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featherlessredheads 's review for:
Blindness
by José Saramago
Such vivid storytelling that it made me want to take a long, hot shower
April 2020. My world as I know it seems to be collapsing under the changes brought forth by COVID-19. My work, studies, social life, gigs, hobbies, plans, birthdays and mental health are put on hold and I leave my dorm to stay with my parents for a while. I use this opportunity to pick up one my oldest hobbies, reading. My mom recommends Blindness by José Saramago to me, saying the current situation reminded her so much of this book. She warns me about the formatting and Saramago’s long, descriptive sentences, but promises the story will sink its hooks into me right from the bat. And that’s exactly what happened.
A disease spreads through a Portuguese city like wildfire, blinding people everywhere. The first contaminated group of people is quarantined in a mental hospital, which is where all hell breaks loose as it’s every man for himself. This is where the most gruesome scenes take place. Saramago manages to make you feel like you are right there with the blinded characters. You can smell the foul body odour, human excrement, decay and gastric acid. You can feel your feet touching the sticky floor as you step in something indefinable and indefinably gross. You can’t see anything, yet you picture every possible colour that repulsion can present itself in. You’re there.
I often read this book during lunch, which I can tell you, is not a good idea; some passages made me gag on my sandwich.
While this book reaches into the darkest depths of the human soul, it also shines a bright light on the caring nature of women. Most of my favourite scenes are the tender moments between the doctor’s wife and the girl with the dark glasses. The women share an understanding of the inherent trauma that comes with being a woman – which expresses itself even more after the horrifying rape scenes. They scrub this traumatizing experience off in a heavily emotional scene where the three women of the seven survivors go out into the rain and let the filth wash off.
Though it takes a little time to get used to Saramago’s writing style, it does make sense for the story. There is a sense of chaos running through the sentences while it simultaneously spreads through the city. The sentences rarely take a moment to catch a breath, because there’s no time to really catch a breath during the terrifying quarantine. The characters’ names are never revealed, because the blind don’t need names, they just need their voice to be heard.
I shed a little tear at the end when the whole city suddenly starts to regain its sight. It starts to regain its hope.
And so we are slowly starting to regain our hope during these times of corona. Though now my quarantine life during this current pandemic is not nearly as bad as it seemed...
April 2020. My world as I know it seems to be collapsing under the changes brought forth by COVID-19. My work, studies, social life, gigs, hobbies, plans, birthdays and mental health are put on hold and I leave my dorm to stay with my parents for a while. I use this opportunity to pick up one my oldest hobbies, reading. My mom recommends Blindness by José Saramago to me, saying the current situation reminded her so much of this book. She warns me about the formatting and Saramago’s long, descriptive sentences, but promises the story will sink its hooks into me right from the bat. And that’s exactly what happened.
A disease spreads through a Portuguese city like wildfire, blinding people everywhere. The first contaminated group of people is quarantined in a mental hospital, which is where all hell breaks loose as it’s every man for himself. This is where the most gruesome scenes take place. Saramago manages to make you feel like you are right there with the blinded characters. You can smell the foul body odour, human excrement, decay and gastric acid. You can feel your feet touching the sticky floor as you step in something indefinable and indefinably gross. You can’t see anything, yet you picture every possible colour that repulsion can present itself in. You’re there.
I often read this book during lunch, which I can tell you, is not a good idea; some passages made me gag on my sandwich.
Spoiler
While this book reaches into the darkest depths of the human soul, it also shines a bright light on the caring nature of women. Most of my favourite scenes are the tender moments between the doctor’s wife and the girl with the dark glasses. The women share an understanding of the inherent trauma that comes with being a woman – which expresses itself even more after the horrifying rape scenes. They scrub this traumatizing experience off in a heavily emotional scene where the three women of the seven survivors go out into the rain and let the filth wash off.
Though it takes a little time to get used to Saramago’s writing style, it does make sense for the story. There is a sense of chaos running through the sentences while it simultaneously spreads through the city. The sentences rarely take a moment to catch a breath, because there’s no time to really catch a breath during the terrifying quarantine. The characters’ names are never revealed, because the blind don’t need names, they just need their voice to be heard.
I shed a little tear at the end when the whole city suddenly starts to regain its sight. It starts to regain its hope.
And so we are slowly starting to regain our hope during these times of corona. Though now my quarantine life during this current pandemic is not nearly as bad as it seemed...