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A review by quenchgum
Blindness by José Saramago
5.0
"If you can see, look. If you can look, observe." -Book of Exhortations
"I don't think we did go blind, I think we are blind, Blind but seeing, Blind people who can see, but do not see."-Blindness
I have not read a book this painfully physical since Infinite Jest. After 300 pages immersed in a realm of inexplicable blindness, I find myself staring at my dog in wonder as she managed to jump up next to me on the couch. What were the chances that she wouldn't hit me? Or that she'd jump and hit the edge? How did she find just the right spot? Wait.. right. We're not blind.
OR ARE WE.
Classic Saramago move.
This isn't a review, but I have a couple of things to say.
One, again: this book was painfully physical. There are no quotation marks--all you hear is the cadence of a new voice chiming in, knowable only by its capitalization. Your eyes blur reading huge pages of unbroken prose and these capital letters, much like a voice in the darkness, alert you to what is happening. You find yourself looking up after every 50 pages bewildered and thankful that you do, indeed, have your eyesight.
Two: Saramago's writing is fantastic.
Three: the entire point of the book is summarized in its epitaph. Everything else is gravy.
Delicious gravy, though.
"I don't think we did go blind, I think we are blind, Blind but seeing, Blind people who can see, but do not see."-Blindness
I have not read a book this painfully physical since Infinite Jest. After 300 pages immersed in a realm of inexplicable blindness, I find myself staring at my dog in wonder as she managed to jump up next to me on the couch. What were the chances that she wouldn't hit me? Or that she'd jump and hit the edge? How did she find just the right spot? Wait.. right. We're not blind.
OR ARE WE.
Classic Saramago move.
This isn't a review, but I have a couple of things to say.
One, again: this book was painfully physical. There are no quotation marks--all you hear is the cadence of a new voice chiming in, knowable only by its capitalization. Your eyes blur reading huge pages of unbroken prose and these capital letters, much like a voice in the darkness, alert you to what is happening. You find yourself looking up after every 50 pages bewildered and thankful that you do, indeed, have your eyesight.
Two: Saramago's writing is fantastic.
Three: the entire point of the book is summarized in its epitaph. Everything else is gravy.
Delicious gravy, though.