After Água Viva and handwriting every favourite quote from it, I felt like I had an overdose of Lispector. I couldn't get into this one as quickly as I did with the previous book, because I was still reeling from it. And much like her other books, I never really looked up the synopsis so I didn't know what The Passion was about. 

This novel started out like the narrator's soliloquy. It was slow and at times, felt like it wasn't going anywhere. But I stayed on and hoped for the best. At first I wasn't quite sold on it and thought maybe I should hit pause but it was constantly calling me so eventually I picked it up again. 

Then the novel really started. You get to know the characters. G.H., her life, her penthouse, her maid. And the picture gets clearer as the story goes on. I actually think this book was like a retelling of The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka but from a different point of view; of Gregor's sister or one of his parents. It was quickly piquing my interest.

Once again Lispector had a unique way of writing. With every last line of a chapter, said line will be repeated into the next chapter to start over. It was almost like crocheting. Making another chain stitch to repeat a double crochet, yarn over, front loop.. She was literally stitching together a story and I don't think I've ever encountered that while reading. So fascinating. 

It was a lot to take in. It was a sea of thoughts. It was philosophical. It was theological. It was a horror story. It was mind and gut churning. It was very Lispectorian. 

I was not prepared at all for the final reveal. I had theories but also knew deep down that it wouldn't go that way. No, it went completely the other way. I didn't expect it at all. I exclaimed loudly, which surprised my sister who was next to me. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Like I get it, but I also didn't. I need to sit with it for now.