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Amour: et autres nouvelles
Poético e simbólico, o conto relata uma história de abnegação feminina, de alienação e de uma ânsia pela vida, questionando o que significa agir de verdade.
- GenresShort Stories
Audio CD
Published May 4, 2015
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About the author
Clarice Lispector
247 books8,916 followersClarice Lispector was a Brazilian writer. Acclaimed internationally for her innovative novels and short stories, she was also a journalist. Born to a Jewish family in Podolia in Western Ukraine, she was brought to Brazil as an infant, amidst the disasters engulfing her native land following the First World War.
She grew up in northeastern Brazil, where her mother died when she was nine. The family moved to Rio de Janeiro when she was in her teens. While in law school in Rio she began publishing her first journalistic work and short stories, catapulting to fame at age 23 with the publication of her first novel, 'Near to the Wild Heart' (Perto do Coração Selvagem), written as an interior monologue in a style and language that was considered revolutionary in Brazil.
She left Brazil in 1944, following her marriage to a Brazilian diplomat, and spent the next decade and a half in Europe and the United States. Upon return to Rio de Janeiro in 1959, she began producing her most famous works, including the stories of Family Ties (Laços de Família), the great mystic novel The Passion According to G.H. (A Paixão Segundo G.H.), and the novel many consider to be her masterpiece, Água Viva. Injured in an accident in 1966, she spent the last decade of her life in frequent pain, steadily writing and publishing novels and stories until her premature death in 1977.
She has been the subject of numerous books and references to her, and her works are common in Brazilian literature and music. Several of her works have been turned into films, one being 'Hour of the Star' and she was the subject of a recent biography, Why This World, by Benjamin Moser.
She grew up in northeastern Brazil, where her mother died when she was nine. The family moved to Rio de Janeiro when she was in her teens. While in law school in Rio she began publishing her first journalistic work and short stories, catapulting to fame at age 23 with the publication of her first novel, 'Near to the Wild Heart' (Perto do Coração Selvagem), written as an interior monologue in a style and language that was considered revolutionary in Brazil.
She left Brazil in 1944, following her marriage to a Brazilian diplomat, and spent the next decade and a half in Europe and the United States. Upon return to Rio de Janeiro in 1959, she began producing her most famous works, including the stories of Family Ties (Laços de Família), the great mystic novel The Passion According to G.H. (A Paixão Segundo G.H.), and the novel many consider to be her masterpiece, Água Viva. Injured in an accident in 1966, she spent the last decade of her life in frequent pain, steadily writing and publishing novels and stories until her premature death in 1977.
She has been the subject of numerous books and references to her, and her works are common in Brazilian literature and music. Several of her works have been turned into films, one being 'Hour of the Star' and she was the subject of a recent biography, Why This World, by Benjamin Moser.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
March 27, 2022
“A certain hour of the afternoon was more dangerous.”
This is a quote heavy review, but looking at how language is used to order our thoughts is a big part of what Clarice Lispector is trying to accomplish in her short story “Love.” The nearly opening line about a certain hour of the afternoon being more dangerous challenges the reader to imagine what could be dangerous in the fulfilled life of a wife and mother returning home on the tram. This is a question for our protagonist, Ana, as well.
Ana reflects on where the passions of her life had gone, “All her vaguely artistic desire had long since been directed toward making the days fulfilled and beautiful; over time, her taste for the decorative had developed and supplanted her inner disorder.” Interestingly, there is no physical danger; it is the thoughts themselves that are dangerous. Otherwise, Ana could continue to believe she’d had the freedom to make choices. And perhaps still had that freedom.
The way life is described (or self-described) in Lispector’s striking language is yet another danger. Ana separates her former life from her current one. “Her former youth seemed as strange to her as one of life’s illnesses. She had gradually emerged from it to discover that one could also live without happiness: abolishing it, she had found a legion of people, previously invisible, who lived the way a person works — with persistence, continuity, joy. What had happened to Ana before she had a home was forever out of reach: a restless exaltation so often mistaken for unbearable happiness. In exchange she had created something at last comprehensible, an adult life. That was what she had wanted and chosen.”
Unanticipated events on the tram upset her order. “On the Rua Voluntários da Pátria a revolution seemed about to break out, the sewer grates were dry, the air dusty. A blind man chewing gum had plunged the world into dark voraciousness. She had pacified life so well, taken such care for it not to explode. She had kept it all in serene comprehension, separated each person from the rest, clothes were clearly made to be worn and you could choose the evening movie from the newspaper — everything wrought in such a way that one day followed another. And a blind man chewing gum was shattering it all to pieces. And through this compassion there appeared to Ana a life full of sweet nausea, rising to her mouth.”
