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machistar 's review for:
An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures
by Sheila Heti, Clarice Lispector, Benjamin Moser
challenging
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Cue me: a sucker for unconventional forms of writing.
What I Loved
As always, Clarice Lispector's prose flows beautifully along the pages, inducing the reader to go over lines twice or thrice and then pause to digest its meaning. I often mourn not knowing Portuguese thinking that there might be some things not projected well upon translation, but I think this was a gorgeously crafted English version nevertheless.
I think Sheila Heti aptly calls this book what it is: a spiritual exercise. The first part of this book is more challenging to get through than the latter half, where you finally grasp what it's about. The way I understood it, it follows Loreley's (and much less visited, Ulisses') attempt of feeling complete enough to allow herself (and also himself) to fully give in to life's pleasures, which naturally, invokes restraint and then, yearning. Also: major shoutout to that ending — it's to die for. So in touch with the themes crafted by itself. So punctuating.
My Qualms
I love books that illustrate what it means to pine, and this was written in a perfectly sensual manner. Unfortunately in angles I don't find myself enjoying much. While this was packed with beautiful passages, as with any Lispector book, it is also so painfully dichotomous, which in my personal experience felt icky. The amount of emphasis on feminine and masculine energy; man and woman. I think love is enclosed on the thought of it being the synergistic unification of both (though it might be a product of its time, it felt too firm of an assertion, and that threw me off enough not to like this book as much as I've hoped to). This, in my opinion, is also a really daring piece, sometimes too esoteric that it felt pretentious. But what do I know about authenticity? It might just be honest musings bled into written work. Still, that's how it comes across to me.
Overall, definitely a book I see revisiting. I'll probably try to be more open-minded about it the next time. In the same vein, I'll try disillusioning myself from the profound way the book's lines present themselves and comprehend it in a much learned manner. Whether I'll like it less or more the second time around is up in the air.
What I Loved
As always, Clarice Lispector's prose flows beautifully along the pages, inducing the reader to go over lines twice or thrice and then pause to digest its meaning. I often mourn not knowing Portuguese thinking that there might be some things not projected well upon translation, but I think this was a gorgeously crafted English version nevertheless.
I think Sheila Heti aptly calls this book what it is: a spiritual exercise. The first part of this book is more challenging to get through than the latter half, where you finally grasp what it's about. The way I understood it, it follows Loreley's (and much less visited, Ulisses') attempt of feeling complete enough to allow herself (and also himself) to fully give in to life's pleasures, which naturally, invokes restraint and then, yearning. Also: major shoutout to that ending — it's to die for. So in touch with the themes crafted by itself. So punctuating.
My Qualms
I love books that illustrate what it means to pine, and this was written in a perfectly sensual manner. Unfortunately in angles I don't find myself enjoying much. While this was packed with beautiful passages, as with any Lispector book, it is also so painfully dichotomous, which in my personal experience felt icky. The amount of emphasis on feminine and masculine energy; man and woman. I think love is enclosed on the thought of it being the synergistic unification of both (though it might be a product of its time, it felt too firm of an assertion, and that threw me off enough not to like this book as much as I've hoped to). This, in my opinion, is also a really daring piece, sometimes too esoteric that it felt pretentious. But what do I know about authenticity? It might just be honest musings bled into written work. Still, that's how it comes across to me.
Overall, definitely a book I see revisiting. I'll probably try to be more open-minded about it the next time. In the same vein, I'll try disillusioning myself from the profound way the book's lines present themselves and comprehend it in a much learned manner. Whether I'll like it less or more the second time around is up in the air.