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MihaElla 's Reviews > The History of the Siege of Lisbon
The History of the Siege of Lisbon
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In the glowing light of the day and in the rosy spirit of the present calendar week (romance in the air...) I am overwhelmed with positive emotions and declare my ever-growing admiration and respect towards the great Portuguese writer José Saramago (1922-2010) and his golden legacy in terms of his well-known controversial, challenging, and thought-provoking novels.
I am completely and irrevocably absorbed into his works. I am jumping like a mosquito from one book to another, in a very ambitious attempt to read as much as possible, but of course I am not able to because I feel I am not grasping as much as I need in this frenzy and hectic pace, so I take one step or even two back and start anew.
I think I even firmly established my aim when reading Jose Saramago which is: to rediscover the importance and beauty of questioning; to refresh my personal writing style to the level of being able to communicate (verbally and in written) using a vocabulary that is full of savor and rhythm, as if it were not something outside the language, but intrinsic. This is a language like an uninterrupted flow, like a river, a large mass of water that slips heavy, shining, with fast forward rhythm, even if, occasionally, its course is interrupted by cataracts. I have no fear whatsoever (although pragmatically I fear water because of lack of swimming skills) to get immersed fully in this best prose (in my mind’s eyes) and to disappear there for a few days, weeks, months...maybe couple of years😊
The History of the Siege of Lisbon treats, within parallel plots [one set in the twelfth century, describing some key episodes of the ‘alternative� history of the siege of Lisbon, which our hero Raimundo Silva is asked to write; and, the other, in the twentieth century, showing the day to day routine of our proof-reader’s existence and, of course, the very important destiny encounter with a new editor who becomes his trigger for a new life…] an important aspect of speculating between historiography, historical novels and “stories inserted into history�, which seem the type of book that Saramago himself prefers to write, in the end history and fiction constantly overlap, or in Saramago’s own words: “The truth is that history could have been written in many different ways and this idea of infinitude and variation are the essence of my writing. The possibility of the impossible, dreams and illusions, are the subject of my novels�. And with this, fortunately, everything was almost covered as for review 😊😊😊
[a bit more or less extrapolating, I dare say that even myself have confronted something similar with these days. The real History is that my performance management 2018 got the final score of Exceptional which is better than Target (that I was supposed to achieve) but if/when the Grandparent (a boss of my boss, who also has a boss above his head and so on until a certain level) says that due to political-reasons, this Exceptional cannot be accepted for final/formal History, then someone enters a change in the Assessment and then the final (but no imaginary) History is that (maybe) I am just Normal,ie Target limits. ]
But, skipping over this (there is no need to leverage our satisfaction based on pecuniary ground), I am glad to acknowledge that I have thoroughly liked and loved the main male character Raimundo Benvindo Silva. In the serie of books I've read so far (luckily it seems I followed intuitively a perfect sequence, starting with Baltasar and Blimunda and then The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis), this is number 3 novel actor, and it has had an extensively positive impact over me. Could be due to number 3 magic properties. I relish 3 and any multiples of it, including number 7.
And from here on-wards I give the word to the great voice of Saramago, this being a block of text that I have had lots of fun reading it 😊😊😊 reminding me of myself.
� …Raimundo Silva must have whispered a similar plea [may God protect all of us, for we are fighting in His name], transposed into the first person singular, as he set about dialing the number of his destiny, but in a whisper so low that it scarcely passed his lips, a plea as tremulous as that of any adolescent, he himself now has more food for thought, if he thinks, whether his body is not simply one huge kettledrum where the bell of the telephone rings and rings, not the bell, the electronic signal, awaiting the sudden interruption of the call, and a voice that says, Speaking, or, What can I do for you, perhaps Hello, perhaps Who’s calling, there is no lack of possibilities amongst the conventional phrase and their modern variants, however, dazed as he was, Raimundo Silva was unable to hear what was being said, only that it was a woman speaking, so he asked disregarding any niceties, Is that Dr Maria Sara, no, it was not, Who’s speaking, it was as if Raimundo Silva wanted to know his editor’s voice, this was not a truth beyond question, but served as a simple form of identification, we are certainly not going to suggest that he introduced himself as Raimundo Benvindo Silva, proof-reader, working for the same publishing house, and even if he had, the reply would have been the same, Wait a moment, please, I’ll see if Dr Maria Sara can take your call, never had a moment been so brief, Don’t ring off, I’m carrying the telephone through, then silence.
