Acervo
Credits: Clarice Lispector Collection/Moreira Salles Institute
Author: Clarice Lispector
Title: Hope
Date: 1975
Note: Oil on wood, 30.2 x 39.7 cm
Credits: Clarice Lispector Collection/Moreira Salles Institute
Author: Clarice Lispector
Title: Cave Interior
Date: 1960
Note: Oil on wood, 30.7 x 56 cm
[cover]
MEMO BOOK
*Note: All passages in italics were originally written in English.
[drawings]
The question is: if I became completely still, would the next moment ever come? The answer is: “no it wouldn’t come, I have to make it”; Translated: if I don’t go to the person, would ever the person come to me? The answer: “no, if I don’t go to the person to make with her my next moment, nobody will come to me”. Even more translated, in term of the past: “nobody at home came to me, I had to ask and beg and caress,
and give warmth, till the person would give me some attention”. Tania said: “till you were about 10, I was not very aware of you, suddenly I became aware how interesting you were” I suppose she really meant: I became aware how much you needed me.
I don’t know what to do when the person comes to me; I’m the one to go to the person. To be selected is disturbing. I have to ask, I have to select.
I’m afraid to lose “protection” — what kind of protection? What is the idea I make of having protection, of being protected? It is to have everything, and not to have the anxiety of the duty to give something in return? Protection of [presence]? Enough protection, so I’m able not to be afraid of going and be free, because I know I have where to return.
Dream – Two days before trip. Before dreaming: conscious thought: “I’m returning to the place where I came from. Ideally I’d go to the small Russian village, and be born again with another basis. Dream: a public meeting place, a pathetic important person (a man) was judging, I would or wouldn’t be selected (I think to go to Russia or
not), the audience was sitting in a circle – and in the middle, in the emptiness of the stage, the table, sat the very grave man, whom I was afraid of, I was called, and I sought to act in the most correct manner, gesture and words. He was accusing me in public. And he finally said I couldn’t go because in Russia only feminine women entered – and not me
betrayed myself
For I wasn’t. He had noticed two of my gestures, and what they symbolized. 1st) I had lit my own cigarette, but a woman waits with her cigarette until a man lights it 2nd) I myself moved the chair closer to the table, when I should have waited for him to do it for me. So I defended myself, I began to wake up, and I was already talking to [ILLEGIBLE] and trying
to defend myself, explaining that I couldn’t wait for someone to light a cigarette for me, I don’t know what other explanations.
Protection
Thinking about having protection – Thoughts that occurred to me and caused me anguish: I want anybody to hold my hand — (Daddy, when I was in pain, that’s how you helped me to bear pain) — I don’t want to be a single body, I’m cut out from the rest of me — the rest of me is my [mother]? [at] is another body.
To have a single body, surrounded by [rotation], it makes such a limited body. I feel anxiety, I’m afraid to be just one body. A little ball of mercury in the broken thermometer. — My fear and anxiety is of being one body.
1) 5 days – at the most
when I found out it wasn’t due to illness, it was travel I again asked– because otherwise it wouldn’t be possible to go.
2) [Vania], in Washington, asked if the plans suited me.
3) Flowers – I didn’t send any because I was there as her secretary. “But I’ll send chocolate to the child” I sent it [ILLEGIBLE] – – – – –
4) Drink in the room – do you want ice? No, you don’t want [denise] and I to get drunk?
5) In Paris, the bills she – someone is [tricking] [ILLEGIBLE] someone. Return her, pay me at night, you have to suck up the 4 cents.6) Return – saying she didn’t decide – saying to the man another week maybe I ask let me know telegraph child, why don’t you stay [more]? Well, until Wednesday, because I have a [ILLEGIBLE] on Thursday – didn’t ask me – never asking me if [ILLEGIBLE], never referring to the fact that to me and to everybody just 5 days, the maxim. be 3 days [ILLEGIBLE] 2 days in Paris.
6) I didn’t let anyone make a case out of me…
7) [ILLEGIBLE] – [ILLEGIBLE] of [ILLEGIBLE] didn’t say you were [neglect] – [ILLEGIBLE] – [never] you were [neglect]
8) He is my slave
9) One week – [dam]’s makes the reservationThen: every day, hours before – only [ILLEGIBLE] has to have reservations, so not to have to displace 2 other people. From that she changed, even to me, that was there – as a way of making know what she thinks and wants — that the only day we could go was Monday, but we would have to displace people — so better Tuesday I said. no, he said – he didn’t answer, didn’t like. And the thing became
like that: I’ll make reservat. not on Monday, but Tuesday, because the Embassy in Paris might [probably] will invite me.
