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Near to the Wild Heart

by Clarice Lispector, Giovanni Pontiero (Translator)

4.13 of 5 stars 4.13 · rating details · 510 ratings · 50 reviews

More an examination of life itself than the life lived, this first US publication of the acclaimed late Brazilian writer Lispector's first novel (originally published in 1944, when she was only 19) reminds us of bet precocious if narrowly focused talent (Soul-storm, etc.). There is little narrative, and the setting, though Brazilian, is only lightly sketched. Sometimes the...more

Paperback, 192 pages

Published September 17th 1990 by New Directions

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Apr 07, 2011 John Nuño rated it 4 of 5 stars

Near to the Wild Heart is esoteric novel about a married young woman, Joana, who not unlike the author herself, is consumed by her own hyper-awareness. Is it a gift or a curse to see so much, to know so much? In Joana's case, it seems like it's a lot of both. This is not an easy read by any stretch. This is not a big thick Pynchon-like novel - each page filled with as many words that can fit. Near To The Wild Heart is like a white dwarf star - it's not big in mass (it's only 186 pages) but is su...more

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Mar 19, 2013 Claudia Glezz Cisneros rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Citas: Nunca hay que adelantarse, nunca hay que robar antes de saber si lo que quieres robar existe en alguna parte honestamente reservado para ti.

¿Qué importa más: vivir o saber que se está viviendo?

¿Por qué hablas de cosas difíciles, por qué empujas cosas enormes en un momento simple?
En el momento en el que intento hablar, no sólo no expreso lo que siento, sino que lo que siento se transforma lentamente en lo que digo.

Este libro pertenece a la colección que tiene mi madre ahí guardada, listos...more Citas: Nunca hay que adelantarse, nunca hay que robar antes de saber si lo que quieres robar existe en alguna parte honestamente reservado para ti.

¿Qué importa más: vivir o saber que se está viviendo?

¿Por qué hablas de cosas difíciles, por qué empujas cosas enormes en un momento simple?
En el momento en el que intento hablar, no sólo no expreso lo que siento, sino que lo que siento se transforma lentamente en lo que digo.

Este libro pertenece a la colección que tiene mi madre ahí guardada, listos para que me los lea todos.

Hay escritores que usan la palabra como una mampara para separar al que lo lee de lo que cuenta, como si el libro fuera un taxi de Londres o Montevideo. El conductor y el pasajero indudablemente se dirigen al mismo sitio, pero el conductor, mientras te muestra la nuca y te concede a veces escueta la voz (que te llega reverberada y submarina a través de la mampara), te lleva por una ciudad que entrevista a ráfagas desde las ventanillas de atrás te parece secreta y sólo suya. Clarice Lispector, además de conducirte en silencio y mirándote de vez en cuando por el retrovisor con ojos de esfinge desde dentro de su esfera solitaria por una ciudad tumultuosa de su propiedad exclusiva, gran temporal atravesado a rachas por soles cegadores, como la juventud de Beaudelaire, por la que ella conduce dolida pero fiera como un animalito herido, luego, cuando menos te lo esperas se esconde en el maletero y tienes que seguir conduciendo tú a ciegas por la ciudad de ella.

Cerca del corazón salvaje es una gestación larga pero feliz con su dolor que parece a punto de acabar reventando al ser que lleva dentro en estallido en cualquier momento pero no. Un ser que siempre fue peligroso y libre y contra el mundo: Juana, la extraña para todos, incluso para el padre (lo que más me gusta del libro, la vida de Juana niña con su padre). Juana es una víbora solitaria. Las relaciones que mantiene consigo misma nada tienen que ver las relaciones que mantiene con los otros.
Juana lo vive todo por dentro y a solas, cada contacto con los demás es siempre un conflicto, sobre todo con las otras mujeres, a las que teme y reverencia a partes iguales porque son fuertes y ciertas y divinas materias-primas. Para Juana las otras mujeres siempre son la otra. Ah, Electra. La piedad es mi forma de amor. De odio y de comunicación, dice. Juana, que ni siquiera sabe qué hacer consigo misma, cree que prefiere estar sola. Los demás le roban toda su capacidad de sentir, dice. La presencia de los demás la priva de libertad, dice. Y Juana quiere su libertad, esa extraña libertad que había sido su maldición, sabía que de ahí venía su vida y sus momentos de gloria y que de ahí venía la creación de cada instante futuro, pero en el fondo, Juana, lo único que quiere, es una madre, y lo único que tiene es miedo.

