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neshasurya 's review for:
The Apprenticeship, or The Book of Pleasures
by Clarice Lispector
okay so no one warned me that this book would read like a spiritual crisis disguised as a love story??? like. i picked it up thinking it’d be poetic and weird (it is), but what i got was a slow unraveling of emotional armor in real time. it’s giving "what if being vulnerable was the scariest thing of all?"
lóri (the main character) is basically the blueprint for every emotionally avoidant girl trying to heal. she’s guarded, detached, living in this haze of “don’t get too close.” then this guy, ulisses, tells her she has to grow before they can be together. not change who she is—not become someone else—but evolve. and she actually listens. and the rest of the book is her trying to figure out how the hell to do that.
the whole thing is slow and spiritual and weirdly romantic?? not in a typical swoony way, but in a “maybe loving someone means finally letting yourself be seen” kind of way. it’s a love story, sure, but the real tension is between lori and herself. her fear of being seen. her fear of softening. of being instead of doing. and that hit way too close.
it’s my first lispector read, and i was absolutely mesmerized by the prose. her stream-of-consciousness style might not be for everyone — it’s slippery and abstract and kind of refuses to be pinned down — but for me, it was really special. her writing feels like she’s whispering something holy and strange and urgent into your ear. not gonna lie, i underlined half the book because lispector says things that feel like truths, even when you don’t totally understand them.
also, lispector really said “let’s talk about god and existence and the void and how terrifying it is to be alive but also how weirdly beautiful it is too.” and like?? i was NOT emotionally prepared. this book doesn’t hold your hand—it just stares at you until you start asking yourself questions you’ve been avoiding for years.
i’ll be real, it’s not a book i’d recommend to everyone. if you want plot, action, or even a clear sense of what’s going on at all time, this ain’t it. but if you’ve ever been afraid of intimacy, afraid of letting go, afraid of just being a human in the world—yeah, this one might wreck you (in the best way).
will i be rereading it? probably. do i know what half of it means? not really. but did it change me a little? yeah. yeah, it did.
lóri (the main character) is basically the blueprint for every emotionally avoidant girl trying to heal. she’s guarded, detached, living in this haze of “don’t get too close.” then this guy, ulisses, tells her she has to grow before they can be together. not change who she is—not become someone else—but evolve. and she actually listens. and the rest of the book is her trying to figure out how the hell to do that.
the whole thing is slow and spiritual and weirdly romantic?? not in a typical swoony way, but in a “maybe loving someone means finally letting yourself be seen” kind of way. it’s a love story, sure, but the real tension is between lori and herself. her fear of being seen. her fear of softening. of being instead of doing. and that hit way too close.
it’s my first lispector read, and i was absolutely mesmerized by the prose. her stream-of-consciousness style might not be for everyone — it’s slippery and abstract and kind of refuses to be pinned down — but for me, it was really special. her writing feels like she’s whispering something holy and strange and urgent into your ear. not gonna lie, i underlined half the book because lispector says things that feel like truths, even when you don’t totally understand them.
also, lispector really said “let’s talk about god and existence and the void and how terrifying it is to be alive but also how weirdly beautiful it is too.” and like?? i was NOT emotionally prepared. this book doesn’t hold your hand—it just stares at you until you start asking yourself questions you’ve been avoiding for years.
i’ll be real, it’s not a book i’d recommend to everyone. if you want plot, action, or even a clear sense of what’s going on at all time, this ain’t it. but if you’ve ever been afraid of intimacy, afraid of letting go, afraid of just being a human in the world—yeah, this one might wreck you (in the best way).
will i be rereading it? probably. do i know what half of it means? not really. but did it change me a little? yeah. yeah, it did.