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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I am still conflicted about it, which perhaps is why I find it interesting. Additionally, the narrator is only referred to as ‘I’, and remains undefined even towards the end of the book. There are parallels to be drawn with Kafka’s The Metamorphosis – but I found Kafka far more palatable yes! Clarice makes me want to learn Portuguese just to hear the sound of her voice unfiltered through a translation, though Ms.
Casting this off rapidly GH determines that the maid’s views are insignificant since she is not of the same caste or position. I will not tell you what triggered this feeling of rebirth because it is too much of a spoiler already.
Availing herself of a single character, Lispector transforms a banal situation—a woman at home, alone—into an amphitheater for philosophical investigations. The car itself is only a shape surrounding you, without significance.
She goes through the painful process of shedding such things, upending everything she previously held dear, entering the “neutrality” and “nothingness” of the universe. There were sections that moved me to tears.
I don’t know much about Clarice Lispector, other than that she was born in the Ukraine, grew up in Brazil, and died at the age of Being the pretentious kid I was, I dabbled in existentialism at the time, so I borrowed the conceptual underpinning and came up with the phrase phenomenological disorientation.
Lispector penetrates GH’s mind, boring relentlessly for the questions other shy from. Becoming unclean with what? I see everything through a full glass.
But the translator of The Passion According to G. If you are the type of a reader who rates books according to your level of enjoyment while reading, then this book is not for you.
I want to find the redemption in today, in clatice now, in the reality that is being, and not in the promise, I want to wegundo joy in this instant And we soon become aware that she doesn’t understand it all either. What if one day I never came back out of it? One of the world’s great modern writers. She saw it and she smooshed it and later she’s going to eat it and that’s all that’s gonna happen here, and the worst part is that’s not the worst part!
It is much like stopping at the gas station and filling up the tank. I was the image of what I was not, and that image of not-being overwhelmed me. How strange and perhaps even frightening these shapes become when you don’t know their ‘intentions.
The idea if we can even call it that lies in the interstices between the words. An outstanding out-of-the-comfort-zone book written by the pispector Clarice Lispector. The green water of the g. A sculptress known only as G. She seems to awaken that compulsion to write something, anything.
The Passion According to G.H.
Claiming many friends she claice reflected herself back to herself through their eyes. And all of us if we dare not to know what we are. But when I say it was the first crisis you should understand that it’s the first crisis I remember. Our language fails it. Idra Novey offers this anecdote lispecgor, along with the novel itself, tells us more than any biography ever could: Does it even have anything to do with your motion down the highway?
All this makes the flow of the prose seem to undulate back and forth, sometimes flowing, sometimes stilted, but at some point you begin to understand that she seems to be ignoring rules in favor of lyricism, mood and tone.
Poesia y Poetica : Clarice Lispector :
Although I think it’s a masterpiece and I gave it five stars, I wouldn’t be surprised by anyone giving it one star. I don’t think I could even muster up the words to properly describe it, but it’s an amazing book.
It was not long after the naming of the remembering of the experience that I realized that I would probably always be nuts. The first bind had already involuntarily burst, and I was breaking loose from the law, though I intuited that I was going to enter the hell of living matter — what kind of hell awaited me? I want to take part of Lispector, to use her and devour what is hers, make it mine mine mine, but this is struggling against my tries. Sousa,  and then by Idra Novey in