On Blindness

Alright, I read this monster of a book last December and apparently it took me a whole year to finally put the review all together in a decent shape. I guess I was too overwhelmed back then to adequately write about it, not that I’ll ever adequately write about this masterpiece or do it justice.

Back to the review now after this mindless introduction.


Blindness is simply GENIUS, the kind of genius that is going to linger under your skin and leave you out of words , not knowing what exactly you’re supposed to feel other than being completely and totally mesmerized and terrified. This jewel is a very eloquent testimony , of how small we can be and how the idea of the “World as we comfortably know it” can be even more fragile than a wing of butterfly and how we are not so human as we claim to be!

“Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are.”

It’s definitely not a smooth read, Saramago’s writing style was a bit hard to follow at first, even though, it eventually comes off to be very engaging and mind-blowing and as you keep reading you come to appreciate this confusion in the text to realize you’re not better than his blind characters .

Although, there isn’t much of a plot there, I found myself breath-taken as the narrative progressed. Saramago’s beautiful insights, the way each character resemble a pattern we see everyday in our lives, in their weakness, their helplessness, their selfishness, their tiny bits of kindness they could not be more human! And you think to yourself— God!! that’s not all fiction after all — this is a very happen-able scenario, if not partially happened already!

But then, there are the few of us who have enough sight, enough empathy, enough grace such as the doctor’s wife; those are the reason why the world is still put together and not completely abandoned, those are God’s sent to us and his way of telling us that he is there watching over us, sending us portions of mercy through them. — I know Saramago is a famous agnostic and that this interpretation is not likely what he meant but still that’s how I saw it — . And I find it pretty strange that in the midst of all the darkness this novel has been, one can still find hope. I guess, that’s because there is so much conscious in the text, so much soul, this is raw writing into the human psychic at it’s finest , that’s has to give you some hope and leave you with a whole new perspective to the world and the way you perceive things and others.

Finally, this is was a very consuming read, not like any other read. And I have to admit, the cynic in me rejoiced a lot with this classic. It’s everything a gloomy morbid mind could ask for in a tale. However, it didn’t fail the dreamer in me as well.

“…Why did we become blind, I don’t know, perhaps one day we’ll find out, Do you want me to tell you what I think, Yes, do, 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…”