…How are you, her voice taking him by surprise, Raimundo Silva, has expected to hear the maid say something more, such as, I’m passing the telephone to Dr Sara, that would have meant a further postponement of three or four seconds, but instead this direct question, How are you, reversing the situation, for surely it was up to him to express interest in her state of health, I’m fine, thank you, and quickly added, I wanted to know if you’re feeling better, How did you know I’ve been ill, At the office, When, Yesterday forenoon, So you decided to ring to see how I am, Yes, Many thanks for being so thoughtful, you’re the only proof-reader to have shown any interest, Well, I felt I had to, I hope I haven’t disturbed you, On the contrary, I’m deeply grateful, I’m feeling better, I think probably tomorrow or the day after, I’ll be back at the office, Well, I mustn’t tire you, I wish you a speedy recovery, Just before you ring off, how did you find my telephone number, Young Sara gave it to me, Ah, the other Sara, Yes, the telephonist, When, As I told you, yesterday forenoon, And you waited until today to call me, I was afraid of disturbing you, But you overcome your fear, I suppose so, otherwise I wouldn’t be speaking to you right now, Meantime, you should have been told that I wanted to speak to you. For two seconds, Raimundo Silva thought of pretending that he had not received the message, but before the third second passed, he found himself answering, Yes, Therefore I can assume that you couldn’t help calling me once I had taken the initiative, You may assume what you please, that’s up to you, but you must also assume that if I asked the telephonist for your number it wasn’t just to carry it around in my pocket, waiting for who knows what, there was another reason, What, Simply a lack of courage, Your courage appears to have been limited to that little proof-reading episode you don’t like me mentioning, In fact, I’m only telephoning to inquire about your state of health and to say I’ll hope you’ll soon be better, And don’t you think it’s time you asked me why I called you, Why did you call me, I’m not sure that I like your tone of voice, Words are more important than the way they’re spoken, I would have assumed that your experience as a proof-reader must have taught you that words mean nothing unless spoken in a certain tone of voice, The written word is mute, Reading gives it a voice, Except when read in silence, Even then, unless Senhor Raimundo Silva believes the brain is a silent organ, I’m only a proof-reader, like the shoemaker, I make do with carpet-slippers, my brain knows me, I know nothing about my brain, An interesting observation, You still haven’t answered my question, What question, Why did you telephone me, I’m no longer certain that I feel like telling you, So, I’m not the only coward, I don’t recall having said anything about cowardice, You spoke about a lack of courage, That’s not the same thing, The two sides of a coin are different, but the coin is one and the same, Valour is only to be found on one side, This conversation is getting beyond me and I suggest we drop the subject, besides it’s most unwise to argue like this, given your state of health, This cynicism doesn’t become you, I’m not being cynical, I know, so stop pretending, Seriously, I don’t think we know what we’re talking about, Speak for yourself, Then explain it to me, There’s no need for any explanations, You’re evading the question, It’s you who are evading the question, your’re hiding from yourself and want me to tell you what you already know, Please, Please what, I think we ought to ring off, this conversation has got out of hand, You’re to blame, Me, Yes, you, You’re much mistaken, I like things to be clear, Then try being clear and tell me why you are so aggressive whenever you speak to me, I’m never aggressive with anyone, I don’t have this modern vice, Then why are you aggressive with me, It isn’t true, Since the first day we met, should you need reminding, Circumstances, But those circumstances have changed yet you’re gone on being aggressive, Forgive me, that was