Should I be starting a coven with these women?

Hello all, and welcome back to the cottage. 

I feel as though this week's read has been the most intriguing and immersive so far, and though again I write these thoughts before I have even finished the book, this time it's really because I'd like to get these thoughts down before I forget them. 

First of all, how curious is it that my mind would compare The Shrouded Woman to Brontë's Wuthering Heights? This may be a funny, even ridiculous thought in hindsight, should I go on to have a greater understanding of both these novels (perhaps even this week, once discussions take place), but the atmospheric energy and voice of the shrouded woman (Ana María, because I would never write a title in intentional lowercase) was to me, reminiscent of Brontë's Catherine--especially in one of Ana María's first memories when she recalls her childhood and Ricardo (is it too ridiculous if I were to call him her Heathcliff?). 

Hopefully it isn't ridiculous--or insulting--for me to compare a Romantic novel with an English one. A portion of my fascination with this observation lies in the images we conjure in our heads when we read--really, why was it that I pictured some old-century English mansion in the moors rather than the hacienda in the South? Perhaps that could generate a couple of questions for discussion this week: what did you picture when you were reading The Shrouded Woman? Did it remind you of any other novels that you've read before, maybe even one of the books that we have previously read together?

Every new memory that I witnessed through the mind of Ana María served to convince me that there is something deeply fascinating about (for lack of a better word) crazy women. Perhaps my reading of Nadja has lent some influence to this idea, but as exemplified by Luz-Margarita, "there are people so small that life and death will always pass them over..." (Bombal, 182), whereas there are those who, in observing the Luz-Margaritas around them, strives to differentiate themselves. Sometimes this is not even their intention, yet it is achieved--Ana María certainly struck me as a unique-minded individual. 

I entertained myself with thoughts of forming a coven of madwomen with Nadja and Ana María during the lulls in my reading (though there were few, surprisingly), because what an interesting conversation it would be for the two of them to meet. That leads me to a new thought--the surrealist elements in Nadja surrounded Nadja's character and her perception of life, but The Shrouded Woman is bound by memories of life and the perception of death. Hmm. 

I almost wish, was there more time, that we could come back and write some second thoughts and impressions. I've been reading the novel, started writing about halfway through, then returned to reading before I returned to finish off this scroll. Thank goodness that we get to dedicate two discussions to this novel. 

Just a couple of notes, somewhat for myself: I'm going to start answering comments, since it makes for good thought-generating discussion, and for any of you who are leaving comments here, I'd like to remind you that you have the option of creating your own woodland (or otherwise fantastical) character, just for fun! 

Your local woodland witch, 

June