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Stars in a black river flowing tear-like across the immensely lonely regions of the world
I see before me pieces of the human condition, bound together by the umbrella of a narrative that does not quite make any sense. Names reel in and out of sight, like stars in a black river flowing tear-like across the immensely lonely regions of the world. It is obvious that this book is written by someone who does not write merely to communicate, but out of an intrinsic appreciation for words. It reveals a great many truths about the human condition, and its endless perplexities, without shying away from the irreconcilable mystery that lies at the bottom of the universe. Continue reading
The Desire for Transcendence
THE WRITER: The desire for transcendence is itself a transcendent aspect of human nature, because it entails an already-present awareness of the transcendent, and a recognition of the possibility of becoming transcendent. The writer, Rodrigo, desires for transcendence through writing, through the act of soul-searching and making discoveries about the human condition. Continue reading
Posted in Home, Lispecter, My Favorite Reviews
Tagged death, fiction, identity, life, Lispector, literature, love, reality, reflection, The Hour of the Star
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NEBULOSITY
Confusing. Figuring things out not by their form but by the convoluted trails of meaning formed by dense sentences, juxtaposing verses, and half-conscious dreams. This book is a forest of question marks. “I am no puzzle-maker, no wizard of chess, no physician of letters. I am only a p-poor, poor reader!” But the author lies silent. He has died. The pages are silent, but so full. And from its fullness, I am at once informed of the fact that life is hard, very hard, and that instead of shedding shy tears like a shameful dove on a solitary perch, I should simply continue with the task at hand. Continue reading
Posted in Breton, Home, My Favorite Reviews
Tagged absurdity, Breton, identity, life, literature, love, Nadja, reality, surrealism
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