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La caverna
Una pequeña alfarería, un centro comercial gigantesco. Un mundo en rápido proceso de extinción, otro que crece y se multiplica como un juego de espejos donde no parece haber límites para la ilusión engañosa. La caverna habla de un modo de vivir que cada vez va siendo menos el nuestro. Todos los días se extinguen especies animales y vegetales, todos los días hay profesiones que se tornan inútiles, idiomas que dejan de tener personas que los hablen, tradiciones que pierden sentido, sentimientos que se convierten en sus contrarios.
Una familia de alfareros comprende que ha dejado de serle necesaria al mundo. Como una serpiente que muda de piel para poder crecer en otra que más adelante también se volverá pequeña, el centro comercial dice a la alfarería: «Muere, ya no necesito de ti». (less)
Una familia de alfareros comprende que ha dejado de serle necesaria al mundo. Como una serpiente que muda de piel para poder crecer en otra que más adelante también se volverá pequeña, el centro comercial dice a la alfarería: «Muere, ya no necesito de ti». (less)
448 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2000
1167 people are currently reading
17527 people want to read
About the author
José Saramago
307 books16.4k followersJosé de Sousa Saramago (16 November 1922 – 18 June 2010) was a Portuguese novelist and recipient of the 1998 Nobel Prize in Literature, for his "parables sustained by imagination, compassion and irony [with which he] continually enables us once again to apprehend an elusory reality." His works, some of which have been seen as allegories, commonly present subversive perspectives on historic events, emphasizing the theopoetic. In 2003 Harold Bloom described Saramago as "the most gifted novelist alive in the world today."
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jos%C3%...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jos%C3%...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,529 reviews
May 2, 2025
Protagonist is a sixty-four-year-old potter… He has a daughter… She has a husband…
Banality of living… Wisdom of living…
Pottery is no longer in demand… So one must find a new way of living… Cave is a hollow were the past is left…
Times change and discard everything that stands in the way of changing
Banality of living… Wisdom of living…
Try to understand, what will be, as the saying goes, will be, the world doesn’t stop turning, and if the people you depend on for your living promote you, you should raise your hands to heaven in gratitude, it would be silly to turn our backs on fate when fate is on our side…
Pottery is no longer in demand… So one must find a new way of living… Cave is a hollow were the past is left…
It is said that a long time ago a god decided to make a man out of the clay from the earth that he had previously created, and then, in order that the man should have breath and life, he blew into his nostrils. The whisper put around by certain stubborn, negative spirits, when they do not dare to say so out loud, is that after this supreme act of creation, the god never again practiced the arts of pottery, a roundabout way of denouncing him for, quite simply, having downed tools.
Times change and discard everything that stands in the way of changing
November 26, 2025
Saramago sets this story in a dystopia but it is not far off in the future – we almost live in it now!
The Center is where the well-off live. It’s a massive single 50-story building with apartments, galleria malls, museums and Disneyland areas. Every kind of experience imaginable is offered including all sports, such as skiing, and “environmental rooms” where you can experience sunny beaches, rain and blizzards. Around the Center are rings of slums, industrial factories and factory farms in greenhouses.
It’s a big brother dystopia. Security guards and video cameras are everywhere, and any unusual behavior gets you noticed and perhaps “written up” by the guards. When you drive outside the Center you are stopped by guards “checking your documents.” Because supply trucks have to bring goods and food in from the rings outside the Center, they have to pass through the slums. Occasionally they are waylaid by bandits but because this is a Portuguese dystopia, the police kind of let it happen without much ado.
The story, which we are told in the blurbs, is simple. An old man, a widower and a potter, lives in the far outskirts, a traditional rural village beyond the Center and its rings. He lives with his only daughter and her husband. Her husband is a guard in the Center but lives in a dormitory and commutes home for a few days off every ten days or so. His dream is to become a “resident guard” – that is, get a promotion and with it an apartment to live full-time in the magical Center and bring his wife and father-in-law with him.
The old potter struggles to make a living. He sells plates and pots to the Center but recently people have stopped buying them, so he is experimenting with making decorative ceramic dolls. His daughter helps him.
