Jose Saramago - Seeing

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Some years ago a reliable friend told me I should read José Saramago's Blindness. Faced with pages of run-on sentences and unparagraphed dialogue without quotation marks, I soon quit, snarling about literary affectations. Later I tried again, went further, and quit because I was scared. Blindness is a frightening book. Before I'd let an author of such evident power give me the horrors, he'd have to earn my trust. So I went back to the earlier novels and put myself through a course of Saramago.
It's hard not to gallop through prose that uses commas instead of full stops, but once I learned to slow down, the rewards piled up: his sound, sweet humour, his startling imagination, his admirable dogs and lovers, the subtle, honest workings of his mind. Here indeed was a novelist worthy of a reader's trust. So at last I could read his great book – or his greatest until its sequel.
Accepting his Nobel prize, Saramago, calling himself "the apprentice", said: "The apprentice thought, 'we are blind', and he sat down and wrote Blindness to remind those who might read it that we pervert reason when we humiliate life, that human dignity is insulted every day by the powerful of our world, that the universal lie has replaced the plural truths, that man stopped respecting himself when he lost the respect due to his fellow-creatures."
This, on the face of it, is an odd description of Blindness, for in that book it is powerless people who insult human dignity – ordinary people, terrified at finding themselves and everyone else blind, everything out of control. Some behave with stupid, selfish brutality, sauve qui peut. The group of men who seize power in an asylum and use and abuse the weaker inmates have indeed abandoned self-respect and human decency: they are a microcosm of the corruption of power. But the truly powerful of our world don't even appear in Blindness. Seeing is all about them: the perverters of reason, the universal liars. It is about government gone wrong.
Very evidently Saramago's novels are not simple parables. It would be rash to "explain" what all the people (but one) in the first book were blind to, or what it is that the citizens of Seeing see. What's clear is that they're the same people, it's the same city, a few years later: one book illuminates the other in ways I can only begin to glimpse.
The story begins with those ordinary citizens, who not so long ago regained their sight and their tranquil day-to-day lives, doing something that seems quite unconnected with vision or lack of it. It is voting day, and 83% of them, after not going to the polls at all in the morning, go in the late afternoon and cast a blank ballot.
We see the dismay of bureaucrats, the excitement of journalists, the hysteria of the government, and the mild non-response of the citizens, who, when asked how they voted, refuse to say, reminding the questioner that the question is illegal. The satire is at first quite funny, and I thought it was going to be a light, Voltairean tale.
Turning in a blank ballot is a signal unfamiliar to most Britons and Americans, who aren't yet used to living under a government that has made voting meaningless. In a functioning democracy, one can consider not voting a lazy protest liable to play into the hands of the party in power (as when low Labour turn-out allowed Margaret Thatcher's re-elections, and Democratic apathy secured both elections of George W Bush). It comes hard to me to admit that a vote is not in itself an act of power, and I was at first blind to the point Saramago's non-voting voters are making. I began to see it at last, when the minister of defence announces that what the country is facing is terrorism.
Other ministers oppose him but he gets what he wants – a state of emergency, then the exodus of the government, by night, from the capital city, which is declared to be under siege. A bomb is exploded (by terrorists, of course, as the media report), killing quite a few people. An attempted evacuation of the 17% of voters who marked their ballots ends in failure, as the government forgets to tell the troops blocking all the roads to let the refugees through. The so-called terrorists in the city, still mild and peaceable, help the refugees carry back upstairs all they tried to take with them – the tea service, the silver platter, the painting, grandpa…
The humour is still tender but the tone darkens, tension rises. Characters, individuals, begin to come to the fore – all nameless except a dog, Constant, the dog of tears from Blindness. The ministers jockey horribly for power. A superintendent of police is sent into the city to find the woman who did not go blind when everyone else did four years ago, sought as the link between the "plague of white blindness and the plague of blank ballots". The superintendent becomes our viewpoint and mediator; we begin to see as he begins to see. He brings us to the woman, the gentle light-bearer of the first book. But where that story began with an awful darkness that slowly opened into light, this one goes right down into the dark.
José Saramago will be 84 this year. He has written a novel that says more about the days we are living in than any book I have read. He writes with wit, with heartbreaking dignity, and with the simplicity of a great artist in full control of his art. Let us listen to a true elder of our people, a man of tears, a man of wisdom.
