She passed away just last week and I was reminded that I'd been meaning to read more of her poems. This little novella is quite engaging. She thought that nobody being able to satisfy her needs and considers death as one and only solution. They were dead against of it. Career: Since 1969 lecturer in English, and since 1990 head of the Department of English, St. After reading this poetry collection I felt the dilemma inside my mind.
The result was seriously glamorous. Ele não me parece muito real, tenho muita dificuldade ainda hoje em falar dele. I killed my father when I was three. She was also a critic, columnist and writer for children. I had a great time and will be re-reading sometime later. My Students My students think it funny that Daruwallas and de Souzas should write poetry.
I'm glad to have read it. Some of her poems are dry, others left me wondering what she was talking about - all of them garnered a reaction of some sort from me. The poet reveals directly or indirectly his or her own experiences, problems and psychological complex in his or her poetry. I head for the abyss with monotonous regularity. The tarred road melts where we stand.
The only person with whom I have not exchanged confidences is my hairdresser. Cresci a sentir que era, de certa forma, uma pessoa má, de quem ninguém podia gostar. Relying on sound and rhythm, her well chosen, hard-hitting words bring out her sharp, clear imagery. Women's poetry leads to view the psychological fabric of literature, to assess the newly evolving non-traditional roles and situations of women in a fast developing society, the consequent problems and gender issues. Tales of her whiplash irony were legion. Is it me who don't understand the poetry or the writer is just writing crap.
She uses these means in a very controlled way, feeling to lead the reader to see that every word has a possible double meaning and every image may bring to mind some inner working of the speaker. My Mother Feared Death Alive or dead, mothers are troubling. It's the best I can do. Such understatement is typical as de Souza, taught by Irish nuns in a convent school in Poona in Maharashtra state, brings an astringent wit to bear upon tensions and stresses that are in part a legacy of Portuguese colonialism. Read the rest on my blog: Its a little marvel. They believed that they won their seven children by the grace of God otherwise it would not be possible.
They give voice to their dissatisfaction, bitterness, and frustration. I like that they are incomplete. All her poems seek to provoke outrage, reveal the grotesque and they do it with such such careful satire, my god. Words are the most powerful drug used by mankind. At the same time, as a young poet and academic, de Souza articulated the difficulties confronted by a woman making her way in the India of the 1960s and 1970s, a postcolonial society in which feudalism and patriarchy continued to dominate public life and the accepted perception of gender destiny.
Perhaps I wasn't in the mood for it or I am just used to something with a plot, but I struggled to get through one observation after another, eventually just piecing together this woman's life in a nutshell and how she regards the people around her. Thus, we have the divisions of enemy and friend, soul and body, the world and the self and in another frame there are the issues of love, marriage and jealousy which present her responses to these issues. Statements: An Anthology of Indian Prose in English co-edited with Adil Jussawalla Orient Longman, Mumbai, 1976. I give it four stars because it has a great use of craft and in the end, does what it sets out to do, pretending to be nothing else but a tight story about an English Literature teacher stuck teaching in a university in India at a tough time when religious fanatics run amok and studying English Literature is an elitist aspiration. She was an affectionate creature and tried hard, poor dear, but never quite made the grade. She has also written four children's books. Rina Ferreira, middle-aged and single, lecturer in English literature, tentative poet, owner of two parrots and a flat in Queen's Diamonds Building.
I hid the bloodstains on my clothes and let my breasts sag. Meeting poets Meeting poets I am disconcerted sometimes by the colour of their socks the suspicion of a wig the wasp in the voice and an air, sometimes, of dankness. She passed away just last week and I was reminded that I'd been meaning to read more of her poems. No primeiro, a capa tem uma cruz sobre a minha cabeça. Ele lia muito, julgo que estava a tentar ser um escritor - trabalhava para o governo, quando eu era pequena vivíamos no centro da Índia, foi aí que ele morreu, de uma doença incurável a que chamavam febre da água negra.