Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector
“Everything I possess is very deep within me. One day, after speaking at last, will I still have something to live for? Or will everything I say fall short of or beyond life? I try to push away everything that is a life form. I try to isolate myself in order to find life in itself.”
Near to the Wild Heart goes beyond fiction. It is vivid, expressive, and passionate. The book cradles more than the contours of a novel. It’s like a fragile ship floating on the sea, we don’t know whether it’s abandoned, forgotten, or lost. But it still floats in a mysterious and quiet sort of way. The tides and wind push it toward the horizon; it’s a sweet and extraordinary voyage.
On reading the book, there are many things to discover about the visceral nature of the story. The writing caters to that recess of the mind which is perhaps the loneliest. The root of one’s body and soul that feels sadness and joy ruthlessly. That’s where everything is sought, isn’t it? Our reason for laughter and profound seriousness is buried and burrowed there.
I will reiterate what I said about Lispector’s The Passion According to G.H. and that is that some stories aren’t stories at all. They are transient realities of dreams: more perplexing than dreams and more grounded than reality. And what you find within such stories are revealingly imaginative, melancholic, and seductive. This novel won’t cling to you for life. It has a heart and pulse of its own.
Not an eventful story but it does eternalize the ordinariness of existence. Her stream-of-consciousness narrative is electric as it is a beacon that defines the relationship between self, nature, and the passing of time. This is what makes the novel poetically metaphoric and fierce. While also illuminating the beauty of uncertainty in loving others. And to fathom everything that goes into loving yourself.