Ursula K Le Guin 's Gifts is published by Orion.

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The superintendent had taken off his shoes and lain down on the bed. He was lying on his back, with his hands clasped behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, as if hoping for some advice from there or, if not that, at least what we usually call a disinterested opinion. Perhaps because it was soundproof, and therefore deaf, the ceiling had nothing to say to him, and, since it spent most of its time alone, it had practically lost the power of speech. The superintendent was going over in his mind the conversation he'd had with the doctor's wife and her husband, her face and his face, the dog that had got to its feet, growling, when he came in, only to lie down again at a word from his mistress, the old brass oil lamp which reminded him of an identical one that had been in his parents' house, but which had disappeared no one knew how, he was mixing these memories with what he had just heard from the mouths of the inspector and the sergeant and he was wondering what the hell he was doing there. He had crossed the frontier in pure movie detective style, he had convinced himself that he had come to rescue his country from mortal danger, and, in the name of that conviction, had given his subordinates ridiculous orders for which they had been kind enough to forgive him, he had tried to hold together a precarious framework of suspicions that was gradually falling apart with each minute that passed, and now he was wondering, surprised by a vague anxiety that made his diaphragm tighten, what reasonably credible information could he, the puffin, invent to transmit to an albatross who would, at this moment, be asking impatiently why he was so late in sending him news. What am I going to say to him, he wondered, that our suspicions about the osprey have been confirmed, that the husband and the others are part of the conspiracy, then he'll ask who these others are, and I'll say there's an old man with a black eye-patch who would really suit the code-name wolf-fish, and a girl with dark glasses whom we could call catfish, and the ex-wife of the guy who wrote the letter, and she could be called needle-fish, always assuming you agree with these designations, albatross. The superintendent had already got up from the bed and was talking now on the red phone, he was saying, Yes, albatross, the people I've just mentioned are not really big fish, they were just lucky enough to meet the osprey, who protected them, And what did you make of the osprey, puffin, She seemed a decent woman, normal, intelligent, and, if everything the others said about her is true, albatross, and I'm inclined to think it is, then she is clearly a quite extraordinary person, So out of the ordinary, puffin, that she was capable of killing a man with a pair of scissors, According to the witnesses, albatross, the man was a vile rapist, a totally repellent creature, Let's not delude ourselves, puffin, it's clear to me that these people have cooked up a single version of events just in case anyone should ever come and interrogate them, they've had four years to do so, and the way I see it, from the information you've given me and from my own deductions and intuitions, I would bet anything you like that these five people constitute an organized cell, probably, even, the head of that tapeworm we talked about a while ago, Neither I nor my colleagues had that impression, albatross, Well, puffin, you're going to have no option but to change your mind, We would need proof, without proof, we can do nothing, albatross, Find it, then, puffin, make a rigorous search of all their homes, But we can't make house searches without the authorization of a judge, albatross, I would remind you, puffin, that the city is under a state of siege and that all the inhabitants' rights and guarantees have been suspended, And what if we can't find any proof, albatross, I refuse to admit that possibility, puffin, you strike me as rather too ingenuous for a superintendent, as long as I've been interior minister, any proofs that weren't there always turned up in the end, What you're asking me to do is neither easy nor pleasant, albatross, I'm not asking, puffin, I'm ordering you, Yes, albatross, but I would just like to point out that we have found no evidence of any crime, there's no proof that the person whom it was decided to consider as a suspect is, in fact, a suspect, indeed, all the contacts we have made, all the interrogations we have carried out, point to the innocence of that person, The photograph taken of a detainee, puffin, is always that of someone presumed to be innocent, only afterward does one learn that the criminal was there all the time, May I ask a question, albatross, Ask and I will answer, puffin, I've always been good at giving answers, What will happen if no proof of guilt is found, The same as would happen if no proof of innocence were found, How should I understand that, albatross, That there are cases when the sentence has been handed down before the crime has even been committed, In that case, if I understand you rightly, albatross, I ask to be withdrawn from this mission, You will be withdrawn, puffin, I promise you, but not now, nor at your request, you will be withdrawn when this case is closed, and this case will only be closed thanks to the praiseworthy efforts of you and your assistants, now listen carefully, I'll give you five days, is that clear, five days, not a day longer, to hand over the whole cell to me, bound hand and foot, your osprey and her husband, to whom, poor thing, we didn't ever get round to giving a name, and the three little fishes who have just surfaced, the wolf, the cat and the needle, I want them crushed beneath a weight of evidence impossible to deny, slide out of, contradict or refute, that is what I want, puffin, All right, albatross, I'll do what I can, You will do exactly what I have just said, meanwhile, so that you don't think badly of me, and being, as I am, a reasonable person, I realize that you will need some help to bring your work to a successful conclusion, Are you going to send me another inspector, albatross, No, puffin, my help will be of a different nature, but just as effective, or possibly more so, than if I were to despatch all the police at my command, I don't understand, albatross, You will be the first to understand when the bell sounds, The bell, The bell for the last round, puffin. The line went dead.