The business collapses; the son gets his job and they all move into dreamland. You can imagine what the old man thinks of this – his life was his work and his identity. Now retired, he wanders aimlessly around Disneyland all day. The only other significant character in the story is a widow in the village. The old man and the widow are sweet on each other but he won’t think about marriage because he cannot support her without his pottery business, now defunct.
And maybe we can count the dog as a character too: “Everyone tells us that animals stopped talking a long long time ago, however, no one has yet been able to prove that they have not continued to make secret use of thought.”
Now the title. A short time after they have all moved to an apartment in the Center, new construction uncovers an archaeological site in a cave. The area is blocked off and guarded; guards are forbidden to talk about what is in the cave. But the son-in-law lets the old man in to view it. It is so horrific and shocking that the son-in-law quits his job and they all decide to leave the Center and start over somewhere else. [It is horrifying and I’m not even putting it in a spoiler!]
The book is written in a stream of consciousness style with long sentences, mostly using commas, but it is divided into fairly short chapters (8-12 pages).
The author has won the Nobel Prize, so we expect and we get great writing and deep thoughts:
“It is true what people say, the young have the ability, but lack the wisdom, and the old have the wisdom, but lack the ability.
Daughter: “Don’t talk about dying, Pa.”
Father: “The only time we can talk about death is while we’re alive, not afterward.”
“…the game of give and take which is what married life almost always comes down to”
“Life is like that, full of words that are not worth saying or that were worth saying once but not any more, each word that we utter will take up the space of another more deserving word, not deserving in its own right, but because of the possible consequences of saying it.”
“Some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don’t understand that the words are merely stepping stones paced across a fast-flowing river, and the reason they’re there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it’s the other side that matters”
“He had suddenly seen what the world was like, how there are many lies and no truths, well, there must be some out there, but they are continually changing, and not only does a possible truth give us insufficient time to consider its merits, we also have to check first that this possible truth is not, in fact, a probable lie.”
“but nowadays, it is only from eighty years onward that old age, authentic and unambiguous and from which there can be no return, nor even any pretense of a return, begins, de facto and unapologetically, to deserve the name by which we designate our last days.”
“arguments are more or less random groups of words waiting to be placed in a syntactical order that will give them a sense they themselves are not entirely sure that they have.”
“At that moment he realized that his memory of the dream was about to flee, that he would only manage to hold on to bits of it, and he did not know whether he should rejoice over the little that remained or regret the much that was lost, this is something else that often happens after we have dreamed.”
In a witty and humorous passage the author dissects old ‘nuggets of wisdom’ which he calls a “malignant plague.” It is funny how you can savage things like “know thyself,” “where there’s a will there’s a way,” and “begin at the beginning.”
A great read. I’ve read many of Saramago’s books and this is now my favorite. Below are links to my reviews of other novels of his:
Blindness
The Double
All the Names
The Lizard - a children’s book
The Stone Raft
Death with Interruptions
Cain
Raised from the Ground
The Tale of the Unknown Island – short story
Photo of Lisbon from independent.co.uk
Photo of the author from therumpus.net
The Center is where the well-off live. It’s a massive single 50-story building with apartments, galleria malls, museums and Disneyland areas. Every kind of experience imaginable is offered including all sports, such as skiing, and “environmental rooms” where you can experience sunny beaches, rain and blizzards. Around the Center are rings of slums, industrial factories and factory farms in greenhouses.
It’s a big brother dystopia. Security guards and video cameras are everywhere, and any unusual behavior gets you noticed and perhaps “written up” by the guards. When you drive outside the Center you are stopped by guards “checking your documents.” Because supply trucks have to bring goods and food in from the rings outside the Center, they have to pass through the slums. Occasionally they are waylaid by bandits but because this is a Portuguese dystopia, the police kind of let it happen without much ado.
The story, which we are told in the blurbs, is simple. An old man, a widower and a potter, lives in the far outskirts, a traditional rural village beyond the Center and its rings. He lives with his only daughter and her husband. Her husband is a guard in the Center but lives in a dormitory and commutes home for a few days off every ten days or so. His dream is to become a “resident guard” – that is, get a promotion and with it an apartment to live full-time in the magical Center and bring his wife and father-in-law with him.
