The Hour of the Star by Clarice Lispector is by far one of my favorite reads of the class so far. It was chilling and deeply moving, and had a very intense effect when read in one sitting. Macabéa, the subject of Rodrigo’s narration, lives a life of great external suffering yet even greater internal freedom. All of Rodrigo’s musings on perception and reality, in combination with Macabéa’s uncertainty of her own existence, made me wonder if she was even a real person or rather a figment of Rodrigo’s imagination. Upon finishing the book, I think it may be fair to say that both are true, for, as the narrator states, “[Macabéa] believed in angels, and because she believed in them, they existed.”
I was struck by Rodrigo and Macabéa’s characterizations of solitude. Having just finished One Hundred Years of Solitude, the concept was still top-of-mind. Both Rodigo and Macabéa find great peace and strength in their solitude: “My strength undoubtedly resides in solitude. I am not afraid of tempestuous storms or violent gales for I am also the night’s darkness;” “[Macabéa] could enjoy at long last the greatest privilege of all: solitude” (18; 41). These passages stand in stark contrast to those of the Buendía family, who felt endlessly haunted and tormented by their solitude.
Throughout the book, we are aware that Macabéa is enduring abject poverty, with barely enough to feed or clean herself. The narrator says that she is so poor that she cannot even afford to possess self-awareness, “Were she foolish enough to ask herself ‘Who am I?’, she would fall flat on her face. For the question ‘Who am I?’ creates a need. And how does one satisfy that need?” (16). I thought it was beautiful and devastating that right before the moment of her untimely death, she seemed to finally encounter her own self. She had become fully embodied and conscious from the pure excitement of her promised future. “For at the hour of death you become a celebrated film star, it is a moment of glory for everyone, when the choral music scales the top notes” (28). As foretold, when Macabéa had finally possessed self-awareness, she fell on her face, knocked over by a lavish car, and was serenaded by a fiddler, a candle, and on-lookers who finally “gave her an existence” (81). At the closing moments of her life, she had finally arrived at herself and became the star she’d always dreamed of being.
There are so many other things I’d like to say about this book that unfortunately won’t fit here. But I will certainly be reflecting on Lispector’s words for a long time to come. Question for discussion: What, if any, do you think is the purpose or symbolism of the narrator, Rodrigo’s, recurring insecurity around blame, ethics, and perception? Claiming to be the only one who loves Macabéa and yet the one who fails to save her life, what, if anything, does Rodrigo owe her?
Hi Marisa 😀
Thank you for sharing all your wonderful ideas!
Rodrigo S.M. is the one who narrates the story of Macabéa and gives us all the information about her. Rodrigo describes her as undernourished, ugly (SO FREQUENCY!), dirty, innocent, and unfeeling. After he continually referred to her as ugly, I began to think this way; how can we know about her unloveliness and ugliness? (I have never seen a narrator describe the main character as ugly so many times.) I believe Lispector is conveying to us that this is how men judge and evaluate women. It is men who determine beauty and ugliness. Macabéa’s values and true character are woven into the thread of the story, despite the narrator, and we are left to judge whether she is truly ugly and worthless and consider the injustice of her life.
Thank you Marisa for your attentive and insightful reading. “I thought it was beautiful and devastating that right before the moment of her untimely death from her, she seemed to finally encounter her own self from her.” The novel moves around this question, about the relationship between existence, finiteness and consciousness, among others, of course. The narrator tells us about Macabea just the elementary features so that we feel it with a certain effect of reality, although he constantly reminds us that it is her invention. How does a fictional being affect us? Is it a kind of faith that we need to profess to enter literature? And what does this tell us about ourselves?
Hi Marisa. I enjoyed how you explored the solitude in the two main characters in this book, because I think the contrast with how each person deals with their solitude is what makes it so interesting. Macabéa is truly free despite her solitude, but Rodrigo interprets his solitude as something more hindering. You highlight Macabéa’s experience of poverty in a way that I also shared; it was so beautiful, yet as you say devastating, that she encounters true peace and self right before her life ends. How quickly beautiful things become tragic. I think Rodrigo is insecure in his own right about himself, perhaps his masculinity, and his state of life, and projects this onto Macabéa. As Macabéa is a character he is creating, he can sort of ‘do what he pleases’ with her, but I do think he maybe ‘owes’ her peace. By killing her, I suppose Rodrigo is putting her out of her misery, and he also loved her (of course she is something his mind has made up) so perhaps he thinks he is doing the right thing.
“She encounters true peace and self right before her life ends. How quickly beautiful things become tragic.” Thanks for this Julia:)