never my intention, Now it’s my turn to ask you not to use such meaningless words, Agreed, I’ll say no more, Then listen, I telephoned you because I was feeling lonely,, because I was curious to know if you were working, because I wanted you to take an interest in my health, because, Maria Sara, Don’t say my name like that, Maria Sara, I like you, a long pause, Is that so, It’s the truth, You took your sweet time before telling me, And perhaps I might never have got round to telling you, Why not, We’re different, we belong to different worlds, What do you know about all these differences between us and our worlds, I can guess, observe, draw my own conclusions, These three operations can just as easily lead us to draw the right or the wrong conclusions, Agreed, and my biggest mistake right now is to have confessed that I like you, Why, Because I know nothing about your private life, whether you are, Married, Yes, or, In any way spoken for, to use an old-fashioned expression, Yes, Well, let’s imagine that I am already married or engaged, would that prevent you from being fond of me, No, And if I really were married or engaged to someone else, should that prevent me from being fond of you, if that was how I felt, I don’t know, Then you should know that I am fond of you, a long pause, Is that true, Yes, it’s true, Listen Maria Sara, Tell me, Raimundo, but first you should know that I got divorced three years ago, that I ended an affair three months ago and haven’t had any more affairs since, that I have no children but would dearly love to have them, I live with a married brother, and the person who answered the telephone was my sister-in-law, and you don’t have to tell me who took down my message, she’s your cleaner, and now, Mr Proof-reader, you may speak, pay no attention to this wild outburst, it’s that I’m brimming over with joy, Tell me, why do you like me, What can I say, I just like you, And aren’t you afraid that once you get to know me, you won’t like me anymore, It sometimes happens, in fact, it happens quite a lot, So, So, nothing, it takes time to get to know each other, I like you, I believe you, When can we see each other, As soon as I can get up from this bed of pain, Where’s the pain, All over, What is actually wrong with you, Nothing serious, or rather, the worst flu I’ve ever experienced, From where you are, you can’t see me, but I’m smiling, Now that’s really something, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a smile cross your lips, Can I confide that I love you, No, simply say that you are fond of me, I’ve already said so, Then keep the rest for the day you truly love me, should that day ever come, It will come, Let’s not bank on the future, better to wait and see what it has in store for us, and now this weak, feverish woman asks to be left in peace to rest, to recover her strength in case it occurs to someone to call back again today, To speak to you, Or you, for the phrase could just as easily refer to either of us, Ambiguity isn’t always a defect, So long, Let me leave you with a kiss, The time will come for kisses, For me it has been slow in coming, One last question, Tell me, Have you started to write your ‘History of the Siege of Lisbon�, Yes, I have, Good, for I’m not sure that I could have gone on liking you if you’d said no, Goodbye. …≫
NB: Saramago acknowledged in an article that there is a lot of him in the protagonist of the novel, Raimundo Silva, a middle-aged, isolated proofreader who falls in love with his boss, an attractive, younger editor who 'saves' him from emotional mediocrity. The novel is dedicated to his wife (as are all his subsequent books), the Spanish journalist Pilar del Rio, whom he married in 1988. In other words, this is a '...and they lived happily ever after' tale.
I am completely and irrevocably absorbed into his works. I am jumping like a mosquito from one book to another, in a very ambitious attempt to read as much as possible, but of course I am not able to because I feel I am not grasping as much as I need in this frenzy and hectic pace, so I take one step or even two back and start anew.
