After my first-time reading, I wrote these on my notebook:
The story appears to be in first-person perspective throughout, but there was this irregular intimacy when the artist was telling her story. Ordinary story would quote her words, viewing her life from afar. However, this story adopted such an omnipotent point of view, like the protagonist could know all of the artist’s thoughts and all the details.
This was a rough impression though. I read the story again today and thought I can express my feeling in more detail.
It is a story about an artist and it adopted a method of painting: a switch of focus, or constantly changes of focus. From the very beginning of the conversation between the narrator and the artist there was a confusing point where the narrator seemed to know everything in the retelling of her words, while in reality, retelling would only cover a fraction of the orginal information. It was very much like the author was composing the story from a third-person perspective, where she would depict the woman’s thought, what she saw and experienced like living through her body. The narrator in the story, though, could not possibly do that. Therefore I found it switching from two foci, seeing through two persons, the narrator and the artist. I love this fresh arrangement.
In the interview, the author pointed out two coordinates she used in the story. The first one was the nude sculpture that the protagonist was studying, which coordinated with Agnes’s preference for people being nude in the face of their sufferings. The second is the protagonist’s initial attitude to Agnes’ loneliness, which coordinated with Agnes conscious neglect to her relatives’ suffering. There two arrangements appeared to be so carefully planted, and I admired them as well.
The title picture perfectly related to the content, with the canvas, the olive, the enormous woman on the table in detailed painting, and the candle and the wine. It was very enjoyable.
The story appears to be in first-person perspective throughout, but there was this irregular intimacy when the artist was telling her story. Ordinary story would quote her words, viewing her life from afar. However, this story adopted such an omnipotent point of view, like the protagonist could know all of the artist’s thoughts and all the details.
This was a rough impression though. I read the story again today and thought I can express my feeling in more detail.
It is a story about an artist and it adopted a method of painting: a switch of focus, or constantly changes of focus. From the very beginning of the conversation between the narrator and the artist there was a confusing point where the narrator seemed to know everything in the retelling of her words, while in reality, retelling would only cover a fraction of the orginal information. It was very much like the author was composing the story from a third-person perspective, where she would depict the woman’s thought, what she saw and experienced like living through her body. The narrator in the story, though, could not possibly do that. Therefore I found it switching from two foci, seeing through two persons, the narrator and the artist. I love this fresh arrangement.
In the interview, the author pointed out two coordinates she used in the story. The first one was the nude sculpture that the protagonist was studying, which coordinated with Agnes’s preference for people being nude in the face of their sufferings. The second is the protagonist’s initial attitude to Agnes’ loneliness, which coordinated with Agnes conscious neglect to her relatives’ suffering. There two arrangements appeared to be so carefully planted, and I admired them as well.
The title picture perfectly related to the content, with the canvas, the olive, the enormous woman on the table in detailed painting, and the candle and the wine. It was very enjoyable.