i read this back in 2020 during the pandemic, when everything felt claustrophobic and trapped; in reading the waves i found myself floating alongside i read this back in 2020 during the pandemic, when everything felt claustrophobic and trapped; in reading the waves i found myself floating alongside the dreamy prose, like the ebb and flow of water. i felt unanchored and boundless, at least for a few hours, and it was such a kindness. this was the first novel where it didn’t feel like I was reading words at all. woolf’s language echoes and reverberates within me, extricating emotions i didn’t even know i had. while i love to the Lighthouse almost equally, the waves has an intimacy and vulnerability that her other books do not, woven through the narratives of six childhood friends, grieving the loss of another friend.
it is difficult to try and explain what this book is in the same manner as i would with others. what i found most profound and life-changing about the book is the somewhat reluctant cognizance that we are a part of a cycle, a chorus, a rhythm interconnected to those of nature around us. a brilliant portrait of growing up and getting older, of friendship and isolation, of sunrises and sunsets....more
it's that time of the year where i desperately on my knees beg for the emily henry arcit's that time of the year where i desperately on my knees beg for the emily henry arc...more
beautifully written, so grotesque and horrific, and is also such a testament to what good translation can produce. it was so bleak to the point that tbeautifully written, so grotesque and horrific, and is also such a testament to what good translation can produce. it was so bleak to the point that the entire book felt hopeless and claustrophobic, but everything about it was perfectly done (and not just bleak for the sake of being bleak, which is oftentimes my bone to pick with books that feel like this).
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new directions publishing book covers are so gorgeous i keep only buying their books...more
reading clarice lispector’s works often feels transcendental, and this was no different. but this one especially felt like running through a waterfallreading clarice lispector’s works often feels transcendental, and this was no different. but this one especially felt like running through a waterfall or a cascade of words rather than physically reading pages. the cadence and rhythm of lispector’s writing in this felt oddly hypnotic, and I felt like i was watching her stretch and fold sentences, making literature malleable in her hands. kind of a spiritual experience in a way.
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love clarice lispector so much i'm trying to pace myself with her books, like how i'm saving jane austen's sandition for my deathbed so i continue to have a will to live....more
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