I think I even firmly established my aim when reading Jose Saramago which is: to rediscover the importance and beauty of questioning; to refresh my personal writing style to the level of being able to communicate (verbally and in written) using a vocabulary that is full of savor and rhythm, as if it were not something outside the language, but intrinsic. This is a language like an uninterrupted flow, like a river, a large mass of water that slips heavy, shining, with fast forward rhythm, even if, occasionally, its course is interrupted by cataracts. I have no fear whatsoever (although pragmatically I fear water because of lack of swimming skills) to get immersed fully in this best prose (in my mind’s eyes) and to disappear there for a few days, weeks, months...maybe couple of years😊
The History of the Siege of Lisbon treats, within parallel plots [one set in the twelfth century, describing some key episodes of the ‘alternative� history of the siege of Lisbon, which our hero Raimundo Silva is asked to write; and, the other, in the twentieth century, showing the day to day routine of our proof-reader’s existence and, of course, the very important destiny encounter with a new editor who becomes his trigger for a new life…] an important aspect of speculating between historiography, historical novels and “stories inserted into history�, which seem the type of book that Saramago himself prefers to write, in the end history and fiction constantly overlap, or in Saramago’s own words: “The truth is that history could have been written in many different ways and this idea of infinitude and variation are the essence of my writing. The possibility of the impossible, dreams and illusions, are the subject of my novels�. And with this, fortunately, everything was almost covered as for review 😊😊😊
[a bit more or less extrapolating, I dare say that even myself have confronted something similar with these days. The real History is that my performance management 2018 got the final score of Exceptional which is better than Target (that I was supposed to achieve) but if/when the Grandparent (a boss of my boss, who also has a boss above his head and so on until a certain level) says that due to political-reasons, this Exceptional cannot be accepted for final/formal History, then someone enters a change in the Assessment and then the final (but no imaginary) History is that (maybe) I am just Normal,ie Target limits. ]
But, skipping over this (there is no need to leverage our satisfaction based on pecuniary ground), I am glad to acknowledge that I have thoroughly liked and loved the main male character Raimundo Benvindo Silva. In the serie of books I've read so far (luckily it seems I followed intuitively a perfect sequence, starting with Baltasar and Blimunda and then The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis), this is number 3 novel actor, and it has had an extensively positive impact over me. Could be due to number 3 magic properties. I relish 3 and any multiples of it, including number 7.
And from here on-wards I give the word to the great voice of Saramago, this being a block of text that I have had lots of fun reading it 😊😊😊 reminding me of myself.
� …Raimundo Silva must have whispered a similar plea [may God protect all of us, for we are fighting in His name], transposed into the first person singular, as he set about dialing the number of his destiny, but in a whisper so low that it scarcely passed his lips, a plea as tremulous as that of any adolescent, he himself now has more food for thought, if he thinks, whether his body is not simply one huge kettledrum where the bell of the telephone rings and rings, not the bell, the electronic signal, awaiting the sudden interruption of the call, and a voice that says, Speaking, or, What can I do for you, perhaps Hello, perhaps Who’s calling, there is no lack of possibilities amongst the conventional phrase and their modern variants, however, dazed as he was, Raimundo Silva was unable to hear what was being said, only that it was a woman speaking, so he asked disregarding any niceties, Is that Dr Maria Sara, no, it was not, Who’s speaking, it was as if Raimundo Silva wanted to know his editor’s voice, this was not a truth beyond question, but served as a simple form of identification, we are certainly not going to suggest that he introduced himself as Raimundo Benvindo Silva, proof-reader, working for the same publishing house, and even if he had, the reply would have been the same, Wait a moment, please, I’ll see if Dr Maria Sara can take your call, never had a moment been so brief, Don’t ring off, I’m carrying the telephone through, then silence.
