From the depths I call
thee, from the depths I call thee from the depths I call thee from the depths I
call thee…
A celebration of life, rising up, from the depths…Welcome to
the world of Clarice Lispector, and her debut novel “Near to the Wild Heart”.
Written in 1943 in Portuguese, and released to instantaneous success, we have a
new translation from New Directions in 2012. Clarice Lispector, born in Western
Ukraine, exiled to Brazil as part of the emigration from Europe during World
War II, a war that killed her mother and grandfather, she had this work published
at age twenty-three. And what a debut it is…
We begin with Joana, our protagonist, as a child, who loves
to heighten her emotions by watching the clock. “Now, when happiness or anger
happened she’d run to the clock and watch the seconds in vain.” So we are
introduced to an emotionally aware young girl:
She wasn’t worn out from crying.
She understood that her father had ended. That was all. And her sadness was a
big heavy tiredness, without anger. She walked along the immense beach with it.
She looked at her feet dark and think like twigs against the quiet whiteness
where they sank in and from where they rose up rhythmically, in a breath. She
walked, walked and there was nothing to be done: her father was dead.
This is a simple tale of Joana’s life, her being orphaned at
a young age, her marriage, chapters where she listens in to discussions about
her deceased mother and of course (as above) her father.
Our heroine here, Joana can “think and feel along several
different paths at the same time.” Just like our novel! The introduction tells
us that this was constructed from pieces of ideas jotted down in a notebook
whenever they occurred. But this is not a disjointed tale, it is full of raw
emotion, a depth of what it means to exist, a reflection on a lost childhood, a
life of innocence but at the same time mature, and a hotchpotch of living.
I don’t miss it, because I have
my childhood more now than when it was happening…
Our tale takes us back to when she was sent to boarding
school, by her aunt who could not control her and Joana steals a book. In her
private teaching there is a hint of sexual tension between Joana and her
teacher, “The teacher was distant again, his hand withdrawn, lips downturned,
indifferent as if Joana was nothing but his “little friend”.”
A very intriguing an
deep novel, we move from the minutae of daily extistence straight into the
grand themes, for example we go from, “Love so strong that its passion was only
curbed by the strength of hatred” to “her aunt handed her the bread plate in
silence. Her uncle didn’t take his eyes off the plate.” Is this banal or is it
showing the extreme movements that we have in each living moment?
From a plot perspective we have a simple tale, for example
the chapter “The little family” is about her husband Otavio’s writing, her
impact on him, he lust for life, his for order. We learn of Otavio’s lover and
his different manner in her presence. Again grand themes mixed with the banal.
She feared the days, one after another, without surprises,
of pure devotion to a man. To a man who would freely use of all his wife’s
forces for his own bonfire, in a serene, unconscious sacrifice of everything
that wasn’t his own personality. IT was a false rebellion, an attempt at
liberation that came above all with great fear of victory. She’d seek for a few
days to take an attitude of independence, which she only achieved with some
success in the mornings, when she woke up, when she still hadn’t seen him. All it
took was his presence, merely sensed, for her entire self to annul itself and
wait. At night, alone in her room, she wanted him. All of her nerves, all of
her sick muscles. So she resigned herself. Resignation was sweet and fresh. She
had been born for it.
Yes we are talking a novel written in the 1940’s a misogynistic
tale.
Yes she thought distantly,
staring at him – there are indestructible things that accompany the body to
death as if they had been born with it. And one of them is what is created between
a man and a woman who have experienced certain moments together.
In the chapter “The Encounter With Otavio” Joana simply
watches her husband sleep, expresses her fears and finally falls asleep in his
arms “Joana sleeping deeply, almost for the first time in her life, trusting
herself to a man who was asleep beside her”. We then move to the emotions
associated with jealousy, where Joana is invited into his mistresses, Lidia’s, home
to discuss the situation, both are pregnant. It may appear as though I’m giving
away a lot of the plot here, but the narrative or story is not important here,
it is the inner machinations of our Joana (or Clarice?) which are the true
revelation.
How to end Joana’s story? If she
could take the look she had caught on Lidia and add it: no one will love you…Yes,
end like that: even though she was one of those creatures that are straggling
and alone in the world, no one had ever thought to give Joana anything. Not
love, they always gave her some other emotion. She lived her life, avid as a
virgin – and would be to the grave. She asked herself many questions, but could
never answer herself: she’d stop in order to feel. How was a triangle born? as an
idea first? or did it come after the shape had been executed? would a triangle
be born fatally? things were rich. – She would want to spend time on the
question. But love invaded her. Triangle, circle, straight lines…as harmonious
and mysterious as an arpeggio, Where does music go when it’s not playing? – she
asked herself. And disarmed she would answer: may they make a harp out of my
nerves when I die.
Who talks to us in this story? It blends first and third
person, is it a narrator, is it Joana, is it Clarice hiding as Joana? A
meditation on existence, immortality and death.
From the depths I call
thee, from the depths I call thee from the depths I call thee from the depths I
call thee…
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