El argumento de Cerca del corazón salvaje, desprovisto del verbo de Clarice Lispector, la mujer de la voz, es vulgar: mujer rara se casa con hombre que queda rendido por lo que él cree misterio hasta que se cansa del hermetismo de su rara esposa y se vuelve con su novia de antes, una amante dócil y aburrida a la que deja embarazada. Clarice Lispector va hablando, la respuesta, no le importa demasiado. Lo que vale es que la pregunta sea aceptada, que pueda existir, hablando como si se buceara a sí misma por dentro. No hay aventuras piratas ni islas con tesoros exteriores en Cerca del corazón salvaje, todo se pasa por dentro de la búsqueda, por dentro de la inteligencia de las cosas ciegas, del poder de la piedra que al caer empuja a otra que va a caer en el mar y mata un pez. En este libro hay que zambullirse como en un mar lleno de algas, a veces agota tanto pensamiento sutil y tanta telaraña mística, tanto verde pegajoso, pero luego cuando se sale te llevas la impresión de haberle estado hurgando a alguien su interior. Y a quién no le gusta husmear en lo privado. Como dice Basilio Losada en la excelente introducción a su excelente traducción de Cerca del corazón salvaje: «Clarice es la procura acuciante de una identidad, la lengua como medio para penetrar en una realidad que, en el fondo, apenas siente como suya, pero que ama y sabe, oscuramente, que es la única que le es dada.

Por fuera del libro:
Clarice Lispector, la mujer que dijo «Cuando no escribo estoy muerta», publicó Cerca del corazón salvaje con 24 años, en 1944, a la misma edad que Carmen Laforet escribió Nada y Carson McCullers El corazón es un cazador solitario. Sus padres fueron judíos ucranianos emigrados a Recife, el nordeste brasileño, donde ella se crió. Su madre murió de sífilis cuando ella tenía sólo nueve años, y su padre, su hermana y ella se fueron a vivir a Río. Se casó muy pronto, con un diplomático compañero suyo de la carrera de Derecho, con el que vivió en Inglaterra, Estados Unidos y Suiza hasta su separación, cuando Clarice volvió a Brasil con sus dos hijos, y abandonó los exilios extranjeros por su exilio interior.
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Jan 25, 2010 Bob Redmond rated it 5 of 5 stars

Brazilian novelist Clarice Lispector published her first novel, NEAR TO THE WILD HEART, in 1943 at age 23.

It was an immediate sensation, written in a modernist style revolutionary for Brazilian literature. The book set the stage for Lispector's later (and equally praised) books, in which she also used stream of consciousness and other unorthodox writing techniques to explore similar themes, particularly the interior thoughts and emotions of strong female leads. The author, also a journalist and...more Brazilian novelist Clarice Lispector published her first novel, NEAR TO THE WILD HEART, in 1943 at age 23.

It was an immediate sensation, written in a modernist style revolutionary for Brazilian literature. The book set the stage for Lispector's later (and equally praised) books, in which she also used stream of consciousness and other unorthodox writing techniques to explore similar themes, particularly the interior thoughts and emotions of strong female leads. The author, also a journalist and translator, was born in the Ukraine and would eventually spend significant time in Europe and the US before dying of cancer at age 56.

We meet the protagonist Joana as a little girl. She is playing while her father (a writer) works. He dies shortly thereafter, and she goes to live with her aunt and uncle, who live by the sea. They do not get along. Joana has an intellectual and probably sexual awakening with a teacher, and marries another man who cheats on her. She confronts his lover, takes another lover of her own, then leaves everything and sets out on a boat.

Those are the plot points, which are sometimes hard to figure out, since most of the action, moving liberally around in time, happens in interior monologues and long philosophical passages. Lispector seems to write casually (if densely), but there is a tight structure to the novel, full of a solid plot arc and internal references, and close reading is almost always rewarded.

The writing, too, is lovely and substantial. From sentences like this — (p. 102): "How often she had given a waiter an enormous tip simply because she had remembered that he was going to die and didn't know." and this (p. 142): "There is a startled, light substance in the air which I have managed to secure, it's like the second that precedes the crying of an infant." — Lispector also illuminates questions of being and nothingness, the nature of creativity, and (p. 39), quantum mechanics and the notion of eternity:

"To define eternity as a quantity greater than time and greater than even the time the human mind can sustain thought, would not permit her, even so, to perceive its duration. Its essential quality was not to have any quantity, not to be measurable and divisible because everything which could be measured and divided had a beginning and an end. Eternity was not that infinitely great quantity that exhausted itself; eternity was succession. Then Joana suddenly understood that the greatest beauty was to be found in succession... and in succession one also discovered sorrow because the body was much slower than the movement of uninterrupted continuity."