…How are you, her voice taking him by surprise, Raimundo Silva, has expected to hear the maid say something more, such as, I’m passing the telephone to Dr Sara, that would have meant a further postponement of three or four seconds, but instead this direct question, How are you, reversing the situation, for surely it was up to him to express interest in her state of health, I’m fine, thank you, and quickly added, I wanted to know if you’re feeling better, How did you know I’ve been ill, At the office, When, Yesterday forenoon, So you decided to ring to see how I am, Yes, Many thanks for being so thoughtful, you’re the only proof-reader to have shown any interest, Well, I felt I had to, I hope I haven’t disturbed you, On the contrary, I’m deeply grateful, I’m feeling better, I think probably tomorrow or the day after, I’ll be back at the office, Well, I mustn’t tire you, I wish you a speedy recovery, Just before you ring off, how did you find my telephone number, Young Sara gave it to me, Ah, the other Sara, Yes, the telephonist, When, As I told you, yesterday forenoon, And you waited until today to call me, I was afraid of disturbing you, But you overcome your fear, I suppose so, otherwise I wouldn’t be speaking to you right now, Meantime, you should have been told that I wanted to speak to you. For two seconds, Raimundo Silva thought of pretending that he had not received the message, but before the third second passed, he found himself answering, Yes, Therefore I can assume that you couldn’t help calling me once I had taken the initiative, You may assume what you please, that’s up to you, but you must also assume that if I asked the telephonist for your number it wasn’t just to carry it around in my pocket, waiting for who knows what, there was another reason, What, Simply a lack of courage, Your courage appears to have been limited to that little proof-reading episode you don’t like me mentioning, In fact, I’m only telephoning to inquire about your state of health and to say I’ll hope you’ll soon be better, And don’t you think it’s time you asked me why I called you, Why did you call me, I’m not sure that I like your tone of voice, Words are more important than the way they’re spoken, I would have assumed that your experience as a proof-reader must have taught you that words mean nothing unless spoken in a certain tone of voice, The written word is mute, Reading gives it a voice, Except when read in silence, Even then, unless Senhor Raimundo Silva believes the brain is a silent organ, I’m only a proof-reader, like the shoemaker, I make do with carpet-slippers, my brain knows me, I know nothing about my brain, An interesting observation, You still haven’t answered my question, What question, Why did you telephone me, I’m no longer certain that I feel like telling you, So, I’m not the only coward, I don’t recall having said anything about cowardice, You spoke about a lack of courage, That’s not the same thing, The two sides of a coin are different, but the coin is one and the same, Valour is only to be found on one side, This conversation is getting beyond me and I suggest we drop the subject, besides it’s most unwise to argue like this, given your state of health, This cynicism doesn’t become you, I’m not being cynical, I know, so stop pretending, Seriously, I don’t think we know what we’re talking about, Speak for yourself, Then explain it to me, There’s no need for any explanations, You’re evading the question, It’s you who are evading the question, your’re hiding from yourself and want me to tell you what you already know, Please, Please what, I think we ought to ring off, this conversation has got out of hand, You’re to blame, Me, Yes, you, You’re much mistaken, I like things to be clear, Then try being clear and tell me why you are so aggressive whenever you speak to me, I’m never aggressive with anyone, I don’t have this modern vice, Then why are you aggressive with me, It isn’t true, Since the first day we met, should you need reminding, Circumstances, But those circumstances have changed yet you’re gone on being aggressive, Forgive me, that was never my intention, Now it’s my turn to ask you not to use such meaningless words, Agreed, I’ll say no more, Then listen, I telephoned you because I was feeling lonely,, because I was curious to know if you were working, because I wanted you to take an interest in my health, because, Maria Sara, Don’t say my name like that, Maria Sara, I like you, a long pause, Is that so, It’s the truth, You took your sweet time before telling me, And perhaps I might never have got round to telling you, Why not, We’re different, we belong to different worlds, What do you know about all these differences between us and our worlds, I can guess, observe, draw my own conclusions, These three operations can just as easily lead us to draw the right or the wrong conclusions, Agreed, and my biggest mistake right now is to have confessed that I like you, Why, Because I know nothing about your private life, whether you are, Married, Yes, or, In any way spoken for, to use an old-fashioned expression, Yes, Well, let’s imagine that I am already married or engaged, would that prevent you from being fond of me, No, And if I really were married or engaged to someone else, should that prevent me from being fond of you, if that was how I felt, I don’t know, Then you should know that I am fond of you, a long pause, Is that true, Yes, it’s true, Listen Maria Sara, Tell me, Raimundo, but first you should know that I got divorced three years ago, that I ended an affair three months ago and haven’t had any more affairs since, that I have no children but would dearly love to have them, I live with a married brother, and the person who answered the telephone was my sister-in-law, and you don’t have to tell me who took down my message, she’s your cleaner, and now, Mr Proof-reader, you may speak, pay no attention to this wild