Nothing, nothing, only that my nerves were now awake– my nerves that had been calm or simply arranged? Had my silence been a silence or a high mute voice?” (pg.36) What d id she want, that woman who is me? What was happening to a G.H. “How to explain, except that something I don’t understand was happening. This photo was taken with a disposable camera when I went to the PNE back in August As her transformation progresses, G.H starts to piece together a new identity, someone who is her more authentic self. She realizes that living life exclusively from the perspective of those around you leads to living a false life, an imitation of life.

Throughout the novel, the narrator reevaluates her identity and her own self-image. Which potentially represents the narrator’s own perspective of herself as a character through other people’s eyes. We only know our narrator by her initials that are found on her suitcase, not by her own name. More explicitly the perspective of others imposed on G.H. An arc that I found throughout the beginning of the novel was the idea of perspective. She endures a lot of deep inner rumination and seems to decipher value and meaning from things that others would find mundane. This novel tells the story of a woman going through a revelation or transformation. I’m not sure if I completely grasped the entire meaning of this novel however, these are my initial thoughts…

However, as soon as I gave up trying to decipher it and simply took it in for what it was I found that I not only started to enjoy it but also that my brain was subconsciously piecing together some sort of narrative. I certainly felt lost and confused upon starting this novel and therefore found it hard to enjoy. Although this idiosyncratic novel will not have wide appeal, those with academic or markedly erudite tastes should like it very much.“The Passion According to G.H” is a novel that could very easily be labeled difficult and convoluted and therefore not worth anyone’s time. For how will I be able to speak without the word lying for me?'' These linguistic games frame existential and experiential crises that Lispector savors and overcomes. The first-person narration jousts with language, playfully but forcefully examining the ambiguous nature of words, with results ranging from the profound to the pretentious: ``Prehuman divine life is a life of singeing nowness'' or ``The world interdepended with me, and I am not understanding what I say, never! never again shall I understand what I say. Availing herself of a single character, Lispector transforms a banal situationa woman at home, aloneinto an amphitheater for philosophical investigations. Aficionados of South American fiction as well as literary critics will welcome this posthumous translation of a nearly plotless novel by one of Brazil's foremost writers.

The passion according to gh