[bills]
[Dinerzade] –
Read –
Latin America =
[drawings]
Day 16 – Friday
I lent 70 dollars to Alzira
Alzira lent me 40 of hers
Alzira owes me 30 dollars
—
Dia 17 Saturday (I have 14,000)
I owe Alzira:
3,536 (perfumes)
? 5,000 (dinner [Dinerzade])
? 2,000 (theater Sunday)
? 2,000 (theater Monday)
? 5,000 (dinner [ete])
—
? 17,536
I would have to be used [precariously] – (forcing me doing everything possible for me to go, and then saying that she went to the I had probably gone because of her? How absurd)
That’s how Tania did it: the balls, forcing for me to accompany her – They were grown ups,
I asked myself if I avoid getting close to people because I’m afraid of coming to hate them. I don’t get along with any[one]. I don’t have tolerance
— She told me, that I [harshly] that I am a person to whom it is difficult to give affection. I answered: well, I’m not the type who [breathes] affection. Her: you
almost push away the hand that is given to help you. Sometimes you need help, but don’t ask. Me: you say [to me] I don’t know how to ask. Her: you never ask Her: it’s strange how you’re humble and submissive. But it’s a rebellious submission [–] you give just the power of your fingers. My anger because. For I had a migraine due to not knowing tension, due to not knowing if I was doing everything right. I answered I ended up saying preoccupation children.
Dream: I was leaving a place where I was living, and I was very happy, and I was going to see Paulo. I was going to the children’s hospital, my heart beating with desire to see him. He was in the
Pierre de [Lescure]:
When I asked what he thought of [me] (more or less this) he answered: what was surprising is a certain tendency for me to become cerebral, (which normally can’t be intelligent), when everything in the novel is by a femme passiveé. And when he saw my we had the fight by letter, the passiveé side was confirmed. When he saw the portrait, it was confirmed again. And seeing me now it was confirmed again. For
Why this cerebral part that I don’t need? he said. A novelist should not be intelligent except to rewrite the book. Matisse repainted 7, 8 times a canvas.
Color charme cendre (Wella)
(Henry A. Kissinger – Harvard Center for International Affairs)
(What worries you most about America today)“The extraordinary passivity of our attitudes. Our rejection of the tragic aspect of life. We assure you can get what you want by wanting it badly enough. We tend to turn all our problems into administrative ones. We seem to be willing to do anything so long as it engages us only between the hours of nine and five. I don’t believe you can substitute good intentions for profound thought or for the anguish which is inseparable from
the creative. We cannot be spectators to our own fate. In a time of such enormous changes in all areas of our national life, we cannot look to the past for the answers. We must risk ourselves in finding new answers or we will disintegrate psychologically and morally.”
She who was urbanized and industrialized but an agrarian inheritance had come from way back
No, no, I don’t want to be me only because I have my own self. What I want is the extreme connection between the land of Brazil and me.
She had succumbed to an irresponsible desire to be possessed without being connected to the man
Nonetheless she had to struggle against her tendency to divinize man, she admired him so. Human beings Man in contrast with woman in man, he felt the
whirl of being alive in her, which was primitive and direct
No! I don’t want to be Platonic in relation to myself. I am deeply defeated by the world in which I live. And I separated myself from people because of my defeat and the idea that others were also
defeated. She didn’t want to be part of a world where the rich devour the poor. Since it seemed to her to be just an idealist movement, her joining those who struggled against the crushing of life like the movement was, she then enclosed herself in an individualization that, if she weren’t careful
could turn transform itself into a hysterical and contemplative solitude as touching as it would be in this situation, she sought not to communicate with the world through her own solitude.
[bills and drawings]
[drawings]
[bills]
(she gave me 3,750 in change)
She says she owes me 38,315
70,00 or 46,915
67,00 or 43,165
[bills]
[drawings]
38,315 – Alzira owes me
20,000 – I owe Alzira
______
18,315 – Alzira only owes this
If it was not my wanting of closeness that didn’t make me angry with him. I was fighting my wanting of closeness. But truly was I fighting? Because he would push me away? I can see him pushing me away gently.
I couldn’t marry someone with his name.
[drawings]
[back cover]
[cover]
NOTES
“DE LUXE” SPIRAL N.o 14 – Registered trademark.
Patented process under N.o 29.839
Made in Brazil
be dead or pretend to be the sea.
pg 45 —
“Pénétrons plus avant dans son monde à lui, puis qu’il est un de ces rares poètes qui allut réussi ce que tout d’autres nous annoncent sans toujours nos offrir [ILEGÍVEL]: un monde qui ne ressemble pas à celui que nous connaissons et qui
s’impose à nous pourtant avec la même évidence”.
Bertelé.
“On fait effort continuel pour se banaliser. Le rêve, qui paraît drôle, provient de ce que l’homme se parlant à lui-même cesse de se gêner” (Henri Michaux)
“Rien de l’imagination volontaire des professionnels. Ni thèmes, ni développements, ni construction, ni méthode.” (H.M.)