outburst, it’s that I’m brimming over with joy, Tell me, why do you like me, What can I say, I just like you, And aren’t you afraid that once you get to know me, you won’t like me anymore, It sometimes happens, in fact, it happens quite a lot, So, So, nothing, it takes time to get to know each other, I like you, I believe you, When can we see each other, As soon as I can get up from this bed of pain, Where’s the pain, All over, What is actually wrong with you, Nothing serious, or rather, the worst flu I’ve ever experienced, From where you are, you can’t see me, but I’m smiling, Now that’s really something, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a smile cross your lips, Can I confide that I love you, No, simply say that you are fond of me, I’ve already said so, Then keep the rest for the day you truly love me, should that day ever come, It will come, Let’s not bank on the future, better to wait and see what it has in store for us, and now this weak, feverish woman asks to be left in peace to rest, to recover her strength in case it occurs to someone to call back again today, To speak to you, Or you, for the phrase could just as easily refer to either of us, Ambiguity isn’t always a defect, So long, Let me leave you with a kiss, The time will come for kisses, For me it has been slow in coming, One last question, Tell me, Have you started to write your ‘History of the Siege of Lisbon�, Yes, I have, Good, for I’m not sure that I could have gone on liking you if you’d said no, Goodbye. …≫
NB: Saramago acknowledged in an article that there is a lot of him in the protagonist of the novel, Raimundo Silva, a middle-aged, isolated proofreader who falls in love with his boss, an attractive, younger editor who 'saves' him from emotional mediocrity. The novel is dedicated to his wife (as are all his subsequent books), the Spanish journalist Pilar del Rio, whom he married in 1988. In other words, this is a '...and they lived happily ever after' tale.
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Reading Progress
January 27, 2019
–
Started Reading
January 27, 2019
– Shelved
February 3, 2019
–
23.89%
"..let us suppose that a man has asked a woman, Do you love me, and she remains silent, simply looking at him, Sphinx-like and distant, refusing to utter that No that will destroy him, or that Yes which will destroy both of them, then we must conclude that the world would be a better place if everyone were content with what they say, without expecting any reply and, moreover, neither demanding or desiring one."
page
75
February 3, 2019
–
25.8%
"Leonard Cohen made a gesture as if to thank him, now he could sing, and he sang of things only someone who has lived can sing of, and asks himself how much and for what, someone who has loved and asks himself who and why, and, having asked all these questions, he can find no answer, not one, contrary to the belief that all the answers are there and that all we have to do is to learn how to phrase our questions."
page
81
February 3, 2019
–
29.94%
"Dr Maria Sara remained seated but she would be on her feet to say those final words, the ones we usually disregard, those phrases on parting which repetition and habit have robbed of any meaning, a comment which is no less repetitive, introduced here to echo a comment made elsewhere at some other time and not worth any further elaboration, see Portrait of the Poet in the Year of his Death."
page
94
February 5, 2019
–
52.23%
"There are very few old men in the encampment, this is an age when most people die young, besides their legs would soon give way and their arms weaken in battle, for not everyone has the resistance of Goncalo Mendes de Maia, the Warrior who even at the age of seventy gives the impression of being in his prime, and will only at ninety be struck down by the sword of the King of Tangiers and finally die."
page
164
February 5, 2019
–
54.78%
"Everything, in the final analysis, is a question of vanity, the desire to keep up appearances, both physically and immorally, it being possible even now to imagine a time in which all human behavior will be artificial, disregarding without further thought sincerity, spontaneity, simplicity, those most excellent and shining qualities of character which were so difficult to define..."
page
172
February 5, 2019
–
54.78%
"...during a pause between coping with the problems of the siege and the trivialities of the novel which the publisher is waiting for, Raimundo Silva went out for a break. To amuse himself, mull over ideas. But on passing a florist's shop, he went in and bought a rose. White. And now he is returning home, a trifle embarrassed to be seen carrying a flower in his hand."
page
172
February 9, 2019
–
78.03%
"We're positively mad,Do you mean us, No,I was referring to people in general, I'm one of those people who thinks that human beings have always been mentally deranged,As platitudes go, that isn't bad,"
page
245
February 9, 2019
–
78.03%
"Perhaps it will sound less like a platitude if I tell you that in my opinion, madness is the result of the shock produced in man by his own intelligence and we still haven't recovered from the trauma three million years later. So, according to this hypothesis of yours, we're going from bad to worse,I'm no fortune-teller but I fear so."
