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Dear Brigid, Very much like identities are fluid in your The King of a Rainy Country (1956), so the book itself refuses a label. Divided into three…… Read more “There might be nothing there”
Category: Scarlet Letters
I do not know how women do it,
Dear Júlia, In A falência (1901, “The bankruptcy”, not translated yet), I could not help but feel you were constantly hiding something in plain sight, in-between the…… Read more “I do not know how women do it,”
These women, who step out of their sphere,
Dear Margaret, Hester (1883) seems to be a deceptive title: we may be under the impression that what we have in our hands is the coming of…… Read more “These women, who step out of their sphere,”
The most beautiful and most brittle of all human things
Dear Frances, It’s a truth universally acknowledged – or, at least, in the relatively small world of your Evelina, or the History of a Young Lady’s Entrance…… Read more “The most beautiful and most brittle of all human things”
We were overcome with a kind of reverse vertigo,
Dear Annie, Reading The Years. tr. Alison L. Strayer (2017. Original: Les Années, 2008) feels very much like leafing through an old photo album, opening the contents of…… Read more “We were overcome with a kind of reverse vertigo,”
And she listened to the pounding of her heart
Dear Lydia, From the beginning, we already know that we are in for a train wreck with Sofia Petrovna (1994, translated by Aline Worth, emended by Eliza…… Read more “And she listened to the pounding of her heart”
My name, here, is the name of my fracture
Dear Albertine, Astragal (1965) opens with a leap into the sky, from one kind of prison to another – but our protagonist doesn’t know it yet. The…… Read more “My name, here, is the name of my fracture”
I shall have snow on my glassy fingers,
Dear Emily, Somewhere on the threshold of a novel and a prose poem, we have The Shutter of Snow (1930). When the book starts, we are told of…… Read more “I shall have snow on my glassy fingers,”
Hers was a nature with a wide range
Dear Sarah, In The Beth Book (1897), we feel that we are reading two very different, at times irreconcilable, books: a powerful coming of age novel and a…… Read more “Hers was a nature with a wide range”
I have tried to be honest with you,
Dear Penelope, The Pumpkin Eater (1962) is a disillusioned account of a woman’s emotional collapse, told from the fog of self-delusion and depression in which her mind seems…… Read more “I have tried to be honest with you,”
Something hot flew like a dragon at an angle through his heart,
Dear Kanoko, In the collection A Riot of Goldfish, translated by J. Keith Vincent (2010. Original: 金魚撩乱, Kingyo Ryōran, 1937/ 食魔, Shokuma, 1941), both novellas deal with…… Read more “Something hot flew like a dragon at an angle through his heart,”
You cannot live in armour all your life
Dear Maria, In Belinda (first published in 1801, revised in 1810), we can almost feel the double-edged sword you are playing with: while championing the idea that…… Read more “You cannot live in armour all your life”
It takes one word,
Dear Natalia, In Family Lexicon, tr. Jenny McPhee (2017. Original: Lessico famigliare, 1963), we have the impression of having been accepted as guests at your family’s dinner table: as we…… Read more “It takes one word,”
Things that make one’s heart beat faster
Shōnagon-san, Lists, anecdotes, poetry, and small essays surrounding fleeting moments: reading The Pillow Book (枕草子 – Makura no sōshi, c.1002) is an experiment on estrangement – like…… Read more “Things that make one’s heart beat faster”
Otherwise let this mad world crush us now
Dear Elizabeth, The Morgesons (1862) is that rare thing: a 19th-century novel with a sceptical, areligious, and probably amoral heroine. It reads like a modernist fiction avant…… Read more “Otherwise let this mad world crush us now”
Sucked into the soft, light-filled sky
Tsushima-san, In Territory of Light, tr. Geraldine Harcourt (2018. Original: 光の領分, Hikari no ryōbun, 1979), you throw your protagonist in a room flooded from all corners with a harsh, shifting…… Read more “Sucked into the soft, light-filled sky”
This lonely spot was not without its pilgrims
Dear Sarah, Much like its characters, who seem to inhabit the limbo between past and present, life and death, The Country of the Pointed Firs (1896) lies…… Read more “This lonely spot was not without its pilgrims”
Take her away and I’m half of whatever we are
Dear Dorothy, Cassandra at the Wedding (1962) is a nuanced, finely observed character study and comedy of manners, full of a dark, twisted sense of humour, which can…… Read more “Take her away and I’m half of whatever we are”