“…expérimenter les pouvoirs de l’esprit…”
Bertelé
There’s an event that surrounds me, it’s due to me, it’s like me. Is it from outside or inside? It’s trying to get closer. I feel it more like a malaise. I’m sure it will resolve everything. I really miss this time lived without it, where I
became accustomed to a way of thinking, where everything is, for good or bad, in a place. I yearn for the event, but wishing to postpone it, taking good advantage of the day, distracting myself, dazing myself. Several times I felt that if I would stop, it would approach and reveal itself. But
even before going to sleep I read so as not to give it space. But today while I was waiting for the tram that shouldn’t be long, I got distracted and here I am, obliged to look. I don’t know what it was, because before I saw it I already recognized it and without giving me time to
let me ask it-give it a name I kneeled fell to my knees before it, like a slave. My heart was beating and what had to happen was happening. What is it, what is it? asked the wings of swallows because I myself did not have any more courage
That is how the deepest presentiment came to me: not even I am your master. The others knew more about it. Whatwasthat? ask the tree [branches]. And what happened to me answers only for the voice
of space. And if the trees understand, I continue blind, deaf. Like a child who Like adults gathered in a group talking about a child.
+
I call this malaise [before] things meditation.
I hate that they wait for me. It’s not out of politeness or fear of disappointing. It’s that someone waiting for me is a fear of not being alone.
+
There’s a place I go when I want to really think, or sleep or see. If it was [+] close, I would say that it is in the left corner of my head. But it is so much
further, it is much beyond where I end. The worst part is that I am still me. I know that it is taken from the left and it is dark and that one gives up taking anyone or anything with. It looks like a place to sleep, it is between heaven and earth but, heaven and earth are so close and tight that there is only room lying down. It’s there where one dreams. But I don’t dream
of poetry either dreams of impossibilities or of unrealized desires— dreams that are the deepest way of looking, hard dreams, in fact. One goes left, although it is less a direction. After the first time, it becomes addictive. The others
I’ve always been running in front of myself, stepping on my heels.
[drawings]
He said it’s good but it doesn’t matter to read one or another chapter; it doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s not a step forward. I can write 10 books and one or another can be read, regardless. That my thing is that I am “disinterested”— that I don’t seem to have basic ideas or ideas, everything appears loose and all my job is to make connections between things that evidently don’t have a connection; that I don’t have interest in collective problems; that
I have no [plot]; he also stopped reading several times, for one reason or another, and resumed from the beginning, because it didn’t matter read one chapter or the other. That I lack vulgarity. That I am not concerned with anything but life in the sense of existence. I don’t present any solution, nor do I start with ideas. He is disturbed facing the book, as he is facing me. Impression of insecurity. The book gives the impression of helplessness. One can see pedaling on the
vacuum. Bored lion. I write well, etc. but one thing is missing. I suggest that I speak without having anything to say— he is silent. Human void. Missing is anything from life.
+
The impression I got is that I reached an impasse, a dead end, the pure [word], that does not say anything anymore. The impression is that he thinks I’m done, unless
I change. That I’m arid, and meaningless. The impression is that he thinks it’s a useless beauty and a bit precious and empty. He doesn’t know “for what” I write — that’s the impression. It seems to him (I think) that I don’t have neither ideas, from where to start, nor subjects to go toward. In the first book I still seem “interested”, then everything is the same.
You know I’m a person who keeps putting off — what?
I stood before myself again, silly. I don’t know what to do. What am I? Really, I can’t even write how I write. Either I definitely stop writing or write in another way. I can’t keep doing arabesques. If I have nothing more to say, let me die.
Mistério em S. Cristóvão [Mystery in São Cristóvão] is already different, better.
1) Take out certain things
2) Do pages
3) Buy medicine
4) Give written instructions
5) Pack bags
Garina Simon Studenic
Post Office box 14
Resende – E; from Rio
(by recommendation of
Lucio Cardoso)
Natércia Freire
[stories and drawings]
2 cakes
Mrs. Flor (chicken pastels, pastels [ILLEGIBLE] meat croquette)
Eliane (éclair) x
cheese x
stuffed plums x 40
cashew nuts x
Pif-paf [card game] x
Drinks — 15 colas and 20 guaranás
Chocolate x
+
Purchase Eliane farm
Flowers Elisa Santa Branca (orchids)
Clean plates
[drawing]
Elisa
42.5332
Take Atebrine until Sunday at night
Call the doctor Monday
15 5
Sat – 9 – 1
Monday – 8 – 2
Thursday – 7 – 2
Started Thursday 7th
Tuesday, 18th of July
Rio
25th – Tuesday – 1 inj. x
29th – Saturday – 1 inj. x
2nd – Wednesday 1 inj
6th – Sunday – 1 –
10th – Thursday – 1 –
x
Tuesday – 15th of August
21st – Monday
” 25th – Friday
” 29th – Tuesday
” 2nd – Saturday
” 6th – Wednesday
[back cover]
[cover]
NOTES
“DE LUXE” SPIRAL N.o 14 – Registered trademark.
