ploidia's Book Journey

o que te escrevo continua e estou enfeitiçada

a book that is many. metalanguage and metaphor all clumped up together. before reading this i remember thinking, 'is clarice really that good?'. how awful of me. she is everything and more. (yes, i read her back in high school, but this felt like my first official lispector)

i understand why she's the go-to brazilian writer for the europeans (although i still find it shameful that machado de assis is not as recognized as she is in my social circles). however, i also understand how she might not be for everybody. água viva, for example, is a diary entry from an artist; one that paints pictures and words. and it is so self reflective and self aware! it's like it knows it's alive. a lot of pieces to piece together and a lot of meanings to dissect; some of them will go over your head, others will stick. it's a few pages that read like centuries of prose. it's also very quick.

the lack of chapters makes you decide where to stop the reading; organic chapters, i call it. also, she was hornier than i expected in some parts. respect. there's no clear ending for this review. it continues.