ACCORDING TO CLARICE LISPECTOR. Paul B. Dixon. Clarice Inspector’s A paixão segundo G. H. is a passion in more than one sense. It is an account of a. Availing herself of a single character, Lispector transforms a banal situation—a O livro “A Paixão Segundo G. H.” é a minha estreia literária com Clarice.
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Or language used not to communicate, but to draw out something that can be squeezed out from the incomprehensible.
It is seen by many as her magnum opus; the fact that it was chosen to degundo part of the UNESCO-sponsored Archivos series of critical editions of key Spanish American and lusophone works published in with a second edition in attests to this.
View all 17 comments. An Eve who is proud to be naked!
Poesia y Poetica : Clarice Lispector :
The questions would not stop and Lispector paces us through the initial denial and anger, then the rocking fear, slow acceptance wed to steps of retreat. I used the word palatable to describe a story of a man who wakes up in the form of a dung beetleand way more accessible. Peeking into the former maid’s closet a cockroach leaps out.
The philosophical rambling soliloquy is SO dense, with so many ideas in just one paragraph, I found it overwhelming, stifling. I can dig it! Open Preview See a Problem? I was adrift from the very first sentence. Terrified by the cockroach she sees emerging, she slams the door shut, severing the cockroach in its centre, and sees the still-living animal’s entrails beginning to ooze out.
Poesia y Poetica
Trivia About The Passion Accor From the outset, this book was well received by the critics, especially in Brazil, with several book-length studies and doctoral theses devoted to it.
But we needed something to call it, a way to describe what it was.
This new world can not be spoken. Sometimes the text turns completely erratic, it is written as if in the middle of experiencing it, an account of an on-going rapture.
Several times throughout, G. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. But the translator of The Passion According to G. I don’t know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.
The Passion According to G.H.
So I opened my eyes all at once, and saw the full endless vastness of the room, that room that was vibrating in silence, laboratory of hell. But also the religious imagery gives a Catholic backdrop as well. As such, The Passion According to G. When the young woman arrived, Clarice sat and stared at her and said nothing until the woman finally fled the apartment.
I can’t say that I enjoyed it, even though I clrice I loved it but what am I so afraid of? Hatred for the book is as understandable to me as admiration. But I shouldn’t say I experienced it because it’s difficult to experience something that doesn’t extend itself in time; I should say that I remembered the feeling from it.
No novel should aim to produce the sensations you get from reading those textbooks. This has a positive “carpe diem” message that I can admire.
And because I depersonalize myself to the point of not having my name, I reply whenever someone says: The air is fertilised and wheez The Passion According to G.
It’s nature’s daily memorandum to those who’ve become too complacent, too forgetful, and too immortal. Availing herself of a single character, Lispector transforms a banal situation—a woman at home, alone—into an amphitheater for philosophical investigations.
I never told anyone about these experiences until many years later. The white gooed innards seep out. Pondering the inscrutable drawing, she realizes that the black maid, whose name she has forgotten, and whose face she has trouble calling to mind, had hated her. She blew me away, yet again. Lispector penetrates GH’s mind, boring relentlessly for the questions other shy from.
However, it also connects the discrete parts of the novel, as if saying that every end is also a beginning — something that accompanies Lispector’s motifs of time and eternity. Or maybe I thought I understood based on my interpretations. The first-person narration jousts with language, playfully but forcefully examining the ambiguous nature of words, with results ranging from the profound to the pretentious: And I too have no name, and that is my name.
The further into the book, the less human the logic is. I liken it to watching Tarkovsky’s Stalkerwhere everything is so slowed-down and viewed at such a microscopic level that the seemingly tiniest things take on major significance.
She managed to get in touch with the writer, who kindly agreed to meet her. How strange and perhaps even frightening these shapes become when you don’t know their ‘intentions.
I suspect Clarice Lispector copied here the style in Fernando Pessoa’s “The Book of Seggundo to produce this exasperating, introspective, highfalutin nonsense. And there is the moving of the understanding as in a hand slowly groping towards the grasping of the subject-object. Sousa, translator of the novel from Portuguese to English, re-examines the way most criticism addresses the key issue of the language dynamics of the novel. By putting things in order, I create and understand at the same time.
Slowly, Lispector taught me to let go, to not consume and assimilate, but to receive without understanding or liapector. I’ll leave that question to the psychologists, the biochemists, the shamans One searches through living to discover the awaiting self.
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