page
245
February 9, 2019
–
79.3%
"The utmost care has to be taken in the use of words, never using them before the epoch in which they came into the general circulation of ideas, otherwise we shall immediately be accused of an anachronism, which, amongst the reprehensible acts in the terrain of writing, is second only to plagiarism."
page
249
February 9, 2019
–
99.36%
"It is three o'clock in the morning. Raimundo Silva puts down his pen, slowly gets to his feet, supporting himself with both hands spread on the table, as if suddenly overcome by the burden of all his years on this earth. He goes into the bedroom that is barely illuminated by a dim light, and carefully undresses, trying not to make a noise, but hoping deep down that Maria Sara will wake up..."
page
312
February 17, 2019
–
Finished Reading
Comments Showing 1-23 of 23 (23 new)
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Glenn wrote: "Happy Valentine's Day, dear MihaElla! Excellent review of an outstanding work of modern literature. I listened to the audio book some years back - fascinating intertwining stories. This is a lang..."
Thank you so very much, dear Glenn! Wishing you to enjoy a happy Valentine's Day, too, and especially love on a continuous day to day basis!
Here too, if I'm to count 30 years now since its import date, today was a flourshing output in the economic activity. Besides flowers, people seem to have placed on the second level, the food.
My pleasure to admit that I'm a happy reader. Saramago provides me with lots of intellectual rewards, laughter and introspection. I think his writing is simply marvellous, witty gifted, elevated, and mostly possessing of a peculiar charm, both serious and funny. I greatly appreciate his writing capacity, the force of his vocation and the elegance of translating into words the visions of his inner world.
Cool review, which I have chosen not to read to protect myself from spoilers. Hope you understand. A fledgling Saramago enthusiast! - )
Mark wrote: "Cool review, which I have chosen not to read to protect myself from spoilers. Hope you understand. A fledgling Saramago enthusiast! - )"You, baby bird ;-) laughing... So, I understand you appreciate the review as 'cool' based on non-read (how is that) and only on assumption that might be so. You are bringing some revolution in here/GR.
I know your work. I like the way you write. I know you don't give out five stars willy-nilly. I know that when you write a long review it is full of passion and sincerity. And I know you love José. I want to be surprised when I read a new story. I could have just pushed the like button and move on, but I felt like saying Hi. b.b.
Mark wrote: "I know your work. I like the way you write. I know you don't give out five stars willy-nilly. I know that when you write a long review it is full of passion and sincerity. And I know you love José...."Wow, so many phrases of 'I know' ;-) Thank you very much for this knowing of truth, ie my own subjective truth.
Hi, back then! I understood your view and I hope you'll be surprised as per wished ;-)
I apologize for my overuse of 'I know'. I got carried away. Hi, then! And thank you for your understanding. - )
Hi, Mark. Why do you feel to apologize for something that spoke out of yourself? I replied with thanks, appreciative, not with reproach or irritation ;-) By the way, that was a skilful slalom.
Hi, Ella. Your right. I miss read, and mis-understood and over reacted. Going back to message #6: Your very welcome! I meant my remarks as compliments and you accepted them that way, so everything is good. - )"skillful slalom" obviously a metaphor, but for what he wonders ...
I enjoyed rereading our exchange. Gosh I’m silly sometimes. I have much more Saramago confidence these days, thanks to your expert leadership.
Why, no! I don't agree on silly-ness part. I reject hearing someone doing self-condemnation unrealistically. I have laughed myself re-reading, too. That was a spontaneous chat - natural and candid. I am so happy seeing you enjoying better Saramago with each new book.