Rattled she gets off at the wrong stop and must walk through the Botanical Gardens to get home, “The cruelty of the world was tranquil. The murder was deep. And death was not what we thought. While imaginary — it was a world to sink one’s teeth into, a world of voluminous dahlias and tulips. The trunks were crisscrossed by leafy parasites, their embrace was soft, sticky. Like the revulsion that precedes a surrender — it was fascinating, the woman was nauseated, and it was fascinating… The Garden was so pretty that she was afraid of Hell.”
Which vision of life holds the terror, the orderly life awaiting her at home or the one in the garden that opens up and tantalizes her imagination? This was a short but powerful read on the importance of language in describing ourselves as well as what happens to our rationalized choices once something possibly quite inconsequential upsets the order. 4.5 stars.
This is a quote heavy review, but looking at how language is used to order our thoughts is a big part of what Clarice Lispector is trying to accomplish in her short story “Love.” The nearly opening line about a certain hour of the afternoon being more dangerous challenges the reader to imagine what could be dangerous in the fulfilled life of a wife and mother returning home on the tram. This is a question for our protagonist, Ana, as well.
Ana reflects on where the passions of her life had gone, “All her vaguely artistic desire had long since been directed toward making the days fulfilled and beautiful; over time, her taste for the decorative had developed and supplanted her inner disorder.” Interestingly, there is no physical danger; it is the thoughts themselves that are dangerous. Otherwise, Ana could continue to believe she’d had the freedom to make choices. And perhaps still had that freedom.
The way life is described (or self-described) in Lispector’s striking language is yet another danger. Ana separates her former life from her current one. “Her former youth seemed as strange to her as one of life’s illnesses. She had gradually emerged from it to discover that one could also live without happiness: abolishing it, she had found a legion of people, previously invisible, who lived the way a person works — with persistence, continuity, joy. What had happened to Ana before she had a home was forever out of reach: a restless exaltation so often mistaken for unbearable happiness. In exchange she had created something at last comprehensible, an adult life. That was what she had wanted and chosen.”
Unanticipated events on the tram upset her order. “On the Rua Voluntários da Pátria a revolution seemed about to break out, the sewer grates were dry, the air dusty. A blind man chewing gum had plunged the world into dark voraciousness. She had pacified life so well, taken such care for it not to explode. She had kept it all in serene comprehension, separated each person from the rest, clothes were clearly made to be worn and you could choose the evening movie from the newspaper — everything wrought in such a way that one day followed another. And a blind man chewing gum was shattering it all to pieces. And through this compassion there appeared to Ana a life full of sweet nausea, rising to her mouth.”
Rattled she gets off at the wrong stop and must walk through the Botanical Gardens to get home, “The cruelty of the world was tranquil. The murder was deep. And death was not what we thought. While imaginary — it was a world to sink one’s teeth into, a world of voluminous dahlias and tulips. The trunks were crisscrossed by leafy parasites, their embrace was soft, sticky. Like the revulsion that precedes a surrender — it was fascinating, the woman was nauseated, and it was fascinating… The Garden was so pretty that she was afraid of Hell.”
Which vision of life holds the terror, the orderly life awaiting her at home or the one in the garden that opens up and tantalizes her imagination? This was a short but powerful read on the importance of language in describing ourselves as well as what happens to our rationalized choices once something possibly quite inconsequential upsets the order. 4.5 stars.
March 26, 2021
Uma mulher atormentada procura o seu lugar no mundo.
Ana tem uma postura de recusa e abnegação perante a vida, até que um acontecimento simbólico fá-la mudar e adotar um comportamento estranho com os acontecimentos daquele dia, que surgem como fumo de um sonho desfocado.
É um conto muito bom!
Ana tem uma postura de recusa e abnegação perante a vida, até que um acontecimento simbólico fá-la mudar e adotar um comportamento estranho com os acontecimentos daquele dia, que surgem como fumo de um sonho desfocado.
É um conto muito bom!
August 1, 2018
Poético e simbólico, o conto relata uma história de abnegação feminina, de alienação e de uma ânsia pela vida, questionando o que significa agir de verdade. Seria possuir sonhos, buscar melhorar alfoio na sociedade, se entregar para o mundo, correr atrás da própria felicidade? A culpa, a vontade, a aceitação e a condescendência competem por um lugar no coração de Ana quando ela reflete sobre seu lugar no mundo, enquanto mulher.
