Reading this amazing novel (Death at Intervals) by Saramago. Oh,, what can I say about it... The more you read Saramago, the more enchanted you feel. Food for thought! Yes, feels as if this guy is inexhaustible. In this book, he plays with the idea of Death. I am at the place where it is best to be in a good book: right in the middle of it. Woof, what unbelievable pages I am reading; these are some thoughts that Saramago, taking you by the arm, show once; then twice. At this stage of the book, I’d share a thought that he’s held in his arms for us to hold and think about:
"By the way, we feel we must mention that death, by herself and alone, with no external help, has always killed far less than mankind has." p. 98
In the context of the narrative, these words appear at a point, where you are taken aback, with eyes opening to the extent of your mind noticing it.
The pages that follow, have opened up the argument in the most subtle of ways. Surely, with Saramago, I can never gain a foothold to stand firm, as the so called reader. That is so until I finish the entire book. Before that, don’t even think about it!