Having Ears That Cannot See, Eyes Which Cannot Hear

The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. Bottom, in Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream (4.1.211-214).

Blindness. I started it a few years ago, and having been distracted by other more pressing things, and not wanting to begin again after a rather lengthy hiatus, put the book on the shelf to gather dust along with my self-loathing for abandoning yet another obviously important and powerful book. I forced myself to recommence. I'm surprised I didn't go blind from reading for so many hours straight.

I got past the first part I had initially read and by then, I was all in: feet, hands, and all, up to the eyeballs!

This book, while a translation (which alone makes it layered), is seemingly simplistic. Nothing could be further from the truth. If one simply took the idea of voice, it would fill many pages with all of the nuances of meaning in that concept as it is depicted by José Saramago in this amazing novel. Yes, it can be read as simply a harrowing and interesting story.... But, why limit it; or yourself, for that matter?

Like Shakespeare's King Lear, this novel plays with the denotations AND the connotations of the words blind, and see. It also has fun and many memorable antics with such words/concepts as: hear, smell, taste, touch, balance, and fear, to list just a few. Particularly peculiar is synesthesia in lines such as "... blinding a man's sense of smell" (177). A reader would be rewarded by reading and rereading this work, each time focusing on a different of the senses as the theme.

Also, the ideas of clean and dirty, good and bad, right and wrong, self and other, us and them, are explored here, as are liminality, temptation and transgression. You would think the book would be several times thicker, something in the neighborhood of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, or William Gaddis's The Recognitions, or maybe, War and Peace or The Bible, but Saramago pulls it off like he has Hermione Grainger's magic bag (which holds a large tent among other things). All the desirables and the undesirables have found representatives in Blindness. I mentioned The Bible because there is a lot of allusion to that work in this one. Adam and Eve, the lepers, and Ruth's words to Naomi: "Where you go, I will go."

The ideas behind this novel may not be known entirely, but it makes me think of the things that are truly important. If tomorrow, all the world goes blind, it won't matter if you are rich or poor, have a job or are unemployed, own a house or rent. When all the world is blind your looks no longer matter. Who cares if you have the perfect body or are a little fluffy? To the blind a Rolls Royce is not much different than a VW bug; they are unable to drive either of them.

It's the life itself that is important, that is precious; your life and the life of other living beings. The Buddha has this pegged. For some reason, the capitalism of our age has become a blind consumerism, where even relationships can be thrown away and new ones sought when we tire of them. The people who become the protagonists in this story realize the importance of relationship/trust/friendship over material or over class or any other dividing concept. People are equaled out and relationships/friendships are important. These people may not have become friends had their world not turned inside out. That's something to cogitate on. The latest iPhone, or Samsung, or even the cheapest most looked down upon flip phone, would be worthless if all the electricity was suddenly gone. Blindness has challenged me to reevaluate my priorities yet again. This is something I've done several times in my life. Don't get me wrong, here. Having things is great. I'm just trying to remind myself and you to keep it real and balanced out.

Unlike me, Saramago reminds his readers of these things without getting up on a soap box. He lets the characters live it out. The idea of show, don't tell is interesting in this work. How do you show blindness? Well, obviously it can be done; Saramago did it. Yes, he told, too, but I could see the people doing the things his words said. And, I haven't seen the film....

My only regret, besides not having finished this novel sooner, is that I can't read Portuguese and so can't read it in the original. Yet.

I hope you check it out and I hope you enjoy it, in all its gruesome glory, as much as I did.

Review of Barry B. Powell's Translation of Homer's Odyssey

There is one place in book eight that was confusing. Odysseus gives Demodokos a prime cut of meat, but the herald hands him a lyre. The other translations have the word gift, not sure how Powell got lyre there, but it is obviously supposed to be that gift of meat from Odysseus.

I'm a little put off by the typos and grammar gaffs in both the translations of this and The Iliad. And the indicators of nonexistent footnotes.

Since, overall, this is an excellent translation, I was able to overlook these picayune matters. I don't think I will actually purchase this or The Iliad until later editions when I'm hopeful the typos, etc., will be fixed. I don't buy the excuse that editors are busy. They can afford to hire proofreaders. And, how did all the early reviewers miss those things that I stumbled over and nearly came to a full stop at?

This is a wonderful translation and does deserve a place among the other modern/contemporary translations. Because of that, it also deserves a better job on the editing. Who is culpable here? The publisher? The translator? The editor? I guess I'm not finished....

It just is beyond my small intellectual capacity to understand how such an important book (couple of books, actually) can be released in such a state. It's like letting the king go out in his underclothes. We're floored by the intimacy of those things; we expect majesty; we expect royal robes worthy of the office. Even if these translations are for modern readers, we expect spelling and grammar fit for the work.

Even if it was not Homer, how hard is it to get someone to proof the thing? Would you send your children out to school in rags? I think some in our day would.

Okay, I'm finished with my rant.

Review of Barry B. Powell's Translation of Homer's Iliad

I'm overwhelmingly grateful that Barry B. Powell did not use the word 'careering' in his translation of Homer's Iliad. That word jarred me all through a previous translator's translation (name withheld to protect my own backside). It is an ugly, unfortunate word which in my mind wars against its very definition. It was like riding with a driver who slams heavily on the brakes at every stop: annoying and exhausting. Perhaps I'm overreacting, but this is my review, so I think that is my prerogative. Right? Well, anyway, back to Powell's welcome translation.

Apart from a few typos (The funniest is when 'gods' is put in for 'dogs' in book 24 line 402, which makes it sound like the gods eat humans. Wrong religion, I think.) and at least one place where a footnote is indicated but nonexistent (22.327: 'knees'), and a few notes which a quick glance at a few other translations would solve -- (the most troublesome example is book 24 lines 44-46. Here Powell translates the Greek αιδως as 'respect,' which I think really only works in it's old connotation, i.e. and e.g. the phrase from the King James Bible: "God is no respecter of persons" (Acts 10.34). In that way, i.e. respecting another's opinion of you can cause harm. (For a more thorough look at this idea, read: Bertrand Russell's The Conquest of Happiness, where he writes: "... the respect of their neighbors depends upon their possession of a good car and their ability to give good dinners....") The other translations I looked at chose to use 'shame,' which makes it more evident how it can harm as well as help.) -- this is a wonderful translation. It is easy to read and the copious notes make it a valuable addition to any Homeric geek's bookshelf.

There are several places, marked in the text by a speaker icon, which are read by the author. These recordings can be found at the book's website. Unfortunately, this feature is not mentioned in the actual book; I had to dig around online to figure it out. It would have been quite easy to mention it in a footnote, or in the introduction. I can only assume that this was another overlooked and forgotten footnote. Still, I haven't listened to the recordings, so ...

I am partial to Lattimore's translation, but find Powell's enjoyable and refreshing; if that can be said about such a bloody and violent work. I try not to let those themes keep me from the other, more interesting and pertinent themes for our time. A new translation of Homer's Iliad only serves to show the continued importance of this classic. Of course, as usual, not everyone will agree with that. That's okay. Without the strife of disagreement, the friction necessary for growth would be missed.

I plan to reread and reread Powell's wonderful translation. I hope you will read it at least once and decide for yourself if you like it or not.