She applies this philosophy—of the irreducible psyche—to deeply emotional sections on the nature of relationships among family and lovers, and ultimately, between God and the narrator. In one mind-blowing section, she re-writes Psalm 130 (De Profundis/ Out of the Depths) and creates a revolutionary statement that makes Nietzsche sound like a simpleton.

NEAR TO THE WILD HEART was named after a quote by James Joyce at the suggestion of its publisher, although Lispector maintained she read neither Joyce nor Virginia Woolf until after finishing this manuscript. Nonetheless, it is interesting to contrast it with Woolf, especially, and of Woolf, with her book THE WAVES, which reaches a similar crossroads but a different conclusion.

Elizabeth Bishop called her "better then Borges." Caetano Veloso said she was one of the chief revelations of his adolescence. Her words shift conceptions, shake the air in the room like a great bird that has flown low and silently by, leaving reverberation in its wake.

*

WHY I READ THIS BOOK: I read a review of a recent biography (WHY THIS WORLD, by Benjamin Moser) in the NY Times Book Review (August 23, 2009), which described Lispector of one of the unsung heroines of contemporary literature (and is also the source of the Bishop and Veloso quotes above). I looked for books in English translation, and found this one.

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Mar 18, 2012 Rafael Ferreira rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Os que acompanham o blog já devem ter notado que não faço resenhas de livros que clássicos. Sempre escolho livros que fogem dessa condição, seja porque lançados recentemente ou porque pouco conhecidos. Existem razões para essa escolha. A primeira é a minha obsessão por fugir do óbvio (opção que tento manter, também, na escolha dos poemas do Porque hoje é Sábado). A segunda, e principal, é senso crítico. Não há nada que eu possa falar sobre Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas ou sobre O Castelo (apen...more Os que acompanham o blog já devem ter notado que não faço resenhas de livros que clássicos. Sempre escolho livros que fogem dessa condição, seja porque lançados recentemente ou porque pouco conhecidos. Existem razões para essa escolha. A primeira é a minha obsessão por fugir do óbvio (opção que tento manter, também, na escolha dos poemas do Porque hoje é Sábado). A segunda, e principal, é senso crítico. Não há nada que eu possa falar sobre Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas ou sobre O Castelo (apenas para falar de Machado de Assis e Franz Kafka, dois monstros sagrados de que gosto muito) que não tenha sido dito muito melhor por alguém que efetivamente entende de literatura.

Isto posto, desta vez vou quebrar a minha auto-imposta norma e comentar (não vou chamar de resenha) um livro clássico da literatura brasileira.

Perto do Coração Selvagem é o primeiro romance de Clarice Lispector, publicado em 1943, quando a autora tinha apenas vinte e três anos. Já havia lido algumas crônicas de Clarice nos tempos de colégio, mas nunca havia me aventurado a ler um de seus romances. Não sei exatamente porque, mas algo sempre me afastou de seus romances. Nunca comprava os seus livros... Sempre havia algum lançamento recente, de algum autor razoavelmente desconhecido (ou pouco lido no Brasil) que passava na frente. Comprei Perto do Coração Selvagem meio que por acaso na Blooks, uma das minhas livrarias favoritas, antes de uma sessão de cinema há pouco mais de um mês. Entrei na livraria em busca de outro livro e acabei trombando com uma pilha dos livros de Clarice. Achei que era a hora de lê-la. Estava certo... O romance é um livro excelente, que entra diretamente na lista dos melhores que já li.

Tratar de seu enredo é um risco, pois, na verdade, o livro trata da vida, ou melhor, da forma como uma pessoa vê, sente e constrói o seu entendimento sobre a vida. Mas, para podermos contextualizar, o romance é uma narrativa em fluxo de consciência da história de Joana, contada em dois planos temporais: a sua infância e a vida adulta. Falando assim, um desavisado pode pensar que se trata de uma narrativa tradicional em primeira pessoa, contada como uma sucessão de fatos. Nada mais longe da realidade do romance. Com uma linguagem cuidadosamente trabalhada, Clarice narra não fatos e sim pensamentos. O romance navega através da consciência atormentada de Joana. Os “simples” fatos da vida de seus personagens pouco ou nada importam para os fins do romance. O que importa são seus pensamentos, sua visão do mundo, a forma como a realidade é absorvida e processada pelo personagem. O romance vai desvendando a sua visão de mundo e mostrando a construção da realidade, retratada como nada mais do que a forma como é vista e entendida por Joana e os demais personagens.