March 23, 2026
tipping my hat, one deranged woman to another
February 16, 2022
“… descobrir que também sem a felicidade se vivia”
Bem forte.
Bem forte.
September 17, 2024
I liked this short story. Captures how waves of empathy or joy can sometimes trigger anxiety or discouragement. Been there!
The writing was a little jerky, maybe because of translation?
The writing was a little jerky, maybe because of translation?
March 10, 2024
I liked how the garden symbolised her mind and her strong sense of justice after meeting the blind man.
November 22, 2024
“Nas árvores as frutas eram pretas, doces como mel. Havia no chão caroços secos cheios de circunvoluções, como pequenos cérebros apodrecidos. O banco estava manchado de sucos roxos. Com suavidade intensa rumorejavam as águas. No tronco da árvore pregavam-se as luxuosas patas de uma aranha. A crueza do mundo era tranquila. O assassinato era profundo. E a morte não era o que pensávamos.
Ao mesmo tempo que imaginário – era um mundo de se comer com os dentes, um mundo de volumosas dálias e tulipas. Os troncos eram percorridos por parasitas folhudos, o abraço era macio, colado. Como a repulsa que precedesse uma entrega – era fascinante, a mulher tinha nojo, e era fascinante.
As árvores estavam carregadas, o mundo era tão rico que apodrecia. Quando Ana pensou que havia crianças e homens grandes com fome, a náusea subiu-lhe à garganta, como se ela estivesse grávida e abandonada. A moral do Jardim era outra. Agora que o cego a guiara até ele, estremecia nos primeiros passos de um mundo faiscante, sombrio, onde vitórias-régias boiavam monstruosas. As pequenas flores espalhadas na relva não lhe pareciam amarelas ou rosadas, mas cor de mau ouro e escarlates. A decomposição era profunda, perfumada… Mas todas as pesadas coisas, ela via com a cabeça rodeada por um enxame de insetos, enviados pela vida mais fina do mundo. A brisa se insinuava entre as flores. Ana mais adivinhava que sentia o seu cheiro adocicado... O Jardim era tão bonito que ela teve medo do Inferno.”
“Porque a vida era periclitante. Ela amava o mundo, amava o que fora criado – amava com nojo.”
“Riam-se de tudo, com o coração bom e humano. As crianças cresciam admiravelmente em torno deles. E como a uma borboleta, Ana prendeu o instante entre os dedos antes que ele nunca mais fosse seu.”
Ao mesmo tempo que imaginário – era um mundo de se comer com os dentes, um mundo de volumosas dálias e tulipas. Os troncos eram percorridos por parasitas folhudos, o abraço era macio, colado. Como a repulsa que precedesse uma entrega – era fascinante, a mulher tinha nojo, e era fascinante.
As árvores estavam carregadas, o mundo era tão rico que apodrecia. Quando Ana pensou que havia crianças e homens grandes com fome, a náusea subiu-lhe à garganta, como se ela estivesse grávida e abandonada. A moral do Jardim era outra. Agora que o cego a guiara até ele, estremecia nos primeiros passos de um mundo faiscante, sombrio, onde vitórias-régias boiavam monstruosas. As pequenas flores espalhadas na relva não lhe pareciam amarelas ou rosadas, mas cor de mau ouro e escarlates. A decomposição era profunda, perfumada… Mas todas as pesadas coisas, ela via com a cabeça rodeada por um enxame de insetos, enviados pela vida mais fina do mundo. A brisa se insinuava entre as flores. Ana mais adivinhava que sentia o seu cheiro adocicado... O Jardim era tão bonito que ela teve medo do Inferno.”
“Porque a vida era periclitante. Ela amava o mundo, amava o que fora criado – amava com nojo.”
“Riam-se de tudo, com o coração bom e humano. As crianças cresciam admiravelmente em torno deles. E como a uma borboleta, Ana prendeu o instante entre os dedos antes que ele nunca mais fosse seu.”