Patented process under N.o 29.839
Made in Brazil
It was in that sense
that G. never sought out his “equals”. He disdained his equals as a source of life.
and cut the chain of life with bad attention. And the other? The other would be the one to be alerted. Would receive the communication as if from nature, from a lake, from a forest! This other would be the being itself [alive].
feeling of “shelter”.
whatever was conscious would not be disturbed in creation, would not have an enemy — and could even use the pretenses that are necessary for it to be true. there would be no one to notice these pretenses
if they understood with consciousness and the head. It was a wrong contact, caused an aridity, a short circuit! The communication had to be between someone who was not disturbed by the other’s consciousness. And this other, without consciousness, would have in itself only a
the friendships had dried up because of an essential moment and a kind of revulsion that followed.
It didn’t seem “natural” — and in this case “natural” was the antonym of “perverted” — it didn’t seem natural for people to
important thing soon noticed him, the eyes blinked. Not about tot the thing itself supposedly, but in regard in a conscious way, with modesty [mutual] concerning the fact that they touch on important things. Many
But the communication did not [do any good]. Deep down, he didn’t want her. She had already experienced the communication a thousand times, and it was always something dry and sensible. With friends: [they talked], [talked], and if for a moment they said something
261067
He felt that no act had ever symbolized him. his intimate unity had never broken down or surrendered as a unit. What a man was, was short of his life. And that humanity was an abstraction.
Praça Baltazar da
Silveira, 44
—
her life not even she could receive it.
[illegible]
Special house for cold cuts
In front of Imperial Avenida Copacabana.
– I leave the milk cooking until it is thick — then I drink it — like a cream.
– That’s pure sensuality!. she laughed referring more to the tone with which he spoke[had spoken], than to phrase itself. soon after speaking, she regretted it slightly, for there were words which,
pronounced, they created a false atmosphere, as if harboring [duties] or attitudes. “Sensuality” was one of those ambiguous words. He noted the word with a quicker blink of the eyes but jumped over his own perspicacity and kept talking. He was however more cheerful.
It seemed strange and indifferent to me. He seemed like a person who knew very well how things ended. She could not escape the order of the day — each hour seemed to impose an activity on him and none left him free. The impression was of being held prisoner
the destination was so strong and real that, gazing at the morning, he seemed surprised that so much ineffability and grace could be chains.
[back cover]
Bern, Franenspital – September 21, 1948
My dears,
For now the letters are going out together because writing while lying down at times sucks. I received your two letters, Lea, and finally yours, Naninha. I’m sorry I made you spend money on a telegram. And your letters, Elisa, stood out for their silence in this regard. I prepared, in a moment of fever and anger, a letter which fortunately I did not send. I warned that I would write only very rarely, that I was tired of being the family puppy. Who for four years begged for news, to receive it only after 5 or 6 empty letters from you. It said – and it is completely true – that I had to ask you, Elisa, in more than ten letters to inform me of the results of the public job application exam, but that this seemed to be such a private matter that only after I begged you resolved to be extremely indiscreet and tell me you still didn’t know the result. It seems absolutely incredible! To you, Tania, I’ve written ridiculous letters. I know how important this is and I was anxious. I wrote something like 3 or 4 letters to get an answer. I want to tell you sincerely that this hurt me a lot, especially now after my giving birth, at the clinic. I don’t say that I could take revenge and not send news – I don’t say this because it would be ridiculous to imagine that the two of you would be bothered. There’s no point in protesting. If you were bothered you would understand that you cannot do the same to me.
Having passed this period of grievances, my dears, I want to say how much I would like you to see Pedrinho. He’s so funny. He’s not handsome (others think so, I don’t really) but he is so cute. He has dark eyes, half Chinese-like, a little potato nose – and he has a callus on his lips because he grasps the bottle too tightly… and he’s a big eater. He has no defects, is healthy, round, cute, very similar to Maury. I’m still in the hospital, but I’m doing much better. I have a bit of a fever but it is nothing and already going down. The pains are also subsiding. And they’re energetically raising my strengths – injections of vitamins into the veins, fortifiers, a thousand things. I’m really doing a lot better and hope I won’t be here for more than 8 or 10 more days. Maybe less. As for Maury, few times in my life have I seen someone like him. He’s so good to me, thinks of everything, is enormously patient with me and surrounds me with so much affection and care that I don’t even deserve. I hope that in my life I never hurt him at all. Not just because he has been the way that I say. In relation to everything, he’s one of the purest people I know. I couldn’t have a better father for my son.
