The Darkness Inside

I have been reading again the beautiful work of José Saramago. His prose is quite dense, featuring unbelievably long sentences and no special delineation of dialogue, each thought punctuated only by a comma. But still, without doubt, the narrative and soul of the work warrants the careful reading required.

My present Saramago project, All the Names, tells of Senhor José and his struggle to find truer purpose in a life of isolation and habit. Wading languidly through phrase after phrase, a little gem of words will reveal itself to me, and I will pause to consider its facets and take in its shine. Such was the case reading yesterday, considering the journey of Senhor José through the archive of the dead and receiving this truth:

Don't be afraid, the darkness you're in is no greater than the darkness inside your own body, they are two darknesses separated by a skin, I bet you've never thought of that, you carry a darkness about with you all the time and that doesn't frighten you, …

I will leave you to take your own meaning, even if such is difficult or impossible lacking the context of the novel. Or perhaps I will say, and not altogether seriously, that all matters without are likewise within. Regardless, read Saramago: Blindness and The Double were each fantastic. Saramago received the Nobel Prize for literature in 1998 and for good reason. Happy reading!