The title of the book should have gave me more of a clue as to how it was going to near my own Wild Heart. It's been a few days since finishing this short piece. The beginning was something I had to work through, being that the narration is of childhood but the connection grew as the host of the thoughts and feelings grew.
Near to the Wild Heart examines the range of human connectivity, exposing the spectrum that we exist on. What happens when no-one fights for us? What drives us to strive for the love of others? Is selfishness such a denied attribute to being human that it is seen as evil? Do we all just grow up and go play; go find something to do, to occupy ourselves; hear time passing as loud as crashing waves, lay in that sea water?
Rousing poetry that demonstrates the unnamable feeling carried in the psyche since it first damages you.
I’m glad you liked it.She’s just an egg. This was the first Lispector I read and I feel like at times I couldn’t tell if she was a genius or just shower thoughts of an ambitious 22 year old. I think it showed her raw potential especially since it wasn’t supposed to be a full novel until she was convinced to make it one. I will be looking forward to reading the next in the quartet.
What not having Tumblr in 1943 does to a girl