The superintendent left the room when it was twenty minutes past six by the clock. He read the message that the inspector had left on the table and wrote underneath it, I have something to sort out, wait for me. He went down to the garage, got into the car, started it and headed for the exit ramp. There he stopped and beckoned to the attendant. Still smarting from the angry exchange of words and the ill-treatment he had received from the tenant of providential ltd, the man came reluctantly over to the car window and uttered the customary phrase, Can I help you, A while ago, I was rather rough with you, Oh, that's all right, we're used to it here, Yes, but I didn't mean to offend you, No, I'm sure you didn't, sir, Superintendent, I'm a police superintendent, here's my identification, Forgive me, superintendent, I would never have imagined, and the other gentlemen, The youngest is a sergeant and the other one is an inspector, I understand, superintendent, and I promise I won't bother you again, but I had the very best of intentions, We've been carrying out an investigation here, but that's finished now, and so we're just like anyone else, it's as if we were on holiday, although, for your own sake, I nevertheless recommend great discretion, remember that, even when he's on holiday, a policeman is still a policeman, it is, if you like, in his blood, Oh, I understand perfectly, superintendent, but, in that case, if you don't mind me speaking frankly, it would have been better not to have told me anything, what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over, he that knows nothing sees nothing, Yes, but I needed to tell someone, and you were the person nearest to hand. The car was already going up the ramp, but the superintendent had one further piece of advice, Keep your mouth shut, I wouldn't want to have to regret what I told you. He certainly would have regretted it if he had turned round, for he would have found the man muttering secretively into the phone, perhaps telling his wife that he had just met a police superintendent, perhaps informing the porter of the identity of the three men in dark suits who always go straight up from the garage to providential ltd, insurance and reinsurance, perhaps this, perhaps that, we will probably never know the truth about this phone call. A few meters further on, the superintendent drew up by the kerb, took his notebook out of his jacket pocket, leafed through it until he reached the page where he had transcribed the names and addresses of the treacherous letter-writer's former companions, then consulted the map and the city guide to check again where the traitor's ex-wife lived, since she was closest. He also made a note of the route he would have to follow to the house of the man with the black eye-patch and the girl with the dark glasses. He smiled to remember the sergeant's confusion when he told him that this would be the perfect name for the wife of the old man with the black eye-patch, But she wasn't wearing dark glasses, the poor sergeant had replied, bewildered. That was unfair of me, thought the superintendent, I should have shown him the group photo, in which the girl is standing with her arms by her side and in her right hand is holding a pair of dark glasses, elementary, my dear watson, but one had to have a superintendent's eyes to notice such things. He started the car. An impulse had made him leave providential ltd, an impulse had made him tell the garage attendant who he was, an impulse is taking him now to the home of the divorcee, an impulse will take him to the home of the old man with the black eye-patch, and the same impulse would have driven him afterward to the home of the doctor's wife had he not told them, both wife and husband, that he would be back tomorrow, at the same time, to continue the interrogation. What interrogation, he thought, would he say to her, for example, you are suspected of being the organizer, the leader, the king-pin of the subversive movement that has placed democracy in such grave danger, I am referring to the blank vote movement, and don't play the innocent with me, don't waste my time asking me if I have proof of what I'm saying, you, madam, are the one who will have to prove her innocence, because you can be quite sure, madam, that the proof will appear when it's needed, it's just a matter of inventing one or two irrefutable ones, and even if they're not completely irrefutable, the circumstantial evidence, however remote in time, will be enough for us, as will the incomprehensible fact that you did not go blind four years ago when everyone else in the city was stumbling around and bumping into lampposts, and before you say that one thing has nothing to do with the other, let me just say, she that made the saucepan made the lid, that, at least, albeit expressed in different words, is the opinion of my minister, whom I have to obey even if it makes my heart ache, now you will say, a superintendent's heart can't ache, well, that's what you think, you may know a lot about superintendents, but I can guarantee you know nothing about this one, it's