In one of her skillfully composed articles, Lispector describes the moments we experience when unconsciously emulating the behavior of someone else. She is traveling and in close proximity to a missionary woman, or nun we suppose, whose movements and demeanor she can’t help but study. The effect is one of contagion. She herself begins to assume a holy countenance and step about in a sort of controlled glide, feet moving above the earth. Later she encounters a prostitute and wittingly decides to experiment and imitate. She puts on a sultry stare and flirtatious cigarette, with some perfume as well. But her experiment is a failure, not because she cannot be that way, we are to assume, but because she consciously chooses to make an attempt. Whereas with the missionary, she would rather avoid taking on her habits, if you will, even not think about it, and by so avoiding the attempt, she succeeds at it. Zen.

Accordingly, a writer finds it impossible to not try and mimic some of Lispector’s language of contemplation and appraisal. The rhythm of her prose and rhetoric of certainty and persuasion gets into one’s writing machinery. 

The crónicas are selected daily news articles Lispector wrote for a newspaper in Río de Janeiro. Her topics come forward one after another. Relentless observation and insight. Honesty. Although she said journalism was not her speed, her readers must have certainly enjoyed what she offered each day. Topics offering a buffet of soul food for thought and rumination: the animal within us; assumptions we make; gifts; belonging or not; laziness and reliance on others; uncertain inquiries; odd habits; chickens and eggs; an ordinary married couple…and on the subjects go, often intersecting and chemically working with other themes throughout the book. Some say her writing has the power of witchcraft.

Clarice Lispector, born into a Jewish family in the Ukraine in 1920, moved with her family at an early age to Brazil. Her writing has been largely off the radar in America. New Directions Books has brought her back to circulation and renewed popularity by republishing all of her works, as translated from the Portuguese. If, as they say, Portuguese is the most beautiful language of them all, I wish I knew it well so I could read her original prose.

She died in 1977.