August 9, 2025
Na imagem da Ana sozinha em casa depois de limpar e fazer tudo pela manhã vi a imagem da minha vó, que a vida toda foi essa dona de casa, que esperava dar 18h para todos voltarem pra casa e seus afazeres começarem
É extremamente real isso da realidade da vida, a crueldade do mundo, nos impactar em momentos triviais da vida, como um homem cego mascando chicles no ponto. Ana sente tudo em pouco tempo e criamos essa empatia por ela em tão poucas páginas, mostrando a genialidade de Clarice, as mudanças de estilo que são feitas de forma mto orgânica
Amor, tanto de viver quanto pelos outros
É extremamente real isso da realidade da vida, a crueldade do mundo, nos impactar em momentos triviais da vida, como um homem cego mascando chicles no ponto. Ana sente tudo em pouco tempo e criamos essa empatia por ela em tão poucas páginas, mostrando a genialidade de Clarice, as mudanças de estilo que são feitas de forma mto orgânica
Amor, tanto de viver quanto pelos outros
September 28, 2025
Read aloud. Reflect. Read again.
This little masterpiece is a poem to the sense of being alive, the liminal experience of living things almost turning into meanings and back again
Every sentence is magical. What does it all mean?
To me the moment when her husband leads her to bed is erotic because she surrenders without a word to life in that moment and the magical phantasmagoria of the story passes away in an instant.
This little masterpiece is a poem to the sense of being alive, the liminal experience of living things almost turning into meanings and back again
Every sentence is magical. What does it all mean?
To me the moment when her husband leads her to bed is erotic because she surrenders without a word to life in that moment and the magical phantasmagoria of the story passes away in an instant.
August 1, 2025
cuentito brasileño en español que te hace pensar… (me ha pasado)
March 4, 2026
Very much reminded me of a day I spent at a park in Madrid alone … “The Garden was so pretty she was afraid of Hell.”
I love following the thoughts of any sort of panicked woman. Made me think about my mom but myself too. Dreams that never come true and the sometimes debilitating desire to change things when you realize the cage door has always been open. The ending was gorgeous. The cycle continues …
“And, if she had passed through love and its hell, she was now combing her hair before the mirror, for an instant with no world at all in her heart. Before going to bed, as if putting out a candle, she blew out the little flame of the day.”
Ms Lispector u have my stan card. Awesome read before work I was 10 mins late tho
I love following the thoughts of any sort of panicked woman. Made me think about my mom but myself too. Dreams that never come true and the sometimes debilitating desire to change things when you realize the cage door has always been open. The ending was gorgeous. The cycle continues …
“And, if she had passed through love and its hell, she was now combing her hair before the mirror, for an instant with no world at all in her heart. Before going to bed, as if putting out a candle, she blew out the little flame of the day.”
Ms Lispector u have my stan card. Awesome read before work I was 10 mins late tho
January 5, 2024
I would highly recommend this read to first approach Lispector. I would say it takes the same premise as “The Passion according to GH”: a mundane, unexpected event changes something deeply for the main character. However, Lispector makes this story about love and compassion, in the eyes of a woman who is devoted to her family and home. As always, her writing is mesmerizing, and this is a much shorter and easier read than The Passion…, which I will never stop recommending. Lispector really has a way with words, letting her readers dive into the very complex inner worlds of their characters, while also giving a clear picture of what is, very slowly, happening in the outer world.
June 18, 2021
crisis existencial
September 30, 2023
“In a gesture that wasn’t his, but that seemed natural, he held his wife’s hand, taking her along without looking back, removing her from the danger of living.”
July 3, 2025
Beautiful imageries, vivid and gorgeous. Definitely a piece of prose that sticks with you for a while, leaving it up for how someone, in whatever period of their life, to interpret it.
For me, it's a story of growing up, becoming content in a world, an adult that feels in control. An epiphany causes them to experience the world more vividly, remember the wild, rushing feelings of youth.
Kinda how I feel. Sometimes, you get into the drone of things, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, failing to appreciate the vividness of the world around you, until even the smallest, most mundane moment wakes you up. Most of us continue to just live our life though, despite that fleeting moment where everything feels so different. Our responses define us, after all.
Wow. Read it twice. Makes you think.
For me, it's a story of growing up, becoming content in a world, an adult that feels in control. An epiphany causes them to experience the world more vividly, remember the wild, rushing feelings of youth.
Kinda how I feel. Sometimes, you get into the drone of things, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, failing to appreciate the vividness of the world around you, until even the smallest, most mundane moment wakes you up. Most of us continue to just live our life though, despite that fleeting moment where everything feels so different. Our responses define us, after all.
Wow. Read it twice. Makes you think.