The old potter struggles to make a living. He sells plates and pots to the Center but recently people have stopped buying them, so he is experimenting with making decorative ceramic dolls. His daughter helps him.
The business collapses; the son gets his job and they all move into dreamland. You can imagine what the old man thinks of this – his life was his work and his identity. Now retired, he wanders aimlessly around Disneyland all day. The only other significant character in the story is a widow in the village. The old man and the widow are sweet on each other but he won’t think about marriage because he cannot support her without his pottery business, now defunct.
And maybe we can count the dog as a character too: “Everyone tells us that animals stopped talking a long long time ago, however, no one has yet been able to prove that they have not continued to make secret use of thought.”
Now the title. A short time after they have all moved to an apartment in the Center, new construction uncovers an archaeological site in a cave. The area is blocked off and guarded; guards are forbidden to talk about what is in the cave. But the son-in-law lets the old man in to view it. It is so horrific and shocking that the son-in-law quits his job and they all decide to leave the Center and start over somewhere else. [It is horrifying and I’m not even putting it in a spoiler!]
The book is written in a stream of consciousness style with long sentences, mostly using commas, but it is divided into fairly short chapters (8-12 pages).
The author has won the Nobel Prize, so we expect and we get great writing and deep thoughts:
“It is true what people say, the young have the ability, but lack the wisdom, and the old have the wisdom, but lack the ability.
Daughter: “Don’t talk about dying, Pa.”
Father: “The only time we can talk about death is while we’re alive, not afterward.”
“…the game of give and take which is what married life almost always comes down to”
“Life is like that, full of words that are not worth saying or that were worth saying once but not any more, each word that we utter will take up the space of another more deserving word, not deserving in its own right, but because of the possible consequences of saying it.”
“Some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don’t understand that the words are merely stepping stones paced across a fast-flowing river, and the reason they’re there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it’s the other side that matters”
“He had suddenly seen what the world was like, how there are many lies and no truths, well, there must be some out there, but they are continually changing, and not only does a possible truth give us insufficient time to consider its merits, we also have to check first that this possible truth is not, in fact, a probable lie.”
“but nowadays, it is only from eighty years onward that old age, authentic and unambiguous and from which there can be no return, nor even any pretense of a return, begins, de facto and unapologetically, to deserve the name by which we designate our last days.”
“arguments are more or less random groups of words waiting to be placed in a syntactical order that will give them a sense they themselves are not entirely sure that they have.”
“At that moment he realized that his memory of the dream was about to flee, that he would only manage to hold on to bits of it, and he did not know whether he should rejoice over the little that remained or regret the much that was lost, this is something else that often happens after we have dreamed.”
In a witty and humorous passage the author dissects old ‘nuggets of wisdom’ which he calls a “malignant plague.” It is funny how you can savage things like “know thyself,” “where there’s a will there’s a way,” and “begin at the beginning.”
A great read. I’ve read many of Saramago’s books and this is now my favorite. Below are links to my reviews of other novels of his:
Blindness
The Double
All the Names
The Lizard - a children’s book
The Stone Raft
Death with Interruptions
Cain
Raised from the Ground
The Tale of the Unknown Island – short story
Photo of Lisbon from independent.co.uk
Photo of the author from therumpus.net
November 26, 2025
Again, this is a beautiful text from Saramago. I have rediscovered this particular style; the author describes his characters and situations as seen above. Bringing humor to second-degree commentary, the characters lead their existence while specifying that it ultimately controls them, becoming like an all-powerful god.
In "The Cave," Saramago describes our world as an extension of Plato's allegory of the cave. We are chained to the bottom of the cave, fascinated by the shadows cast there and convinced it is the real world. This novel indicts our consumer society, which is futile and superficial, governed by merchants, and creates useless and mortal needs.
We never know what the Center is, who these people are, or who governs. Cipriano Algor, the potter, has relations only with officials, subordinates, and sub-chiefs. His son-in-law, Marçal, was recruited as a resident guard without understanding why these guards were in the Center. Throughout the novel, we can only think of the world of Kafka. Notably, this exchange between a sub-chief and Cipriano, who irresistibly thought of the fall of the Kafka Trial:
"My dear sir, I suppose you do not expect me to tell you the secret of the bee, I've always heard that the secret of the bee does not exist, Of a mystery, of a false mystery, of a fable that must be reinvented, of a tale that could have been but has not been. You are right, the secret of the bee, Not exist, but we know it. "
This quote highlights Saramago's distinctive style, which uses only commas, punctuation, and capital letters for dialogue.
Saramago parallels the chained bodies found at the bottom of the cave under the Center and the clay figurines made by Cipriano and his daughter. But unlike corpses, which represent us chained to the wall at the bottom of a cave, puppets symbolize a new man. Free in this sense: they removed the oven and the image of the cave, and exposed it outside. The rain processed the sludge and the sun's dust, returning them to their natural origins in an endless cycle of creation.
(A Beautiful Book, like all the writings of Saramago).
In "The Cave," Saramago describes our world as an extension of Plato's allegory of the cave. We are chained to the bottom of the cave, fascinated by the shadows cast there and convinced it is the real world. This novel indicts our consumer society, which is futile and superficial, governed by merchants, and creates useless and mortal needs.
We never know what the Center is, who these people are, or who governs. Cipriano Algor, the potter, has relations only with officials, subordinates, and sub-chiefs. His son-in-law, Marçal, was recruited as a resident guard without understanding why these guards were in the Center. Throughout the novel, we can only think of the world of Kafka. Notably, this exchange between a sub-chief and Cipriano, who irresistibly thought of the fall of the Kafka Trial:
"My dear sir, I suppose you do not expect me to tell you the secret of the bee, I've always heard that the secret of the bee does not exist, Of a mystery, of a false mystery, of a fable that must be reinvented, of a tale that could have been but has not been. You are right, the secret of the bee, Not exist, but we know it. "
This quote highlights Saramago's distinctive style, which uses only commas, punctuation, and capital letters for dialogue.
Saramago parallels the chained bodies found at the bottom of the cave under the Center and the clay figurines made by Cipriano and his daughter. But unlike corpses, which represent us chained to the wall at the bottom of a cave, puppets symbolize a new man. Free in this sense: they removed the oven and the image of the cave, and exposed it outside. The rain processed the sludge and the sun's dust, returning them to their natural origins in an endless cycle of creation.
(A Beautiful Book, like all the writings of Saramago).
June 11, 2024
بعد قراية ٣٥٠ صفحة من اصل ٤٧٠ قررت إني مش حكمل الكتاب دة..
مع الاحترام لسارماغو بس حقيقي يا أفندم إنت جبتيلي شلل..ومش قادرة أفهم إنت عاوز توصل لايه...رغي ولت وعجن و مفيش حتي أحداث..
العمر قصير إني أضيعه في قراية كتاب مش عاجبني..
مع الاحترام لسارماغو بس حقيقي يا أفندم إنت جبتيلي شلل..ومش قادرة أفهم إنت عاوز توصل لايه...رغي ولت وعجن و مفيش حتي أحداث..
العمر قصير إني أضيعه في قراية كتاب مش عاجبني..
October 19, 2020
Making Words Visible
A love story for the elderly? A Lovecraftian fantasy? A documentary about craft pottery-making? A family saga of Portuguese modernity? Well actually The Cave is all of these and more as Saramago crosses genre boundaries with his usual and unique style to create a remarkably readable philosophical novel. What binds the book together is Saramago's lifelong concern about words. The Cave is an exploration of how much we can trust words. His answer is: Just about as far as we can throw them. Many of us are familiar with his suspicion of language, that...
"...vague obscure feeling of being part of something dangerously complex and, so to speak, full of slippery meanings, a whole made up of parts in which each individual is, simultaneously, both one of the parts and the whole of which he is a part."