Gostei muito do romance. Joana é um personagem constantemente à beira de uma epifania, ou, talvez, à beira do abismo. A narrativa, despejada por sobre o leitor como um tormenta, nos faz acreditar que, de fato, estamos dentro da mente dos personagens, compartilhando seus dilemas. Sua força (e que força) vem das pequenas frases, dos sentimentos transpostos com uma honestidade quase destruidora. O drama existencial de Joana é demasiado humano. Impossível não entender e se solidarizar com um personagem que "diz" coisas como “Quantas vezes não dera uma gorjeta exagerada ao garçom só porque se lembrara de que ele ia morrer e não o sabia”, já que somos todos os cadáveres adiados de Fernando Pessoa.

Clarice é uma autora sensível e a sua sensibilidade se mostra na construção da visão que seus personagens têm do mundo. O olho aguçado para ler as pessoas gera passagens geniais como “Tentou num último esforço inventar alguma coisa, um pensamento que a distraísse. Inútil. Ela só sabia viver”, com que Joana descreve uma senhora que conhecera.

Também me causou um enorme impacto a sensação de claustrofobia da narração. O confinamento dos personagens em suas vidas, em sua condição humana contamina toda a narrativa. O leitor se sente preso, confinado aquele mundo confuso e povoado de símbolos, em que não tem nenhuma influência. O livro pesa uma tonelada e é impossível não ser afetado por todo esse peso. Eu, que costumo ler rápido, demorei bastante a terminar o livro. Ao fim de suas duzentas páginas, parecia que havia lido as quinhentas e tantas páginas do Castelo (que, aliás, é outro livro que pesa uma tonelada).

Por fim, é incrível lembrar que esse é o romance de estréia da autora. A sua prosa já nasce adulta, madura, tanto do ponto de vista temático quanto do ponto de vista estilístico. Clarice escreve um texto fluído, com uma linguagem cuidadosamente pensada e engendrada. Sem apelar para os vanguardismos estilísticos vulgares (ou mesmo para os não vulgares), cria uma linguagem de alta voltagem poética. Fico impressionado quando penso que alguém conseguiu sentir, e mais do que isso, escrever, tanto tendo apenas vinte e três anos.

Clarice é, definitivamente, uma escritora universal. Recomendar a leitura de seu romance é pouco!

Resenha originalmente publicada em http://blogdorcf.blogspot.com.br/ (less)

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Aug 19, 2012 jeremy rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: fiction, translation

beginning with benjamin moser's 2009 biography, why this world, and later the retranslations of four of her novels (starting with the stunning the hour of the star in 2011), clarice lispector and her writing have attracted a considerable amount of well-deserved attention of late. thirty-five years after her death, many english readers are now being introduced to the singularity of the brazilian author's remarkable prose. published when she was in her early twenties, near to the wild heart (perto...more beginning with benjamin moser's 2009 biography, why this world, and later the retranslations of four of her novels (starting with the stunning the hour of the star in 2011), clarice lispector and her writing have attracted a considerable amount of well-deserved attention of late. thirty-five years after her death, many english readers are now being introduced to the singularity of the brazilian author's remarkable prose. published when she was in her early twenties, near to the wild heart (perto do coração selvagem) brought immediate acclaim to the young writer.

nearly seventy years old now, lispector's debut novel hums with a heady mix of existential distress and youthful uncertainty. joana, near to the wild heart's main character, is encumbered by the myriad vagaries of everyday reality, and, given her introspective and indecisive temperament, finds herself nearly estranged from all those close to her (and often even herself, it seems). lispector's unmitigated portrayal of joana's interior life elicits a sympathetic, if not sometimes pitiable, response in her readers. near to the wild heart is an emotionally rich novel that compels one to consider, as joana struggles to do, the ever-changing, malleable, and indeterminate nature of individual being. beautiful and bewitching, the uniqueness of lispector's style alone makes her fiction well worth seeking out.

just a quiet second perhaps separating one stretch of life from the next. not even a second, she couldn't count it in time, but long like an infinite straight line. deep, coming from far off- a black bird, a dot growing on the horizon, drawing closer to awareness like a ball thrown from the end to the beginning. and exploding before perplexed eyes in an essence of silence. leaving behind it the perfect interval like a single sound vibrating in the air. be reborn later, store away the strange memory of the interval, not knowing how to mix it into life. carry forever the small empty dot- dazed and virgin, too fleeting to allow itself to be revealed.

*rendered from the portuguese by alison entrekin, one of five translators (including moser) to work on as many books recently published by new directions.

"the modern tragedy is man's vain attempt to adapt to the state of things that he has created."
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Jan 22, 2013 Kevin Elliott rated it 5 of 5 stars

Those who look for answers in fiction need not apply to the world of Lispector. The weak of stomach or stone-like in conviction should also tread lightly, for Lispector is an all-consuming force that offers immediacy and visceral sincerity without concern for one's readiness.

