The maintenance of the technique is, in itself, impressive. I told her that if she'd send me a copy of her novel I'd review it. In the sterile dormitories and on the quiet winter greens of an American university, a young woman named M- deals with the repercussions of a strange encounter with an angel, one that has left a large bruise on her forehead. Whatever the case, the narrator seems more 'sane'. Winner of Ronald Sukenick Prize for Innovative Fiction The Bruise is a prize-winning novel of imperative voice and raw sensation. What a joy to encounter a novel that is composed of words, and could only exist as words. At times I wanted to give up, but i didn't and I'm glad I didn't.
I sat down and ordered a western omelet, thankful that I could get the words out. The writing style took forever to get used to, and the repetition it used was tedious, despite the repetitious rambling being a main character attribute-- but I suppose the style at least made the author's novella into a short book, and that can be its purpose? For that is the essential fact: Since Christianity, the Western world has never ceased saying: 'To know who you are, know what your sexuality is. Zurawski gives the reader every opportunity to psychoanalyze her stand-in as having a mental breakdown. And although I never actually forgot about them, they occupied a corner of my mind that I did not often visit. I was surprised she'd never heard of him.
Perhaps Zurawski wrote this at a different time then she'd written the preceding, perhaps the change is a writerly strategy. Maybe what made that part seem real to me was how chaotic it was, and how not at all like a search, but more just the narrator being confused about everything, and that rang true with me. But much of it is still up for debate with me. Winner of Ronald Sukenick Prize for Innovative Fiction The Bruise is a prize-winning novel of imperative voice and raw sensation. The writing drags its lettered feet. The question is whether the reader cares enough to get that far.
Her wings flapped rapidly up and down thrusting her hips hard against mine. Using rhythmic language, suffused with allusions to literature and art, Magdalena Zurawski recasts the bildungsroman as a vibrant and moving form. And stripping away the magic in this case is not sacrilege. Whether it's exactly Zurawski's intention to simply set a feel for insomnia or not, it does seem to be to set the mood of a yr spent in borderline alienated, but still mostly functional, delirium. When I came home and added her book on Goodreads, I realized that it was already on my to-read shelf, along with several hundred others that I routinely forget about, and that I had become interested in her book a while back when I read one of her blog entries that made me curious about her voice. Narrated in a somewhat autistic or obsessive voice take no offence please with lyrical repetitions and emotive, instinctual language.
And then I moved closer to the mirror because I wanted to make sure she wasn't me. This is a marvelous debut. The writing drags its lettered feet. About the author: Carly is a Marketing Consultant and Freelance Writer. I was certain that they marked me for some kind of genius. If you have any doubt that she suffers from personality disorder, it is put to rest at this point, when her grossly conflicting desires are openly displayed: She wants to be freed of her worrisome thoughts but is simultaneously terrified at the slightest riff in routine. The writing style definitely is a nod to the main character's position in life and over-exemplifies her obsessiveness.
I found her fascinating but had to wonder what I was getting myself into. This reviewer is not sure the journey is worth the wait. This review is too long, yadda, yadda. I fell asleep as I heard my roommates making coffee and taking showers. Currently, she lives in Durham, North Carolina.
Or to exist only in her imagination. If a movie were to be made of The Bruise it would have to translate all the activity from words to images; it would have to be something else. I mention all of this because The Bruise exists in this state. He seemed kinder than I had imagined he would be. This I used as a ledge onto which I would next push a bit of the mashed potatoes with my knife and on top of the potatoes which now rose in a mound off the back of my fork I would then push a number of peas that would stay on the back of the fork due to the stickiness of the potatoes and the gravy. The main character is laid bare throughout her growth process.
When viewed this way, the novel is, as I said, an extraordinary college novel. The story stays so deep in M---'s consciousness the people surrounding her -- although she seems more or less like a regularly social college student -- seem not to exist. About the Author Magdalena Zurawski was born in 1972 to Polish immigrants in New Jersey, where she attended Catholic School for twelve years before escaping north to Providence, Rhode Island to study literature at Brown. Yet M-- discovers that she can never get close, can never speak to someone whose world is real. She brought her dog with her, a little white thing who she placed on a chair while she read, and afterwards I bought her book and she signed it.
Using rhythmic language, suffused with allusions to literature and art, Magdalena Zurawski recasts the bildungsroman as a vibrant and moving form. To hold one's breath waiting for the plot would not be good for one's health. However, once I got used to the spiral logic, it was an easy read, and, while not quite enjoyable, it was definitely interesting to be so completely introduced to someone's emotional and logical state. She knows what is real in her head. The outside story: young woman goes to college; life is boring; she eats ham for dinner; she has a female lover; they have sex, which is boring; she goes to writing workshops, writes a story. But getting there will take a while.
You'll never forget hearing her read from it! In the chapter At the Table, M details the pesky, recurring thoughts she has while eating lunch with friends. The problem my ghost did not foresee was that even though each passage I memorized showed me how something that had a body could also have a spirit inside it in order for the words to teach me this lesson I had to let them fill up the empty space where my own spirit should have lived so that the books and parts of books that lived inside me both taught me what it would be like to live with my spirit inside me and left no room for my spirit itself. Through them, I could hear the sound of footsteps pacing back and forth along the hall. Ghosts, memories, dreams and reality become confused. A great balance with the storytelling of her senior year of college. She told a story that implied a fear of her being perceived as a schizophrenic.