The one-word description of how Saramago treats words is 'delicacy'. Not just delicacy in written description, but how we as human beings are delicate in our use of words with each other in everyday life. Delicacy is far too delicate for crude philosophical dialectic. In real relationships delicacy doesn't depend on conflict but on appreciation and the holding of conflict in suspension.
Patience not decisiveness is required for delicacy to emerge. It takes time to sweep in and collect what is said with what is unsaid. How so much unsaid in fact goes into making the words that are said. And how much of the unsaid is communicated very effectively indeed through what is said. Delicacy demands a sort of spiritual stance:
"...some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don't understand that the words are merely stepping stones placed across a fast flowing river, and the reason they're there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it's the other side that matters."
Dogs know this. Which is a good reason for making a dog one of The Cave's central characters. Dogs are able to reduce what are - to humans - complex patterns of speech to simple emotional conditions - happiness, meditativeness, anxiety, frustration - and leave it at that. Dogs have only a limited repertoire in responding to delicacy, however; mainly they just remain attentive to it. Human beings go the step beyond and, at their best, respond delicately to delicacy with remarkable finesse.
Human wordiness is the bridge of relationship, even when, perhaps especially when, words are withheld. Words obviously have power: to move, to instruct, to reconcile. In a sense they are the essence of humanness. Or rather, it is what we do with words that makes us human: we play:
".....what you call playing with words is just a way of making them more visible."
It is when words become invisible, that is indistinguishable from reality, that they become a danger to humanity, and to the rest of the world. Words used indelicately, even unintentionally, can hurt. They can distort what is real, especially by crudely mendacious mis-naming. They can cause unnecessary anxiety, even when they are meaningless, or especially when they are meaningless jargon. In the mouths of those who want to dominate us, they of course can be devastating, perhaps lethal. Saramago makes visible the nonsense of contemporary ad-speak:
"You're our best customer but don't tell your neighbour."
The skill required to make the power and limitations of verbal and written communication visible, and to make them in turn equal with the variety of other symbolic ways we express ourselves, to ourselves as well as to others, is immense:
"Human vocabulary is still not capable, and probably never will be of knowing, recognising and communicating everything that can be humanly experienced and felt."
Even greater skill is required to use words to describe these basic skills of controlling language. At this Saramago is an undisputed master. His guiding principle is clear:
"...we must never violate what constitutes the exclusive and essential character of a person, that is, his personality, his way of being, his own unmistakable nature. A character can be full of contradictions, but [it is ] never incoherent..."
It is this basic presumption, that human beings, always and everywhere, are pursuing purpose, even when they appear to be floundering, that is the core of Saramago's work, nowhere better stated than in The Cave. Thus he shows the profound connection between our appreciation of words, aesthetics; and our appreciation of other people, ethics. Remarkable indeed.
A love story for the elderly? A Lovecraftian fantasy? A documentary about craft pottery-making? A family saga of Portuguese modernity? Well actually The Cave is all of these and more as Saramago crosses genre boundaries with his usual and unique style to create a remarkably readable philosophical novel. What binds the book together is Saramago's lifelong concern about words. The Cave is an exploration of how much we can trust words. His answer is: Just about as far as we can throw them. Many of us are familiar with his suspicion of language, that...
"...vague obscure feeling of being part of something dangerously complex and, so to speak, full of slippery meanings, a whole made up of parts in which each individual is, simultaneously, both one of the parts and the whole of which he is a part."
The one-word description of how Saramago treats words is 'delicacy'. Not just delicacy in written description, but how we as human beings are delicate in our use of words with each other in everyday life. Delicacy is far too delicate for crude philosophical dialectic. In real relationships delicacy doesn't depend on conflict but on appreciation and the holding of conflict in suspension.
Patience not decisiveness is required for delicacy to emerge. It takes time to sweep in and collect what is said with what is unsaid. How so much unsaid in fact goes into making the words that are said. And how much of the unsaid is communicated very effectively indeed through what is said. Delicacy demands a sort of spiritual stance:
"...some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don't understand that the words are merely stepping stones placed across a fast flowing river, and the reason they're there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it's the other side that matters."