Written and published in Brazil, while Lispector was 19-24 (depending on the account you read), Near to the Wild Heart is a novel that examines the internal life of Joana. Joana's life, taken at face value, could be enough f...more Those who look for answers in fiction need not apply to the world of Lispector. The weak of stomach or stone-like in conviction should also tread lightly, for Lispector is an all-consuming force that offers immediacy and visceral sincerity without concern for one's readiness.

Written and published in Brazil, while Lispector was 19-24 (depending on the account you read), Near to the Wild Heart is a novel that examines the internal life of Joana. Joana's life, taken at face value, could be enough for a modern novel. The loss of her father, a blurred recollection of an encounter with a teacher, an unhappy marriage with a man who has an affair with his ex that results in pregnancy, and the eventual release of Joana from a normal life into true freedom would be enough to fill a large volume. Lispector, however, deftly uses less than 200 pages to bring a story of one woman's quest for authenticity and a self-made philosophy of being to the surface of the page. Her blistering prose and poetic musings are enough to leave both Joana and the reader with a burning.

While not much happens on the surface, the reader experiences everything Joana feels as she searches for a happiness that she laments, though never really accepts. One of the tenets of her philosophy is that "movement explains form," yet her movements seem to be a familiar circle toward and from the yearning for experience.

I found myself equally drawn to and repelled by Joana's internal focus and continued lament. Her achievement of the conventional happiness she continually rebels against only furthers her fruestration. Despite Joana's continued fumbling and self-conscious examination of her mistaken actions and thoughts, she takes responsibility for her tragic state. While she doesn't subscribe to the conventions of societal morality nor make excuses for her movement or thought, she also does not blame the others in her life for her state. This steadfast amoral characterization of Joana is not only a difficult realization of modernist prose and the tragedy of what it means to be trapped within oneself with one's own responsibility, but also a challenging triumph of feminist fiction that rings truer than anything by Woolf. The complexities of Joana's struggle to define herself in terms unrelated to the men in her life are not dismissed. Her lack of remorse is complete and without agenda.

Beyond all of this, Lispector does not have to be dissected and examined to be enjoyed, because as the reader follows Joana (who is difficult to sympathize with yet ultimately relatable), her observation of difficult emotional truth is pure poetry. Joana's lack of remorse is primary as a motivator in her own life. Her observation and essential lyrical sincerity is primary in consuming the reader.

When you are consumed, you do not need answers. As Lispector's characters are fully formed through the movement of their thoughts, I was moved through Lispector's form and unique style.

2013 will be the year of Lispector for me. I certainly feel no remorse for that.(less)

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Mandy Medley "It's hard to depreciate what is human," she went on, "having to escape this atmosphere of failed revolt (adolescence), of solidarity with others whos...more
Jan 23, 2013 11:23am

Kevin Elliott Oh, I didn't mean to ignore her vulnerability. It is apparent every time she tries to re-define happiness, refers to herself as plain or ugly, or meas...more
Jan 23, 2013 05:32pm

Nov 30, 2010 Jessica rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Did you know that if you carry books around long enough, moving them from house to house, country to country, they become part of you. You don't even have to open them. Let alone reread them! If your bookcase is near enough to your bed, you can dream their contents. Sentences and paragraphs. Entire novels will become part of your unconsciousness...
I read this eons ago (I was in my 20's!) while living in Mexico City. Yeah I read it in Spanish though it was written in Portuguese. It would've been...more

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Jul 27, 2011 Joana added it · review of another edition

Uau. Das coisas mais cruas, genuinas, e da lá do fundo, onde nem as entranhas falam - que li em muito tempo....Muito Bom.

"Muitos anos de sua existência gastou-os à janela, olhando as coisas que passavam e as paradas. Mas na verdade não enxergava tanto quanto ouvia dentro de si a vida. Fascinara-a o seu ruído - como o da respiração de uma criança tenra - o seu brilho doce - como o de uma planta recém-nascida. Ainda não se cansara de existir e bastava-se tanto que às vezes, de grande felicidade, s...more

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Jul 11, 2010 Bob rated it 4 of 5 stars

Lispector's first, from 1943, credited with bringing one of the earliest breezes of Joycean modernism to Brazil. In keeping with "Portrait of The Artist" from which it takes its title phrase, there is a certain "pick, pack, pock, puck" kind of tactile linguistic representation of sensation but there is scarcely any cultural context, nor politics at all. Instead a half dozen characters exist in a cloudy world of their thoughts and feelings. The central character recounts sections of her girlhood...more

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Jun 03, 2012 Dolmar rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: brasil

Un amigo invisible me regaló este libro y con ello, la posibilidad de conocer a Lispector, brasileña de origen judeo-ucraniano que lo escribió en 1944 con apenas 23 años.