Saramago is just the ticket! 😉 Sorry for the bad writing. 😔 Yes, it was sincere. 🙂
A ticket! Where to? Sounds intriguing ;))You know this word has been perverted in understanding at my side - not because of me but because nowadays at work when you have an issue/incident or you need to have something created in the various working systems/tools (like a service request) you need to log a ticket on a platform and then wait..and wait...and wait. Normally if stars are auspicious things are solved quickly, otherwise you might start wishing to do something ill-natured - recently I got a trauma staying on the phone for 2 hrs and half for a certain case to be solved and eventually I received also therapy because I was already losing my temper - it was actually lost and I was experiencing a tantrum every 15 min, laughing ;)))
Sorry for the unsavory connection of ‘ticket� with new procedures at work. It’s mid-20th century, mid-western, American idiom for ‘just right.� I haven’t had a favorite author in a long time. Cool! 😉 (a tantrum? 🤠every 15 min? 😲 laughing ... 🙂)
Ah, don't stress too much because of it, Mark. There are many others words that became obsolete due to same reasons ;)) Yes! Saramago is 'just right' anytime. I'm happy I bought that 'ticket' too. Wow, feels great if you found him as your latest favorite.
Laugh as much as you can laugh..but a tantrum every 15 min is a very serious business ;))) Something like a tornado, hurricane, etc...The good thing was that the guy who took the case is not only very good (one of the rarest still good in his activity) but he had quite an extended understanding towards my plea (and I know I was well high exaggerating because I was very nervous...)
We’re cool! word wise. - ))I tried to make a list of favorite authors, oldest to youngest: Ian Fleming; JRR Tolkien; Herman Hesse; Henry Miller; L-F Celine; Kurt Vonnegut; Joyce; Dostoyevsky; Faulkner; Solzhenitsyn; Jose Saramago!! - ))
I liked your story about the tornado/hurricane. I was laughing at your candor: your admission to having tantrums! Watch out world! I’m sure it was all justified! Every story adds new shadings to the picture! - ))
Interesting! So far I haven't thought to make a list of my favorite authors - but at first impulse I could definitely say there is quite a big number of them. When I find an author I like - first book - I will do everything to read the next and in most cases it turns out as a new love affair.From your list, based on what I have read so far, I will happily extract JRR Tolkien, Hermann Hesse, Doestoyesvky (and many other big Russians), Saramago.
Thanks for liking the story. Well, it was justified somehow - I had to share with others the burden others put on my shoulders, basically that's why they always refer to it as 'one team', and not just 'one man show' - although I find myself more in the those shoes, not because I want to, but more because events and circumstances draw me there..
Favorite author is not a permanent title. It simply means an author who is new to me, who I like a lot, and who has a lot to of books to chose from.I’m sure all your actions were justified, even the outbursts! Your conscientious and that’s a good thing, even though some people may take advantage of it. - )
I don’t think you would ever give up on Joyce as most favorite, so it is actually an eternal top. I don’t change favorites - they are forever gaining their permanent places in my mind/ heart.
You seem more moody 🤣
What fabulous review, MihaElla. Though I'm aware of prose of Saramago (having read his Blindness) but did not know this book by him, so your excellent review is a nice introduction of it :)
No. No. No.🤫 Not moody.🤠Not changing.🤔Joyce! Dostoyevsky! Faulkner! And now Saramago! 😉🙃🙂
Gaurav wrote: "What fabulous review, MihaElla. Though I'm aware of prose of Saramago (having read his Blindness) but did not know this book by him, so your excellent review is a nice introduction of it :)"Thank you very much, Gaurav. I'm delighted to hear, since Saramago is for me one of those unforgettable writers ;) I haven't yet approached Blindness but from what I've picked from few reviews it looks like it is a great work, too. I have it in Romanian but I hope to find its English copy soon at the up-coming book fest. I am already working on enlarging my bucket list ;))
Do you plan to read more of him, sometime in the near future?
MihaElla wrote: "Gaurav wrote: "What fabulous review, MihaElla. Though I'm aware of prose of Saramago (having read his Blindness) but did not know this book by him, so your excellent review is a nice introduction o..."I'm planning to read Blindness again soon, right now I'm reading Sunflower by Krudy, probably after that.
This is a language like an uninterrupted flow, like a river, a large mass of water that slips heavy, shining, with fast forward rhythm, even if, occasionally, its course is interrupted by cataracts. I have no fear whatsoever (although pragmatically I fear water because of lack of swimming skills) to get immersed fully in this best prose (in my mind’s eyes) and to disappear there for a few days, weeks, months...maybe couple of years. ------------------ Elegantly expressed! That was my experience reading the author's luscious prose.