Dogs know this. Which is a good reason for making a dog one of The Cave's central characters. Dogs are able to reduce what are - to humans - complex patterns of speech to simple emotional conditions - happiness, meditativeness, anxiety, frustration - and leave it at that. Dogs have only a limited repertoire in responding to delicacy, however; mainly they just remain attentive to it. Human beings go the step beyond and, at their best, respond delicately to delicacy with remarkable finesse.
Human wordiness is the bridge of relationship, even when, perhaps especially when, words are withheld. Words obviously have power: to move, to instruct, to reconcile. In a sense they are the essence of humanness. Or rather, it is what we do with words that makes us human: we play:
".....what you call playing with words is just a way of making them more visible."
It is when words become invisible, that is indistinguishable from reality, that they become a danger to humanity, and to the rest of the world. Words used indelicately, even unintentionally, can hurt. They can distort what is real, especially by crudely mendacious mis-naming. They can cause unnecessary anxiety, even when they are meaningless, or especially when they are meaningless jargon. In the mouths of those who want to dominate us, they of course can be devastating, perhaps lethal. Saramago makes visible the nonsense of contemporary ad-speak:
"You're our best customer but don't tell your neighbour."
The skill required to make the power and limitations of verbal and written communication visible, and to make them in turn equal with the variety of other symbolic ways we express ourselves, to ourselves as well as to others, is immense:
"Human vocabulary is still not capable, and probably never will be of knowing, recognising and communicating everything that can be humanly experienced and felt."
Even greater skill is required to use words to describe these basic skills of controlling language. At this Saramago is an undisputed master. His guiding principle is clear:
"...we must never violate what constitutes the exclusive and essential character of a person, that is, his personality, his way of being, his own unmistakable nature. A character can be full of contradictions, but [it is ] never incoherent..."
It is this basic presumption, that human beings, always and everywhere, are pursuing purpose, even when they appear to be floundering, that is the core of Saramago's work, nowhere better stated than in The Cave. Thus he shows the profound connection between our appreciation of words, aesthetics; and our appreciation of other people, ethics. Remarkable indeed.
May 14, 2017
-Πόσο περίεργη η σκηνή που περιγράφεις
Και τι περίεργοι φυλακισμένοι,
-Όμοιοι μ΄εμάς.
(Πλάτων, Πολιτεία, Βιβλίο Ζ΄)
Εκπληκτικό βιβλίο. Τοσο απλό και τοσο μοναδικό που μπορεί να χαρακτηριστεί σπουδαίο.
Η σπηλιά του Σαραμάγκου αρχαικη και συμβολική με αμέτρητο βάθος συναισθημάτων και εννοιών.
Αυτός ο "φιλόσοφος" συγγραφέας ειναι κυρίαρχος ερμηνευτής και τροφοδότης σκέψης σαν πάνσοφος ρήτορας γράφει και αναλύει χωρις να παρεμβαίνει στην κατανόηση και την ερμηνεία που δίνει ο αναγνωστης στα νοήματα του.
Μπες στη σπηλιά,σου λέει, κοίτα, σύγκρινε,αναλογίσου,θυμήσου, νιώσε αλλα κυρίως χρησιμοποίησε το μυαλό σου, αγνόησε τα αισθηματικά κριτήρια, προχωρά στην κοσμοθεωρία της αλήθειας και της αυτοβελτίωσης.
Σίγουρα δεν διαβάζεται ανάλαφρα και επιφανειακά. Μεστή η γραφή του σε καθηλώνει αργά και σε προβληματίζει ή σε ταρακουναει σε κάθε πρόταση,λέξη-λέξη.
Η σπηλιά του τραγικά αλληγορική. Η υπόθεση απλή και καθημερινή. Πρωταγωνιστής ένας υπέροχος ιδιαίτερος άνθρωπος,ένας ηλικιωμένος κεραμοποιος που ζει με την κόρη και τον γαμπρό του σε ένα ταπεινό χωριατόσπιτο οικογενειακής κληρονομιάς όπως ακριβώς και το επάγγελμα του. Τρεις γενιές κεραμοποιών έζησαν εκεί και τώρα έρχεται ένα υπέρ-σύγχρονο εμπορικό "Κέντρο" να σπάσει τις παραδόσεις, να διαλύσει οικογένειες,να συνθλίψει τους θεσμούς και τα συναισθήματα,να καταστρέψει ολα τα συντεχνιακά επαγγέλματα στις γειτονιές του κόσμου.