No es una novela al uso sino una contínua introspección, investigación de sentimientos y sensaciones difíciles de describir en cuanto que, a veces, se presentan como oníricas; otras, con la objetividad de quien observa desde fuera. Pero siempre rezuma conflicto interior, insuficiente comunicación con los demás, soledad.

Su lectur...more

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Sep 16, 2012 Vicky rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: novel, favorites

"Whenever she told Rute secrets, for example, she'd then get angry with Rute. It really was best to keep quiet." (6)

"What else was that feeling of contained force, ready to burst forth in violence, that longing to apply it with her eyes closed, all of it, with the rash confidence of a wild beast? Wasn't it in evil alone that you could breathe fearlessly, accepting the air and your lungs? Not even pleasure would give me as much pleasure as evil, she thought surprised. She felt a perfect animal in...more "Whenever she told Rute secrets, for example, she'd then get angry with Rute. It really was best to keep quiet." (6)

"What else was that feeling of contained force, ready to burst forth in violence, that longing to apply it with her eyes closed, all of it, with the rash confidence of a wild beast? Wasn't it in evil alone that you could breathe fearlessly, accepting the air and your lungs? Not even pleasure would give me as much pleasure as evil, she thought surprised. She felt a perfect animal inside her, full of contradictions, of selfishness and vitality." (9)

"Don't accuse myself. Seek the basis of selfishness: nothing that I am not can interest me, it is impossible to be any more than what you are (nevertheless I exceed myself even when I'm not delirious, I am more than myself almost normally); I have a body and everything that I do is a continuation of my beginning; if the Mayan civilization doesn't interest me it is because I have nothing in me that can connect with its bas-reliefs; I accept everything that comes from me because I am unaware of the causes and I may be trampling something vital without knowing it; this is my greatest humility, she figured." (11)

"the simple and adjectiveless feeling" (12)

"There were many good feelings. Climbing the hill, stopping at the top and, without looking, feeling the ground covered behind her, the farm in the distance. The wind ruffling her clothes, her hair. Her arms free, heart closing and opening wildly, but her face bright and serene under the sun. And knowing above all that the earth beneath her feet was so deep and so secret that she need not fear the invasion of understanding dissolving its mystery. This feeling had a quality of glory." (36)

"'I don't know' isn't an answer. Learn to find everything that exists within you." (45)

"What's going to happen to me?" (48)

"Many years of her existence she had spent at the window, watching the things that passed and those that stayed still. But in fact she didn't see so much as hear the life inside her. She was fascinated by its noise—like the breathing of a tender child, by its sweet glow—like a newly-born plant. She still hadn't tired of existing and she was enough so much so that at times, enormously happy, she felt sadness cover her like the shadow of a blanket, leaving her as cool and silent as nightfall. She expected nothing. She was in herself, the end itself." (68)(less)

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Dec 06, 2012 Lara rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: goddard-mfa, lit-fiction

Clarice Lispector’s descriptions often blur the edges between objects and people, between different senses or emotions and between reality and fantasy. Joana has an almost playful perspective, but also one that is acutely aware of every sound, every object, to the point of assigning them personality. She expresses several times that it is to her satisfaction to experience different feelings. Even pain and sorrow are to be acknowledged because they remind her that she is alive. But each seems to...more Clarice Lispector’s descriptions often blur the edges between objects and people, between different senses or emotions and between reality and fantasy. Joana has an almost playful perspective, but also one that is acutely aware of every sound, every object, to the point of assigning them personality. She expresses several times that it is to her satisfaction to experience different feelings. Even pain and sorrow are to be acknowledged because they remind her that she is alive. But each seems to have the same value, to blend and obscure the difference between positive and negative emotion. This hyper-sensitivity causes Joana to observe herself as a different person. She begins to feel as though she has split into two people, one with thoughts and feelings, and the other who goes through the motions of living. She spends sometime enjoying this discovery of the separate selves, and then begins to think deeply about what this means, waiting for a great revelation that never comes. “Then she knew she was drained and for the first time suffered because she really had split into two, each part facing the other, watching her wishing for things that the other could no longer give.” (p, 69)
There is a definite contrast between Lispector’s treatment of Joana and her descriptions of the other characters in the novel, Otavio, Joana’s husband, and Lidia, Otavio’s lover. Otavio is concerned with practicalities and physicalities, like work and money. Lispector uses solid, concrete words to describe Lidia trough Otavio’s eyes. Whereas Lispector’s treatment of Joana is abstract and ephemeral, these two are concrete and earthbound.
But what purpose do all Joana’s blurry edges serve? Clearly Lispector has a point to make about her protagonist. A person who gives personality to an object has no reason not to objectify a person. One who sees no benefit in a positive emotion over a negative one has no concern for the negative emotion they may be responsible for causing to others. These blurred edges allow Joana to escape responsibility for the consequences of her actions. She has almost sociopathic tendencies. However, her depth of understanding and originality of perception make her the most sympathetic character.
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Nov 30, 2011 Isabel Maia rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: catalog, mine, ibero-americano-2011, original

