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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WHEN THE SUPERINTENDENT ARRIVED BACK AT PROVIDENTIAL LTD, IT WAS after seven o'clock in the evening, and he found his subordinates waiting for him. They were clearly not happy. How was your day, any news to report, he asked them in a bright, almost jovial tone, pretending an interest which, as we know better than anyone, he did not feel, As for the day, awful, as for news to report, even worse, replied the inspector, We would have been better off staying in bed and sleeping, said the sergeant, What do you mean, In my entire life, I cannot remember ever having been involved in such a stupid, pointless investigation, began the inspector. The superintendent would gladly have chimed in with You don't know the half of it, but he chose to remain silent. The inspector went on, It was ten o'clock by the time I reached the street where the guy who wrote the letter's ex lives, Sorry, said the sergeant, but you can't say ex, Why not, Because that could mean she was just his ex-girlfriend, Does it matter, asked the inspector, Yes, she wasn't his girlfriend, she was his spouse, All right, what I should have said was that at ten o'clock I reached the street where the guy who wrote the letter's ex-spouse lives, That's better, But spouse sounds ridiculous and pretentious, when you introduce your wife to someone, I bet you don't say and this is my spouse. The superintendent cut short the discussion, Keep that for another time, let's get to what's important, What's important, went on the inspector, is that I was there until nearly midday, and she still hadn't left her apartment, not that this really surprised me, the city's all topsy-turvy, some companies have closed and others are only working half-time, people don't necessarily have to get up early, Lucky them, said the sergeant, So did she go out or didn't she, asked the superintendent, who was beginning to get impatient, She went out at precisely a quarter past twelve, Is there some reason why you say precisely, No, sir, I naturally looked at my watch and there it was, a quarter past twelve, Go on, Well, keeping an eye on any taxis that passed, in case she should get into one of them and leave me stranded in the middle of the street looking like a complete fool, I followed her, but it didn't take me long to realize that wherever it was she was going, she would be going there on foot, And where did she go, You're going to laugh, sir, I doubt it, She walked for more than half an hour, so fast I could hardly keep up, just as if she was doing it for the exercise, and suddenly, unexpectedly, I found myself in the street where the old man with the black eye-patch and the girl with the dark glasses, you know, the prostitute, live, She's not a prostitute, inspector, She may not be one now, but she was once, it's all the same, It's all the same in your mind, but not in mine, and since it's me you're talking to and I'm your superior, kindly use words in a way that I can understand, In that case, I'll say ex-prostitute, Say the man with the black eye-patch's spouse just as, a few minutes ago, you said the guy who wrote the letter's ex-spouse, as you see, I'm using your terms, Hm, Anyway, you found yourself in their street and then what happened, She went into the building where they live and stayed there, And what did you do, the superintendent asked the sergeant, I was hiding, but when she went inside, I joined the inspector to work out a strategy, And then, We decided to work together while we could, said the inspector, and agreed on how we would proceed if we had to split up again, And then, Since it was lunchtime, we took advantage of the break, So you went and had lunch, No, sir, he'd bought two sandwiches and he gave me one, and that was our lunch. The superintendent finally smiled, You deserve a medal, he said to the sergeant, who, emboldened, responded, People have won one for less, sir, You don't know how right you are, Put my name down on the list, then. The three of them smiled, but only briefly, the superintendent's face soon darkened again, What happened next, he asked, It was half past two when they all came out, they must have had lunch together there, said the inspector, we were immediately on the alert because we didn't know if the old man had a car or not, but he didn't use it, perhaps he's saving petrol, anyway, we followed them and if it was an easy job for one, imagine what it was like for two, And where did all this end, In a cinema, they went to the cinema, Did you check to see if there was another door they could have left by without you realizing, There was one, but it was closed, just in case, though, I told him to keep an eye on it for half an hour, No one left, the sergeant confirmed. The superintendent felt weary of this comedy, What else, just summarize the rest, he said in a tense voice. The inspector looked at him in surprise, The rest, sir, well, there isn't much else, they left together when the film ended, they took a taxi, and we took another, we gave the driver the classic order We're the police, follow that car, it was just another straightforward trip, the wife of the guy who wrote the letter was the first to get out, Where, In the street where she lives, as we said, sir, we don't have any news to report, then the taxi took the others to their house, And what did you do, Well, I stayed behind in the first street, said the sergeant, And I stayed in the second, said the inspector, And then, Then, nothing, none of them went out again, and I was there for nearly another hour, in the end, I caught a taxi, passed by the other street to pick up my colleague and we came back together, in fact, we've just got in, A pointless task then, said the superintendent, It certainly seems like it, said the inspector, the most interesting thing about this whole business is that it started out fairly well, the interrogation of the guy who wrote the letter, for example, was worthwhile, even amusing, the poor devil didn't know what to do with himself and ended up with his tail between his legs, but after that, I don't know how, we got stuck, I mean, we got ourselves stuck, you must know a bit more, sir, since you got to interrogate the real suspects twice, Who are the real suspects, asked the superintendent, Well, first, the doctor's wife and then the husband, it seems quite clear to me that if they share a bed, they must share the blame too, What blame, You know as well as I do, sir, Imagine that I don't, explain it to me, The blame for the situation we're in, What situation, The blank ballot papers, the city under a state of siege, the bomb in the metro station, Do you really believe what you're saying, asked the superintendent, That's why we came here, to investigate and capture the guilty party, You mean the doctor's wife, Yes, sir, as far as I'm concerned the interior minister's orders were pretty clear on that front, The interior minister didn't say the doctor's wife was to blame, Sir, I may only be a police inspector who may never make it as far as superintendent, but I've learned from my experience in this job that things half-spoken exist in order to say what can't be fully expressed, When the next post for superintendent comes up, I'll support your promotion, but until then, the truth requires me to inform you that, as regards the doctor's wife, the word, not half-spoken, but fully expressed, is innocence. The inspector shot the sergeant a sideways glance, a plea for help, but the sergeant had the absorbed look of someone who has just been hypnotized, so he could expect no help from him. Cautiously, the inspector asked, Are you saying that we're going to leave here empty-handed, Or we could, if you prefer, leave here with our hands in our pockets, And that's how we should present ourselves to the minister, If there's no guilty party, we can't invent one, Are those your words or the minister's, Oh, I doubt they're the minister's words, at least, I don't remember having heard him say them, Well, sir, I've never heard them all the time I've been in the police, but I'll say no more, I won't open my mouth again. The superintendent got up, looked at his watch and said, Go and have supper in a restaurant somewhere, you hardly had any lunch at all, you must be hungry, but don't forget to bring me the bill so that I can stamp it, And what about you, sir, asked the sergeant, No, I had a good lunch, and if I do feel peckish, there's always tea and biscuits to keep hunger at bay. The inspector said, The respect I feel for you, sir, obliges me to say how concerned I am about you, Why, We're just subordinates, the worst thing that can happen to us is a reprimand, but you're responsible for the success of this mission and you seem determined to declare it a failure, Does declaring an accused person innocent mean that a mission has failed, It does if the mission was designed to put the blame on an innocent party, A short while ago, you stated categorically that the doctor's wife was to blame, now you're almost on the point of swearing on the holy gospel that she's innocent, Sir, I might well swear it on the gospel, but not in the presence of the interior minister, Of course, I understand, you have your family, your career, your life, That's right, sir, you might also add, my lack of courage, We're both human beings, and I would never go that far, my only advice to you is that, from now on, you take our sergeant here under your wing, I've a feeling you're going to need each other. The inspector and the sergeant said, See you later, sir, and the superintendent replied, Have a nice meal, and don't rush. The door closed.

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