true I didn't come here with the honest aim of finding out the truth, it's true that you will have been condemned before even being judged, but the heart of this puffin, which is what my minister calls me, is aching and I don't know how to make it stop, take my advice, confess, confess even if you're not guilty, the government will tell the people that they have been the victims of an unparalleled case of mass hypnosis, that you are a genius in the art, people might even be amused and life will get back on track, you'll spend a few years in prison, your friends will end up there too if we so choose, and meanwhile, of course, there'll be a reform of the electoral law and an end to blank votes, or else they'll be distributed equally amongst all the parties as valid votes, so that the percentages will not be affected, after all, dear lady, it's the percentages that count, as for the voters who abstain and fail to produce a medical certificate, why not publish their names in the newspapers just as, in the olden days, criminals were pilloried in the public square, the reason I'm speaking to you in this way is because I like you, and just so that you can see how much I like you, I will tell you that the greatest happiness life could have given me four years ago, apart from not having lost part of my family in that tragedy, which, alas, I did, would have been to be a member of the group that you protected, I wasn't a superintendent then, I was a blind inspector, just a blind inspector who, after recovering his sight, would be there in the photo along with the others whom you saved from the fire, and your dog would not have growled when he saw me, and if all that and more had happened, I would be able to declare on my word of honor to the interior minister that he is wrong, that an experience like that and four years of friendship are enough for anyone to say that they know a person well, and to think that I entered your house as an enemy and now don't know how to leave it, whether alone, in order to confess to the minister that I have failed in my mission, or accompanied by you, taking you to prison. These last thoughts did not come from the superintendent, he was now more concerned with finding somewhere to park than with anticipating decisions on the fate of a suspect and on his own fate. He once more consulted his notebook and rang the bell of the apartment block where the ex-wife of the man who wrote the letter lives. He rang again and again, but the door did not open. He was reaching out his hand to make a fresh attempt, when he saw a ground-floor window open and an elderly woman in rollers and a housecoat poke her head out, Who are you looking for, she asked, The lady who lives in the first-floor apartment on the right, replied the superintendent, She's not in, in fact, I saw her go out, Do you know when she'll be back, No idea, but I'll be glad to give her a message, said the woman, Thank you, but it doesn't really matter, I'll come back another day. It didn't even occur to him that the woman with the rollers might be thinking that the divorcee on the first floor on the right had apparently taken to receiving male visitors, the one who came this morning and this one now, who was old enough to be her father. The superintendent glanced at the map open on the seat beside him, started the car and set off for his second objective. This time, no neighbors appeared at the windows. The street door was open and so he could go straight up to the second floor, this is where the old man with the black eye-patch and the girl with the dark glasses live, what a strange couple, it's understandable that their helplessness when blind would have brought them together, but four years had passed, and while, for a young woman, four years are nothing, for an old man, it's more like eight. And yet they're still together, thought the superintendent. He rang the bell and waited. No one answered. He pressed his ear to the door and listened. Silence from the other side. He rang again out of habit, not because he expected anyone to come. He went down the stairs, got into the car and murmured, I know where they are. If he had had a direct line in his car and could have phoned the minister to tell him where he was going, he was sure the minister would reply in more or less these words, Bravo, puffin, that's the way to do it, catch those guys red-handed, but be careful, you should take reinforcements with you really, a man alone against five desperate villains, that's the kind of thing you only see in movies, besides, you don't know karate, that's after your time, Don't worry, albatross, I may not know karate, but I know what I'm doing, Go in there with your gun in your hand, terrify them, scare the shit out of them, Yes, albatross, Good, I'll start sorting out your medal now, There's no hurry, albatross, we don't yet know if I'll get out of this enterprise alive, It's a dead cert, puffin, I have every confidence in you, oh, I certainly knew what I was doing when I appointed you to this mission, Yes, albatross.

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