajoz, presents us with the last moment of the article that would end up being cut by the censor, it is impossible not to feel the reported terror:

the authorities are the first to disclose ( ... ) that the executions are very high. So what do they do with bodies? ( ... ) There are so many dead that it is impossible to give them immediate burial. Only mass incineration can prevent the accumulated bodies from rotting ( ... ). The fire has been burning for ten hours. A horrible smell penetrates our nostrils to the point that it almost turns our stomachs. Every now and then, you hear a kind of sinister crackling of wood. No artist, no matter how brilliant, would be able to reproduce this impressive Dantesque vision. (pp. 47-48)

This description does not and should not define literary journalism in general or how to practice it, but the sincerity and humanism of this and other reports must have room to exist in journalism to better transcribe the truth and complexity of the observed reality. Perhaps the best way to describe the importance of this report by Mário ^{Neves (1985}), his voice and journalistic choices is through the journalist Michael ^{Herr (1977}), who stated about journalism in armed conflicts, in his case about the war of Vietnam, the following: “conventional journalism could no more reveal this war than conventional firepower could win it” (p. 218).

It is no coincidence that until now, different works of literary journalism have been linked to armed conflicts. The truth is that, as mentioned earlier, moments of socio-political crisis leverage the development and writing of this genre and Portugal, in this regard, is no exception. In this sense, if the censorship and neutrality of Portugal in the Second World War can help explain the difficulty in finding examples of Portuguese literary journalism about this event, the truth is that the same did not happen during the Portuguese colonial war, where we find several examples of literary journalism. Consider, for example, the work of Artur ^{Maciel (1963}) entitled Angola Heróica (Heroic Angola). Working at the time for the Diário de Notícias, ^{Maciel (1963}) presents in this book a journalistic work that even he has trouble defining, as he mentions in the introduction:

I hesitated to collect the chronicles that fill the pages of this volume in a book. Writings to be published in a newspaper - as they were, in the Diário de Notícias - show, in many ways, the peculiar characteristics of a reportage. Which might seem out of place within the normal requirements for a book. (p. 15)

Artur ^{Maciel (1963}) recognises that this book is journalism in book format, which was already mentioned as being common in literary journalism, but the Portuguese journalist considers it strange. His justification for this strangeness is that the report is something we find in newspapers and that, if we read it in books of reportage, the reader may get lost because of the long investigation. In his explanation, ^{Maciel (1963}) notes:

there will possibly be information and commentary material in them that goes beyond the inherent ephemerality of the journalistic article (...). When a report is lengthy, either by the size of each chronicle or the time lapse between their publication, many readers, against purposes and desires, limit their readings to only one part. (pp. 15-16)

Indeed, this long report by Artur ^{Maciel (1963}), produced after 120 days following the Portuguese army, offers us a facet of the colonial war that, for all intents and purposes, is a portrait of its time and the language allowed to Portuguese journalism during the colonial conflict. For example, it is worth noting that, throughout the book, Maciel refers to the Portuguese struggle as a war against terrorism and the rebels in Angola, an expression of the time. Like others of the time, this work’s relevance is partly centred on the need to consider this narrative as the possible output of its time. That is, if we coexist with literature from different mentalities and periods, even if their topics are strange or uncomfortable a posteriori, we must still analyse them as products of a different period. This point of view can and should also be considered with literary journalism to understand its potential and importance as a report from the moment it is conceived and for the subsequent generations that revisit it.

Thus, it should be noted that, in the 1960s, journalism in Portugal began to evolve and change with the slow introduction of women into journalistic frameworks¹⁶, and the same happened with Portuguese literary journalism. An example of these new and necessary voices of Portuguese literary journalism can be found, for example, in the writing of Edite ^{Soeiro (1968a}, ^1968b, ^1968c), a historical figure in national journalism. Considering her coverage of the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico for the Jornal Notícia, ^{Edite Soeiro (1968a}, ^1968b, ^1968c), with this work, was the first woman in Portugal to be sent to cover this event (also the first female Portuguese journalist to write about sports in Portugal). Edite Soeiro, like other reporters, would contribute to the development of national literary journalism, although the real turning point would be the revolution that would take place in 1974.

3. The End of the Dictatorship and the Post-Revolution Portuguese Literary Journalism

With the 1974 revolution, not only did the national panorama change definitively, but so did journalism as a whole, and thus, literary journalism that would be practised in this new freedom. It is undeniable that Portuguese journalism reacted profoundly to these changes, even if this transformation did not happen naturally. In the beginning, some journalists even admitted the difficulty of adapting to the new times (^{Baptista & Correia, 2007}, p. 330). At this point, consider, for example, the vision of journalist Alice Vieira, one of the most outstanding figures in national journalism, who admitted in an interview with ^{Isabel Ventura (2007}) that doing journalism without censorship after the revolution period:

was hard. Being able to write normally about everything was difficult. We were so used to that - suddenly, we could write the names of people who were completely forbidden before, and we could talk about everything. ( ... ) Even today, a phone call early in the morning startles me, and it’s been 30 years. (p. 56)

Again, on the new times after the Carnation Revolution and the challenges for Portuguese journalists, it is worth noting Adriano ^{Rodrigues’ (1980}) point of view about the end of the 1970s, when he refers to the promise of change: “after a time of euphoria, right after April 25 1974, media are now faced with a deep crisis in Portugal. For this crisis, in fact, there are no unambiguous and indisputable solutions” (p. 7).

After decades of being a country closed in on itself and with limitations to new ideas and influences, Portugal sees itself after April 25 facing progressive freedom and the subsequent need to discuss topics in the public sphere that were previously prohibited or treated as taboo and a social scandal. With this new market, different publications that prioritised long reports and different formats allowed Portuguese literary journalism to grow substantially.

