He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life.” A newspaper colleague recalled his amazement. He suggested a title, borrowed from James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which Clarice had not yet read: “He was alone. “When I reread what I’ve written,” she said, “I feel like I’m swallowing my own vomit.” A friend, the slightly older writer Lúcio Cardoso, assured her that the fragments were a book in themselves. At length the book took shape, but she feared it was more a pile of notes than a full-fledged novel. To concentrate, she quit the tiny maid’s room in the apartment she shared with her sisters and brother-in-law and spent a month in a nearby boardinghouse. Confused, “groping in the darkness,” she started by jotting down ideas in a notebook. When Clarice Lispector began writing Near to the Wild Heart, in March 1942, she was a twenty-two year old law student who had recently begun work as a journalist. Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector
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