I’m already sorry that I wrote harshly to you at the beginning of the letter. But you made me suffer a lot. Tania, in your letter you say I should be at home, taking due care of the baby. But you don’t know what a Swiss nurse is, then. A Swiss nurse is a registered nurse who is in charge of everything, everything- and who does not let the mother give too many opinions. In the printed contract it states already that she can call a doctor without consulting the parents. And things like that. Naturally, I’ll always have my eye on her, not just watching but also learning. But one can easily deliver a child to her care and go on a trip. (I won’t do this unless it is very necessary or after knowing my nurse well.) Pedrinho is easygoing, it seems. But with such an annoying mother, it’s better he be raised by a peaceful person, who will give him good habits and good nerves, don’t you think? Maury is very happy with the boy. As I told you, he was born with long, black hair, they were curly from the beginning. The little eyes are very alive, he has a strong cry, like a mallard calling other mallards in a river. He has very cute little hands. And a respectable pair of cheeks, a slightly pointed chin, the upper lip more prominent than the lower. The ears are glued to his head, for now. And every now and then he sighs… Anyway, I’d like to share with you the joys of Pedro’s faces. Did Marcinha receive my birthday card? How did she receive the news of Pedro? Write to me, please. If you feel like it. From now on, I will only write in response to letters. Don’t worry about my health, I assure you that now I couldn’t be better. A thousand hugs,
Clarice
I’m not nursing. I had very little milk, also, because I went many days without eating or drinking. And they still took the milk I had, preventing me from coming, I think in order not to tire me. But Pedrinho doesn’t need it.
Bern, September 11, 1948
My dear sisters,
You must have received Maury’s telegram – Pedro was born yesterday, the 10th, at 7:30 a.m. I’m writing in the middle of the night of the 11th, because I can’t sleep properly. We are very happy, Maury and I: the child is healthy, strong, weighs about three kilos, six hundred – for now he looks just like Maury… I suffered a lot. The doctor thought the baby was late and I was admitted to the hospital on the 9th in the morning. They started to provoke pains through injections. At 2 p.m. my water started to break and at 2:30 p.m. the pains settled in. I suffered from 2:30 p.m. on the 9th until 7 something on the 10th. But despite the strong and frequent pains the dilation, for reasons as yet unknown, didn’t happen. So, the doctor decided to do a caesarean. Don’t be frightened, everything went well. But at the time the doctor and nurses were not looking good, they were a little impressed. I said that if it was a matter of waiting and suffering, I would wait, as long as the child was not in danger. But the doctor said the child would be in danger if he was not born soon, because he couldn’t guess the reasons for the delay; that my pelvis was wide enough and that the child was in a good position. Maury and I signed a paper saying that we were in agreement and that we were responsible. This entire necessary scene cost us a lot of nerves. At 7 o’clock the doctor decided to operate, at 7:15 they put the gas mask on me, at 7:30 Gildinho was born – he was born so alive and happy … The doctor said that he had barely opened my belly and the boy jumped and cried: that his first cry came from within me still… I then had a bad spell with the anesthesia– vomiting and each retching movement was painful. Now I have a bit of a cough and each cough is painful… Maury is sleeping in the room, exhausted.
The 13th – My dears, I am very well: the doctor says that I’m fine. I haven’t had a fever since yesterday and today I’ve already had a rice broth that gave me a lot of strength. Frankly, I couldn’t be better. Pedrinho is so funny, I don’t think he’s very handsome, but he’s a ball. He has (long) black hair, dark eyes, a nose that is for the moment a little bit thick, huge cheeks and a bird’s beak mouth, and long fingers. Everything about him comes from Maury. A very cute child. I re-read the part written in the early hours of the 10th to the 11th, at 3 in the morning, and Maury read it – we were astounded how the letter is logical and correct, it doesn’t seem like I was under narcosis yet. Maury says the only explanation for such a clear letter at such a time is because it was addressed to you two– from the beginning my concern was you. Pedrinho sends a kiss to Uncle William! And tell Marcinha–dear that he belongs to her, that she will play with him as much as she wants and that the baby is hers. Maury is very happy. He had a hard time. When they said that the child had been born, he asked if it was a boy or girl. When I awoke from the anesthesia, he showed me the child and I said he had the face of a taxi driver and that he was ugly. Maury seems to have been saddened by this and it was hard to convince him that I had spoken while still drugged.
Leinha dear, I received your letter from the 8th, it was so good to hear anything from you, even before the birth. You received the telegram Maury sent, right? It was the first he sent because he knew how anxious I was for you all to know. It’s not yet known if I will have milk because with a C-section in any case it takes time to come. Maury has been so nice and affectionate, he’s been sleeping here every night, even though this is no longer necessary. But today he’s going home. My dear sisters, I miss you. I’ll teach Pedrinho to like you as much as I do. He’s also called Gildo, because it’s very glamorous. And he’s also called Kina-Redoxon, which is the name of a good flu medicine. A big kiss for Filomeninha. A big hug for William.
My love to you both.
Clarice
P.S.: Here are two snapshots of Pedrinho on the second day, for you both.