January 16, 2026
To me, Clarise is one of those artists whose greatness is lost in translation. Love (or ‘Amor’) suffers from an insistence on hollow, flowery language to get its point across. However poetic, the story falls flat when the characters do not act like we do. I could be wrong, maybe I’m heartless, but seeing a blind man chewing gum (why is it important that he’s chewing gum?) and spilling my eggs might ruin my day or make me think about other people, it wouldn’t send me into a mental breakdown akin to a biblical rapture. Look, I understand this is literature we’re talking about, and surrealist, postmodern steam of consciousness literature at that, but there is something to be said about writing being relatable and measured that allows it to feel authentic. I might have to try a couple of her other works, but this one was just not for me.
February 9, 2024
Um conto com algum interesse, que retrata uma certa realidade fugidia, um certo estereótipo de mulher doméstica perdido no tempo. Como um documento histórico para preservação de uma memória que vale a pena preservar. Todavia, a mulher de hoje é diferente, apesar de todos os desafios de sempre. Os amores são diferentes, apesar de todas as semelhanças. A escrita de Lispector não me fascina. É um misto de ingenuidade e aparente despretensiosismo que resulta numa prosa ligeira tipo roteiro de novela.
October 16, 2024
Me aventurando em Clarice
3 estrelas? Não sei… ainda não me decidi ao certo. Sei apenas que decidi me aventurar em Clarice e decretei que esse conto seria o que me abriria as portas para esse novo mundo. Contudo, acho que ainda estou travada… Li o conto e tive pensamentos, mas não confiei e nem julguei eles como dignos então eu ignorei tudo e fui ver um resenha analítica no YouTube (daquelas que só quem fez vestibular sabe) e peguei coisas que não imaginei que pegaria. Pretendo reler em breve para perder o medo de Clarice.
3 estrelas? Não sei… ainda não me decidi ao certo. Sei apenas que decidi me aventurar em Clarice e decretei que esse conto seria o que me abriria as portas para esse novo mundo. Contudo, acho que ainda estou travada… Li o conto e tive pensamentos, mas não confiei e nem julguei eles como dignos então eu ignorei tudo e fui ver um resenha analítica no YouTube (daquelas que só quem fez vestibular sabe) e peguei coisas que não imaginei que pegaria. Pretendo reler em breve para perder o medo de Clarice.
February 14, 2025
"The cruelty of the world was tranquil. The murder was deep. And death was not what we thought.
While imaginary — it was a world to sink one’s teeth into, a world of voluminous dahlias and tulips. The trunks were crisscrossed by leafy parasites, their embrace was soft, sticky. Like the revulsion that precedes a surrender — it was fascinating, the woman was nauseated, and it was fascinating."
While imaginary — it was a world to sink one’s teeth into, a world of voluminous dahlias and tulips. The trunks were crisscrossed by leafy parasites, their embrace was soft, sticky. Like the revulsion that precedes a surrender — it was fascinating, the woman was nauseated, and it was fascinating."
May 11, 2025
Leitura obrigatória do 1 EQ da UERJ 2026. Vou precisar reler, mas eu entendi que fala sobre o papel da mulher além do maternar e cuidar de casa. Ela sempre queria fugir e sentia grande aflição quando não tinha o que fazer para servir a casa e aos filhos/marido
April 26, 2026
4.5 rounded down
Took me two reads to lock in what I was reading, but an effective short story never fails to amaze me. The amount of self-reflection packed into 11 pages of text is incredible. Thank you Ben Reed!!
Took me two reads to lock in what I was reading, but an effective short story never fails to amaze me. The amount of self-reflection packed into 11 pages of text is incredible. Thank you Ben Reed!!
June 14, 2021
4.1
The pulchritude of Clarice Lispector!
The pulchritude of Clarice Lispector!
November 30, 2021
"As for herself, she obscurely participated in the gentle black roots of the world. And nourished life anonymously."
September 9, 2023
Had many thoughts and reactions to such a short piece
April 30, 2024
meu deus. eu assim daqui há uns anos quando casar e sentir que fracassei em tudo com certeza é a minha cara
July 25, 2024
Yo soy literalmente este cuento
October 24, 2024
me deu todo tipo de crise existencial
December 17, 2024
relato sobre a inestabilidade da abnegación, sobre como a ilusión e o erotismo se poden converter en detontantes fatais para quen xa aceptou a renuncia
January 22, 2025
The most beautiful thing I have read in years.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews