I am overwhelmed.
Even though I've merely read four novels of hers, her every character portrait is so vivid and her description has always been precise and candid that every time I finish reading the whole novel, I could not help but wiping tears away and emotionally affected (mostly distressful and sorrowful, somehow).
Take The Fifth Child and The Sweetest Dream for instances, I got to be really depressed when I read her depiction of Ben (the protagonist of FC) and Sophie (the protagonist of SD). As a deformed and undesired child, Ben is forsaken in a way ever since he was born. He steps into the world with appalling, hideous physical features and is judged every minute of his survival. Similarly, the unwanted and unattended child, Sophie, when finally falls into a good hand and grows up as a humanitarian, a doctor that pulls all her effort helping to treat those in need in the rural area under a state of coup d'état in Africa, we the reader only get to find the sad ending of this skinny protagonist dying young, leaving her dream unfulfilled. This novel of Lessing's in 1997 has somewhat deepened my gloom when I was undergoing a serious familial anguish.
Right now, I am almost done reading her Time Bites and I look forward to The Cleft. In one interesting prose/review regarding Cunningham's portrait of Woolf (or shall I say, regarding Kidman's interpretation of Woolf in Daldry's movie The Hours), Lessing's critique over the character of Woolf (cast by Kidman) is anything but persuasive:
"...It was inevitable that Woolf would end up as a genteel lady of letters, though I don't think any of us could have believed she would be played by a young, beautiful, fashionable girl who never smiles, whose permanent frown shows how many deep and difficult thoughts she is having. Good God, the woman enjoyed life when she wasn't ill; liked parties, her friends, picnics, excursions, jaunts. how we do love female victims, oh how we do love them." (23)
At times, Lessing's clever, sharp and syndical, for me. And her strong opinions and critiques startle me as well. Yet, she might have the point. I do love Kidman's performance, as always, and the sight of her just makes me thrilled. While I blow hot and cold about Lessing's impression of Woolf and Kidman's presentation of Woolf, I am pondering upon Woolf's state of mind, her mental condition and her tragic death triggered by depression. Anyhow, I think Lessing should probably cut Kidman some slacks for her portrayal of Woolf; perhaps audiences/readers like me and a couple of my friends just enjoy the way how Woolf appeared to be a tragic heroine whose life was deprived because of her volatile mental constraint and her depression. But still, I found both versions and perspectives amusing.
As the temperature descends overnight and dry leaves contingently sizzle and dangle on the verge of each branch of the maple trees, for now, nothing is more soothing than a cup of hot cocoa, Lessing's writing and the soundtrack of The Prince of Tides, to me.