Bern, October 22, 1948
My little flower,
I received your letter from the 15th and at the same time one from Bluma that tells me about the dinner and says that you “were very beautiful.” So I miss you more. Honey, is your hair short? Send a picture of this look. My hair is really long, I’m planning to cut and curl it although I don’t know if it suits me. But I’m already tired of my hesitations, which have brought me a lot of irritation. I always have to remember that everything I achieved in life was at the expense of daring, however small. When we fall into this atmosphere of indecision, we feel lost. I decided to change the nurse (who is the biggest bore in the world, and jealous on top of that); the resolution came after days of mental torture and I finally decided to take a chance and ask the Nurses Alliance for another one. Because if I had hesitated a few more hours I would have missed a great one that serves at the home of my Argentinian friend (she is going to Sweden, sadly for me, because she was my friend here). The new nurse comes in November and is perfect and has a great temperament. I also want to tell you about my other hesitations, perhaps somehow you’ll benefit.
– Darling, I haven’t had a picture of you in a while! Why don’t you take some? Yesterday a visiting Brazilian took color photographs of Pedrinho with us – I am eager to know if they are the ones that can be copied or are printed on plates (in this case they cannot be sent). The photos I send here to you (I sent the same ones to Elisa, but I’m thinking that there is a different one, check it) are from less than a month ago, because the 10th was not a very bright day.
Darling, I ask you the great favor of not bothering to tell me that you do not like my book. I am not satisfied with it myself, although I felt the need to write it – I only like certain parts, which unfortunately does not excuse the whole book. Then pass the book on to Lucio. In the birth announcement I gave a word about him, so the warning was more or less given. – Send me pictures of Marcia. And tell me about the possibility of your coming to visit us here – did you receive my letter on the subject? A kiss for you, dear, and be happy, peaceful, and healthy.
Yours, Clarice
Bern, July 6, 1948
My little darling,
If you could know how exciting it was to receive the gifts for the baby! I can tell you that I received things from other people and that I rate as “cold” the feelings I had when I received them – in comparison with what I experienced when I received the baby bedding and the nightgown. They are delights of delicacy and good taste and intention. I imagined the child using all that – and more – you holding her. Thank you, my Naninha, for the delicacy of your choice. The embroidery is very fine and made for a baby… – If I could choose a time for you to win the lottery, darling, I would ask for it to happen after the child is born. Because coming to Europe to go in and out of the health care facility, and to only get to know Bern, is little. I want you to win the lottery and come here when I can go with you to Paris and show things to my dear sister. I adore you, darling, God bless you and give you joy. – I never got to see Mr. Koogan. He called me from Montreal saying he intended to come to Bern and then he would personally give me your package. And that if he couldn’t come, he would call me and send me the package at the same time by mail. Well, he didn’t call me, he just sent it to me. And as I expected him to call me again, I didn’t take note of the hotel he was in (my memory is kind of bad and I can only remember things by writing them down). Not knowing about his hotel, I cannot take advantage of the kindness with which he offered to take things to you. Who knows he may still call me.
A colleague of Maury who is going to Brazil is in Switzerland. I’ll see if he takes my book. And, according to his face when I ask this favor, I will ask him to take at least one chocolate for dear Filomeninha. – I don’t know if you know that Agir does not want or cannot publish my book – the fact is that the answer was negative. Therefore I am without a publisher. I’m in the mood to send the book to Brazil with this young man. Give it Lucio to read. What I want is for this book to be out of here. Improving it is impossible for me. And besides, I urgently need to get rid of it. When you give the book to Lucio, don’t talk about getting a publisher. I myself will perhaps write a letter. I don’t even have the courage to ask you to read it, darling. It is such a pain in the ass, honestly. And you may suffer from telling me that you don’t like it and that you’re sorry to see me lost, literarily speaking… Anyway, do whatever you want, whatever costs you less. I hope one day to be able to get out of this vicious cycle into which my “soul” has fallen. – Agir has already asked me twice for a copy of the contract for The Chandelier. Do you have it? Do you want to send it to them? – Mozart, Eliane, and the child took a vacation and stopped by. Eliane and the girl soon went to the mountain and Mozart stayed with us for two weeks, he leaves tomorrow.
-I am in good health, I’m just suffering from a bad stomach burn… I’m 70 kilos … But I don’t look fat. I think that all this weight comes partly from me, partly from the child, and partly from the “layette” that a child brings with it: water, placentas, etc. The doctor said I am very well, the child is developing very well and that everything is completely normal. Here’s a little picture that an Englishman took of us a few days ago. In it I am a little favored… But at least you see that I’m fine. The portrait was taken on a trip to Interlaken. – I don’t even mind that you didn’t send the cake … Because I would even find it a sacrilege to eat it. I would certainly wake up at night to eat the crumbs. My little darling, my little country flower, God bless you. Take care of yourself, my dear sister, never let fatigue take over, never let yourself be carried away by any depression. Be cheerful, be happy. Do mental and moral hygiene, do not let yourself be overwhelmed by annoyances from maids or work. Alright, darling? Don’t worry about me either: I’m fine, everything will proceed perfectly, with total comfort, a good doctor, a good clinic. So there is really no need to worry. I am not even afraid of childbirth or pain. Rest assured.
Give me a hug, darling, be very happy. Give William a hug, and Marcia a kiss. Tell her that the baby sends a kiss.