Αυτό το μεγαθήριο αυτοαποκαλείται "θεός" και μπορεί να υποστηρίξει δυνατά και ακλόνητα τις αξίες του σύγχρονου πολιτισμού, της εικονικής πραγματικότητας, της αγοράς,της άνεσης, της βιομηχανικής αναπαραγωγής όντων και φυσικά την μοναδική αξία του κέρδους.
Έτσι ο τρυφερός και αξιοπρεπής κεραμοποιός μας έχοντας καταστραφεί επαγγελματικά και όχι μόνο, αναγκάζεται να ζήσει στο "Κέντρο" το οποίο τον δέχεται με την κόρη του μόνο και μόνο επειδή ο γαμπρός του ορίζεται ως φύλακας εκεί. Φύλακας- κατάσκοπος-καταδότης-δέσμιος- υπόδουλος ... μικρή σημασία έχει για την κοσμοθεωρία του παντοδύναμου "κέντρου".
Ολα τα υπόλοιπα θα τα καταλάβετε διαβάζοντας τη σπηλιά. Όταν θα νιώσετε πόνο και θλίψη για τα "Κέντρα" που μας καταπίνουν και αλλοιώνουν την συμβολική προσωπικότητα μας. Και φυσικά όταν θα νιώσετε πως πρέπει να απορριφθούν τα δεσμά,η αποδοχή, η παθητικότητα και η άγνοια.
Ίσως τότε μπορέσουμε να βγούμε στον ήλιο και να ρυθμίσουμε το πολίτευμα της ψυχής μας - όπως είπε και ο Πλατωνας στο μύθο του σπηλαίου.
* Λάτρεψα τον κεραμοποιό και την κόρη του για την αγάπη και τη φροντίδα με την οποια περιέθαλψαν ένα αδέσποτο σκυλάκι που τους χάρισε τη ζωή του.
Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς!!
Και τι περίεργοι φυλακισμένοι,
-Όμοιοι μ΄εμάς.
(Πλάτων, Πολιτεία, Βιβλίο Ζ΄)
Εκπληκτικό βιβλίο. Τοσο απλό και τοσο μοναδικό που μπορεί να χαρακτηριστεί σπουδαίο.
Η σπηλιά του Σαραμάγκου αρχαικη και συμβολική με αμέτρητο βάθος συναισθημάτων και εννοιών.
Αυτός ο "φιλόσοφος" συγγραφέας ειναι κυρίαρχος ερμηνευτής και τροφοδότης σκέψης σαν πάνσοφος ρήτορας γράφει και αναλύει χωρις να παρεμβαίνει στην κατανόηση και την ερμηνεία που δίνει ο αναγνωστης στα νοήματα του.
Μπες στη σπηλιά,σου λέει, κοίτα, σύγκρινε,αναλογίσου,θυμήσου, νιώσε αλλα κυρίως χρησιμοποίησε το μυαλό σου, αγνόησε τα αισθηματικά κριτήρια, προχωρά στην κοσμοθεωρία της αλήθειας και της αυτοβελτίωσης.
Σίγουρα δεν διαβάζεται ανάλαφρα και επιφανειακά. Μεστή η γραφή του σε καθηλώνει αργά και σε προβληματίζει ή σε ταρακουναει σε κάθε πρόταση,λέξη-λέξη.
Η σπηλιά του τραγικά αλληγορική. Η υπόθεση απλή και καθημερινή. Πρωταγωνιστής ένας υπέροχος ιδιαίτερος άνθρωπος,ένας ηλικιωμένος κεραμοποιος που ζει με την κόρη και τον γαμπρό του σε ένα ταπεινό χωριατόσπιτο οικογενειακής κληρονομιάς όπως ακριβώς και το επάγγελμα του. Τρεις γενιές κεραμοποιών έζησαν εκεί και τώρα έρχεται ένα υπέρ-σύγχρονο εμπορικό "Κέντρο" να σπάσει τις παραδόσεις, να διαλύσει οικογένειες,να συνθλίψει τους θεσμούς και τα συναισθήματα,να καταστρέψει ολα τα συντεχνιακά επαγγέλματα στις γειτονιές του κόσμου.
