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After recently being blown away by Lispector's The Hour of the Star I was hoping for more of the same with this, but ended up finding it a far more difficult nut to crack. She takes the most banal of situations involving a woman alone in a room with a cockroach and turns it into a sort of philosophical exploration. There is some Camus in there, Sartre too, and yes even Kafka.
The setting maybe a single room but it is as much taking place within the human soul. Through G.H. the first-person narrator, Lispector jousts with language playfully, but forcefully examining the ambiguous nature of words resulted in a range that went from the disturbing to the profound to the pretentious. The existential crisis theme is blended with an experimental edge that I found just went too far. It's plotless narrative will likely mean it's one for those with erudite tastes rather than the wider masses. Lispector further expands the reach of her text with networks of metaphor, and makes language the medium of both imprisonment and liberation. It has the feel of a manual for meditation, a set of spiritual exercises leading to new plane of being, a more authentic relation with the world, one self, and others. She certainly does everything with a European touch, and roots her French imports deep into the Brazilian soil. The result was a provocative hybrid of both fascination and bewilderment. It will likely leave those who have a fear of confined spaces and blattodea insects with clammy hands.