Yours always, Clarice
Bern, February 21, 1948
Tania, my dear little girl, my little doll,
I received your letter with the portraits of Márci – a little late because I was in Saint-Moritz. When I opened it and saw Marcinha, my heart was warmed with affection. Never have I seen a more beautiful child! Since I hadn’t seen the portraits in a long time, in the end I wondered if it were not due to love that I had thought she was the most beautiful and dearest girl in the world. But when I saw the portraits again, I had no doubt. I’ve been showing the portraits to everyone and everyone laughs with pleasure to see such a marvelous creature. And so smart. Because for a four-month-old the expression on her face is too clever. And at nine months she’s completely up on her feet and cracking up laughing. I’ve looked at the portraits I don’t know how many times. I’ll see if I can have a copy or two made, at least of the biggest one.
Darling, you can’t imagine how terrified I am that the child to be born will have the face of … Ms. Zuza. I avoid looking at her, afraid. I know it’s an ugly sentiment: but if the child is born looking like M[aury]’s family, I have the impression that my heartbreak is going to be enormous. I’m so impressed by this possibility that now it’ll probably actually happen. I can’t get enough of looking at Márcia’s adorable face. But I suppose it’s no use: I know well that there are no influences of this kind. But I really like to look. Sometimes I think about me arriving in Brazil with a baby with the face of Ms. Z., showing the child to you with such shame! I imagine you are laughing now and so am I… Remember the baby with the face of a chauffeur? That’s what I mean.
I’ve been going to the doctor once a month. He thought I was very well. He didn’t give me any diet. The nausea, which wasn’t much, has completely disappeared. Ah, my dear little girl, my little soul, there are moments when the homesickness hurts physically. How I wish to see you, kiss your dear little hands. You didn’t answer me about a girl’s name. It’s more difficult to choose a name for a girl. If my impression is that a boy is coming, I think I would prefer a girl.
Tania, please, please, my little girl, take good care of yourself, don’t get tired. If you only knew how much strength I send you in my thoughts. I imagine the agitated life that yours has been. But is it not possible to have a method? Is it not possible to find a way for things to go better? My dear, you never talk about yourself, you never really say anything about yourself. Talk to me, sweetheart, write to me about yourself, tell me what you think, what you do. I love you so much.
Yesterday Mariazinha asked me what I would do if I won a thousand contos. She said I started to look like a businesswoman, with a bit of a harsh face while distributing money… She let me give Marcia a house, another one for you, another one for Elisa, and you both come here, and a thousand other things. Only afterward did she laugh and say that the money certainly wouldn’t be enough. Speaking of houses: regarding what you were thinking of doing what point are you at? You didn’t specify. Write back. If you don’t respond to my questions, I’ll have to resume the system of enumerating, which is actually great.
As for the apartment for us, I don’t know how it will be. In Brazil, Maury earns five contos. He has a hundred contos in Brazil and nothing more. A big apartment can’t be bought because the hundred contos would serve, I reckon, only as a down payment. And in Brazil we’d be paying the rest monthly. Now, with five contos it’s not possible to spend a large amount monthly. I think the best would be any small apartment, that if you paid right away all or almost in full – as long as we didn’t have to rent an expensive one, with rental agency fees etc. – and later, if we wanted, or better, if we had the money, we could resell and buy a better one.
In any case I would not like it to be in Copacabana, because it’s hell to live there, there’s not a moment of peace, the street keeps calling, the people, the bars, too – it’s a beach life, great for a foreigner, millionaire or bum. Tell me about Elisa’s book, I don’t know anything, only that Pongetti will publish it. And the Senate position application, when is it? Is she in good health? She’s not nervous? She’s always getting into difficult and laborious things, but deep down she’s right. I just hope she enters the Senate, because of the salary and longer vacations. How much would she earn?
Tania, my sister, God bless you, and give you happiness and joy, wellness and tranquility, good health, good health, good health – and much happiness for Marcinha darling. Take care of yourself, rest, and be beautiful, take care of your grace, your beauty, and your elegance. Give William a big hug. Is he still handsome? And a big hug of love and longing for you.
Yours, Clarice
February 28– I thought I had sent you the letter, and it wasn’t true. Sorry for the delay. Ms. Zuza left today for Genoa with Maury. She will board tomorrow, it seems. She’s bringing you both some souvenirs. Don’t mind the irritated letters I wrote from Saint-Moritz. Of course, she is annoying, but I am much more. We had portraits taken, but, darling, I always come out with such a face that it’s not even worth sending. I’ve tried taking a thousand portraits to send you, and it’s not possible. I always come out horribly – and it’s not due to vanity that I don’t send them. It’s to not give the impression that I’m a ghost. When I take a portrait with Maury, I have to separate us with scissors, because at least in the portrait I look like his mother.
Bern, October 22, 1947
My dear,
The typewriter is being repaired, I have to write carefully by hand, which I hate. Darling, little flower, are you well then? Healthy? Are you undergoing any treatment?