Naquele que foi o pontapé de saída na carreira literária de Clarice Lispector, esta conta-nos a história de Joana. O seu passado e o seu presente, a sua vida da meninice até à idade adulta e todo um manancial de personagens que povoam ou povoaram a sua existência. O pai que morre quando Joana era ainda uma criança e que a incentivava a ser criança; a tia que fica chocada perante as tropelias da sobrinha; o tio fazendeiro sempre meigo com a menina mas que fazia "ouvidos moucos" às reclamações da...more

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Dec 11, 2011 Perry rated it 2 of 5 stars

Shelves: penn-library

Near to the Wild Heart is about two love triangles both of which center on this young adult named Joanna and this guy Otavio and then another girl and guy. The book is I guess kind of supposed to be their interior thoughts but , I don't know, I guess I wasn't really drawn in because their thoughts all seem to sound the same? So when the girls both have their thoughts on Otavio, I don't know, I guess I couldn't differentiate between views.

And two, part of this problem was that the focus on Otavi...more

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Aug 24, 2012 Clarice rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Uma leitura superficial de Perto do Coração Selvagem pode fazer com que se pense que se trata de um livro sobre um triângulo amoroso, quando, na verdade, este não é o ponto mais importante da obra. Mais importante que o enredo é o que se passa com o “eu interior” da personagem principal, Joana – suas reflexões. Não é um romance fácil, mas é bastante envolvente.

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May 07, 2012 Chad Post rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

There aren't enough superlatives to describe Lispector's writings. Whereas The Hour of the Star reminded me of a Virginia Woolf novel narrated by a prick, this seems much more like a Nathalie Sarraute book. One that is tricky in seeming a bit predictable or pat, but then transforming into so much more.

You win, Lispector, I'm now going to read all of your books.

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Jun 19, 2012 Jamie Ross rated it 5 of 5 stars

Stunning.
"I will surpass myself in waves, ah, Lord, and may everything come and fall upon me, even the incomprehension of myself at certain white moments because all I have to do is comply with myself and then nothing will block my path until death-without-fear, from any struggle or rest I will rise up as strong and beautiful as a young horse."

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Jan 21, 2013 Carrie Lorig rated it 4 of 5 stars

clarice is so weird and dark. and yet she is affirming and able to reap joy from her pain. the 3D of her is immense and field slaughtering. i was on the bus and i couldn't stop until the end. oh joana. joana. i fear i am you i do.

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Jul 10, 2012 Augusta rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Very Virginia Woolf with all the interior monologues. I like that sort of thing though. The language is beautiful and strange and this would be a great book for close reading. But I think the most astonishing part of this book is that Lispector was twenty-three when it was published. 23! So much talent! Now I'm looking forward to reading her other recently translated works.

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Jul 26, 2009 Mayta Quix rated it 4 of 5 stars

Deeply esoteric...and very much in parallel with Joyce's "... Portrait of the Artist..." - not only apparent in its title, but also the writing and
especially the epiphany ending - it is a tough idiosyncratic reading with perplexing characters, each carrying their own burden of conscience or their lack of it, mercilessly observed and felt by Lispector.

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Jan 09, 2013 Luis Capelo rated it 3 of 5 stars

Interessante, mas largamente descritivo. O enredo é um tanto pequeno e previsível. As descrições dos sentimentos não. É um livro para se apreciar a escrita muito mais do que originalidade da história.

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Jan 02, 2013 Rui rated it 4 of 5 stars

algumas vezes um livro é difícil.

a procura de uma mulher por deitar abaixo, ultrapassar as suas barreiras,as suas fronteiras físicas e psicológicas? uma busca pela plenitude em si mesma?

é um livro difícil.

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Jan 25, 2011 Freak rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Em alguns trechos, me sinto cansada. Em parte, porque dizem muita coisa sobre mim. O resto é porque a Clarice viaja numas que tu nem sabe mais qual é a "coisa" que ela tanto se refere. Mas é intenso.

