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Tag Archives: literature
Silence, Sadness, Perpetual Solitude
A lively swing of events rolls into place at the beginning of the novel, full of musical brilliance, unknown voices, and objects scattered across empty spaces. This is a book of wavering stars. And in this midst of it all there is a shadow of contemplation which is the shadow of the main character, Natalia, flitting in the form of text across cigarette-like pages of ash and ink, carrying all of her sensitiveness and feminine daintiness across the scenes, and, with her own private reflections, uncovers the isolated mysteries of human life beneath its whirlpool of ordinary affairs. Continue reading
Posted in Home, Rodoreda
Tagged childhood, death, family, life, literature, love, memories, poverty, reality, reflection, relationships, Rodoreda, The Time of the Doves, war
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we are at once conscious of the unspeakable absurdities of life
With the first chapter of the book we are at once conscious of the unspeakable absurdities of life, of a thumping rhythm of isolation carrying its beat across desolate roads, into unsolved conflicts, and through crowds of unknown faces, leading us towards some sort of brighter establishment of purpose towards which the trajectory of our lives are directed. Continue reading
Posted in Home, Laforet
Tagged family, fiction, Laforet, life, literature, Nada, poverty, reality, reflection, relationships
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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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