And Elisa, with the public job application? – I was glad to know that Marcinha wants to study until she manages the minuet… And speaking of music, we have a record player! Maury’s uncle, when he came by, offered us as a wedding present a pretty clock. But we thought we’d prefer a record player – and bought it. It may not be pretty, but it’s good.
There have been luncheons, etc. Today there will be a kind of reception at the Embassy, where Felícia Blumental will play Brazilian composers. Maury is well. He’s put on a lot of weight lately, he works a lot, he is in general content. He really enjoyed the trip to Spain, and didn’t even get tired of driving so much. He is good and doing well. – Rosa’s still an angel. Today she said she wouldn’t want to be “in the shoes” of a certain neighbor of ours who is very shameless. I asked if she’d like to be in the shoes of anyone else. To my embarrassment she said she’d like to be in mine. I didn’t even ask why because I was unexpectedly embarrassed.
Even after seeing me from morning to night, and witnessing my bad moods and sorrows, she would nonetheless accept being me… I think, then, that I have nothing left but to want to be myself – which is already getting quite boring, by the way…
The book is, so to speak, finished. God knows it’s worthless, darling. I believe that in about two months I can call it quits. As it happens, I’ll end it because I’m sick of it. It was the work that made me suffer the most. I’ve been tinkering with it for three years, abandoning it and returning to it. And it’s only been about three months since I finally found out what I was trying to say in it… This book has been copied, destroyed, resurrected, I don’t know, a thousand times. One of these days, picking up one of the more recent copies (quite different from the current one) – I felt physically nauseous as I remembered how I suffered because of every part of it and how I saw that it was useless. I had to stop thinking about it for days – because this curious disgust from the pain persisted in me. Anyway, dear, the book is horrible. I haven’t evolved at all, I haven’t attained anything. I still have my head in the clouds, I remain vague and dreamy, dislocating in some way the meaning of life. May God forgive me. Three years – to arrive at this. I tinkered and retinkered with the book so much that I no longer understand its meaning. So much impotence makes me want to scream.
Throughout this 3-year period, my mal-adaptation has played a major role. It seems, darling, that I am getting used to it now; I have been happier and more resigned, and more able to control myself and smother useless dreams. But I can say that from this period a real repugnance of suffering has stayed with me, as one has repugnance of a wound that won’t heal. I don’t know what to do with the book, Tania. And I’m asking you for advice. It’s no use telling me I should set it aside and revise it later: it is rotten in my hands, and more and more I will distance myself from it. Although I’m so attached to it that I’m incapable of starting anything else. Of course, you’ll ask what Maury says. Once Maury started to read it and did not like it (he, at first reading, didn’t like the 1st or the 2nd book, for which he was right). Not only did he not like this one, he became so disinterested that he only read about 15 pages, and forgot to read the rest. He didn’t even ask me for more. I understand very well. Of course, the week that followed that minor incident was very bad for me; I put the book away “forever.” But, with a constancy that even seems harmful, I went back to work on it again; I seem to be incorrigible. Maury was right: the book is no good. But what am I supposed to do? I don’t know. Send it, after it is definitively copied, for you and Lucio to read? Tell me, please, darling. (If I don’t ask Elisa to also read it, it’s because she has so many scruples in a case like this, that it’s not worth causing any problems for her.) Write to me, darling, tell me what you think.
Meanwhile, that young man, who is in Geneva, is completely neurasthenic. It seems he really wakes up at night to cry… Don’t tell anyone, of course. It seems that he will indeed go to a health facility. In part, it must be because he was ill and this depressed him. But for the most part, I think that it comes from the uprootedness of this life abroad. Not everyone is strong enough to bear not having an environment of their own, or friends. More and more, I admire Dad and others who, like him, knew how to have a “new life;” it takes a lot of courage to have a new life. In this career if you are completely out of touch with reality, you don’t enter into any circle properly – and diplomatic circles are composed of shadows and shadows. It is indeed considered in bad taste to have personal tastes or talk about yourself or even talk about others. No one exactly gets along with a diplomat; with a diplomat, one dines. All of this – plus the comfort, the facilities, and the instability – makes them consider themselves apart from and above others. So one of them said, speaking of a young woman: “she did not marry well: she married just a doctor…” And even he once complained to Maury’s uncle that he worked too much and was burning out. Maury’s uncle, who is a man embroiled in life, asked how many hours per day he worked. Answer: about 4 per day, and often less… The man burst out laughing! Because he himself works more than 8 hours a day, and has direct responsibility, has signatures, ship dispatches, and also money to lose. And he doesn’t have time to have M.’s horrible moral depression.
I think I’ve said too much, dear. I hope you had the patience to read to the end…
Ask Marcinha to write me a letter. She “owes me” a response… about Elisa’s public job exam. How’s William? Send news of him, alright? About health, work.
My dear sister, God bless you and give you much health and joy.
Clarice