An example of this type of publication can be found in Cadernos de Reportagem (Reportage Notebooks), a publication dedicated to investigative journalism. Under the direction of Fernando Dacosta, this publication defined itself in the first issue as being something “between a newspaper and a book, reconciling the accessibility of the first and the depth of the second”, focusing on “national themes that, due to their daring, marginality, disturbance and challenge are not reported within in our press” (^{Melo, 1983}, p. 62). Indeed, each issue focused on a long report on the Portuguese reality and always with themes that were usually complex and outside their time range: in the first issue, we have a report on homosexuality in Portugal written by Guilherme de Melo; in the second, a profile of Zeca Afonso by Viriato Teles; in the third, a report on national abortion cases written by Maria Antónia Fiadeiro; in the fourth, the theme of esoterism by João Aguiar; in the fifth issue, we have a profile of a criminal written by Jorge Trabulo Marques; and, finally, the last issue on returnees from the former colonies written by Fernando Dacosta. Starting in June 1983 and ending in October 1984, the construction of this publication partly recalls special issues of the New Yorker or Esquire magazines, that is, contemporary international publications focused on long reports and that made literary journalism famous in their respective realities.

Of the six issues of Cadernos de Reportagem, the articles by Guilherme de ^{Melo (1983}) and Maria Antónia ^{Fiadeiro (1983}) stand out, with these two being ultimate examples of Portuguese literary journalism that focus on complicated topics that should be researched. Even though Cadernos de Reportagem did not have a follow-up, we can see that this type of publication of specialised magazines, which focused on long written reports, eventually found space in the Portuguese press, particularly in the following decade. In fact, in this field, it is important to highlight the appearance of three specific magazines in the Portuguese panorama: Grande Reportagem, especially since its relaunch in 1989; Público, since its launch in 1990, especially with the now-extinct supplement called Revista 2; and Visão, from 1993 onwards. These three magazines, among others, allowed for the publication of long reports and a new generation of reporters who would succeed in the national panorama and change Portuguese literary journalism of the 1990s and the 21st century.

4. Conclusion: Portuguese Literary Journalism in the 21st century

When referring to Público newspaper, it is important to highlight two of the several literary journalists: Alexandra Lucas Coelho and Paulo Moura (both of whom ended their contract with this publication in 2017). Both journalists had a strong connection with Público, with both having some of their most remarkable reports already in book form, once again reinforcing the importance of this format for the survival of contemporary literary journalism.

Consider Alexandra Lucas Coelho first, a journalist whose writing style changes considerably from book to book. In her book Tahrir! (^{Coelho, 2011}), for example, she captures the first moments of the Egyptian revolution in February 2011. Written on the spot and without the support of its editorial staff in Lisbon, this book stems from the journalist’s desire to capture the story while it is happening with the perspective and rigour of her profession. Consider another of her books, Vai, Brasil (Go Brazil; ^{Coelho, 2013}), where some of her chronicles are compiled. This work could be considered not literary journalism, and, in fact, we find in this book several narratives more in line with opinion articles and chronicles, sometimes with a humorous tone. Even so, this work also has reportage moments, such as when ^{Alexandra Lucas Coelho (2013}) enters the Amazon Forest by boat and describes the scenario and the people with whom she interacts. In the words of the journalist, this change of style is something she does on purpose, as she identifies her writing as something in constant mutation, something that is in continuous movement:

what I feel and hope keeps happening is that it is something in “motion”. And I hope it stays that way, I hope so. ( ... ) At a certain point, I started ( ... ) precisely trying not to settle down, not to settle into a formula. That is very important to me; formulas don’t interest me at all. Formulas are interesting to try once, and we move on. (^{Coutinho, 2018}, p. 531)

Paulo ^{Moura (2013}) seeks a similar perspective in his work, letting the story influence his way of writing and not the opposite. An example of this can be found in his book Longe do Mar (Far From the Sea; ^{Moura, 2013}), which has a compilation of a series of reports that Moura wrote at different times in his career, always to follow stories through the countryside of Portugal - a format that the journalist would repeat in Extremo Ocidental (Western Edge; ^{Moura, 2016}), this time along the Portuguese coast. In Longe do Mar (^{Moura, 2013}), the different reports sometimes follow distant structures: in “Iria”, the narrative looks like a report written over a long period in which the author admits a near fixation with a story that he cannot manage to finish; in “A Menina que Amou Demais” (The Girl Who Loved Too Much), the narrative appears more as if it were a short story, and it is actually a report on the tragic story of Joana Fulgêncio; in the narrative “Por Amor, em Forros de Arrão”( For Love, in Forros de Arrão), the author follows an unusual line for journalism and creates a report in a structure closer to the theatre, once again showing the extent of his writing. This almost unpredictability in style turns each of these stories, and so many others by Paulo Moura, into something appealing that captures the reader’s attention as if it were a novel, never leaving aside the thoroughness and rigour that define the report and investigation that we find in literary journalism.

To conclude this study on the history of Portuguese literary journalism, it is important to recognise and once again reiterate its long evolution over time and its relevance for the national panorama until the present day. At the same time, it is important to note that a study on literary journalism is also a study of the history of journalism and how different journalists choose to tell stories with a detailed, humanistic and descriptive narrative. A genre that journalist Pedro Rosa Mendes (as quoted in the introductory notes to the book by ^{Bak & Reynolds, 2011}) would define as follows: “literary reportage is a commitment with reality through a novelist’s eye but with a journalist’s discipline” (p. VII).