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Aug 12, 2012 Kelley rated it 3 of 5 stars

I think I have less interest in experimental literature than I did in my twenties. I got antsy a lot while reading this; that said, there were some beautiful and arresting passages.

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May 03, 2013 Minni rated it 2 of 5 stars

Olkoon vaan feministinen merkkiteos mutten kyllä saanut mitään otetta tarinasta. Jos äkkiseltään kysytään en edes muista kuin että kertoi jostain tytöstä ja mielenheilahduksistaan. Elämä on lyhyt - jätin kesken heti alkuunsa.Siis suomalaisen version.

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Dec 11, 2009 L.J. rated it 4 of 5 stars

http://www.examiner.com/x-31054-SF-Bo...

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Dec 20, 2012 Nate rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

This is the third of the new translations of hers I've read... Didn't love it as much as the other two, but it still pretty much blew me away.

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Nov 08, 2012 dominika rated it 5 of 5 stars

Interior monologue rendered in lyrical prose and inventive structure, barely audible plot.
Sadly, as beautifully written study of life as it is, huge chunks of it resonated with too much self-absorption of the narrator and had me growing antsy pages at a time.
Comparison with chocolate seems fitting - eating an entire bar all at once will most probably make you feel nauseated, savored will leave you licking your fingers with delight.

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Jun 29, 2012 Cliff rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: 1st-10-rating, judgment-affirmed, 2012, mi-piace, paperback, lispector-throne

This might be the most perfect title ever. A tale of introspective solitude--raw and powerfully uneven.

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Oct 02, 2011 Hallie rated it 3 of 5 stars

5 short chapters in and I'm mystified but certain nuggets keep me going. I think I just don't get it yet.

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About Clarice Lispector

Clarice escrevia desde que aprendeu a ler, em Recife, onde passou parte da sua infância. Seu primeiro romance, publicado em 1944, foi chamado Perto do Coração Selvagem. Na época, a literatura brasileira era dominada por romances regionalistas mas Clarice surpreendeu a crítica ao lançar romances existencialistas.
Seu romance mais famoso é A Hora da Estrela, publicado antes de sua morte.
Clarice veio...more Clarice escrevia desde que aprendeu a ler, em Recife, onde passou parte da sua infância. Seu primeiro romance, publicado em 1944, foi chamado Perto do Coração Selvagem. Na época, a literatura brasileira era dominada por romances regionalistas mas Clarice surpreendeu a crítica ao lançar romances existencialistas.
Seu romance mais famoso é A Hora da Estrela, publicado antes de sua morte.
Clarice veio a falecer em 9 de dezembro de 1977, um dia antes de seu aniversário, de câncer.
Chegou a traduzir o livro Entrevista com o Vampiro da americana Anne Rice. Foi considerada o Kafka da literatura latino-americana pelo The New York Times em artigo publicado no dia 11 de março de 2005.

Clarice Lispector was a Brazilian writer. Acclaimed internationally for her innovative novels and short stories, she was also a journalist. Born to a Jewish family in Podolia in Western Ukraine, she was brought to Brazil as an infant, amidst the disasters engulfing her native land following the First World War.

She grew up in northeastern Brazil, where her mother died when she was nine. The family moved to Rio de Janeiro when she was in her teens. While in law school in Rio she began publishing her first journalistic work and short stories, catapulting to fame at age 23 with the publication of her first novel, Near to the Wild Heart (Perto do Coração Selvagem), written as an interior monologue in a style and language that was considered revolutionary in Brazil.[citation needed]

She left Brazil in 1944, following her marriage to a Brazilian diplomat, and spent the next decade and a half in Europe and the United States. Upon return to Rio de Janeiro in 1959, she began producing her most famous works, including the stories of Family Ties (Laços de Família) and the great mystic novel The Passion According to G.H. (A Paixão Segundo G.H.). Injured in an accident in 1966, she spent the last decade of her life in frequent pain, steadily writing and publishing novels and stories until her premature death in 1977.

She has been the subject of numerous books, and references to her and her work are common in Brazilian literature and music. Several of her works have been turned into films and she was the subject of a recent biography, Why This World, by Benjamin Moser.(less)

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Quotes from Near to the Wild Heart

“How was she to tie herself to a man without permitting him to imprison her? And was there some means of acquiring things without those things possessing her?” — 9 people liked it

“Even great men are only truly recognized and honored once they are dead. Why? Because those who praise them need to feel themselves somehow superior to the person praised, they need to feel they are making some concession. ” — 7 people liked it

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