Αυτό το μεγαθήριο αυτοαποκαλείται "θεός" και μπορεί να υποστηρίξει δυνατά και ακλόνητα τις αξίες του σύγχρονου πολιτισμού, της εικονικής πραγματικότητας, της αγοράς,της άνεσης, της βιομηχανικής αναπαραγωγής όντων και φυσικά την μοναδική αξία του κέρδους.
Έτσι ο τρυφερός και αξιοπρεπής κεραμοποιός μας έχοντας καταστραφεί επαγγελματικά και όχι μόνο, αναγκάζεται να ζήσει στο "Κέντρο" το οποίο τον δέχεται με την κόρη του μόνο και μόνο επειδή ο γαμπρός του ορίζεται ως φύλακας εκεί. Φύλακας- κατάσκοπος-καταδότης-δέσμιος- υπόδουλος ... μικρή σημασία έχει για την κοσμοθεωρία του παντοδύναμου "κέντρου".
Ολα τα υπόλοιπα θα τα καταλάβετε διαβάζοντας τη σπηλιά. Όταν θα νιώσετε πόνο και θλίψη για τα "Κέντρα" που μας καταπίνουν και αλλοιώνουν την συμβολική προσωπικότητα μας. Και φυσικά όταν θα νιώσετε πως πρέπει να απορριφθούν τα δεσμά,η αποδοχή, η παθητικότητα και η άγνοια.
Ίσως τότε μπορέσουμε να βγούμε στον ήλιο και να ρυθμίσουμε το πολίτευμα της ψυχής μας - όπως είπε και ο Πλατωνας στο μύθο του σπηλαίου.
* Λάτρεψα τον κεραμοποιό και την κόρη του για την αγάπη και τη φροντίδα με την οποια περιέθαλψαν ένα αδέσποτο σκυλάκι που τους χάρισε τη ζωή του.
Καλή ανάγνωση.
Πολλούς ασπασμούς!!
May 31, 2022
Con este libro aprendemos a valorar la oportunidad de tener una profesión. Muy buen libro.
Para esta ocasión sí es importante contar la historia de cómo este libro llegó a mis manos. Era el año 2002, yo me encontraba en quinto de primaria, y mi hermana que me lleva seis años estaba cursando el último año de su vida estudiantil. Como ella siempre tuvo buena ortografía, y se expresaba bien oralmente, su colegio decidió enviarla a un concurso de ortografía de la ciudad, era la única de la localidad. Ella asistió, y sin expectativas ni presiones empezó a avanzar ronda tras ronda; pero, su momento de serenidad se acabó cuando quedaban menos de diez personas concursando, y a los organizadores se les ocurrió la idea de mencionar los premios: Una beca para el primer puesto, un computador para quien ocupara la segunda posición. Ella entonces se tensionó, pero siguió participando aunque ya con muchos nervios. No obstante, pudo clasificarse entre los mejores cinco, entre los cuatro, entre los tres... y justo cuando tenía la opción de mínimo asegurar el computador, en ese momento todo se fue al carajo porque se equivocó escribiendo una simple palabra: lasaña. Mi hermana siempre odió la pasta, pero desde ese día la odió mucho más. Por ende, finalizaría en tercer puesto, y su premio de consolación fue un libro de un señor llamado José Saramago, un libro llamado La caverna. Desde aquel 2002 ese libro permanece en mi casa, pero nadie lo había leído, mucho menos mi hermana que no lo quería ni ver porque le recordaba su fracaso. Sin embargo, el 31 de diciembre del 2021 estábamos realizando aseo en nuestra vivienda, mi madre encontró este libro en sus cajones, y yo lo vi, lo tomé, lo leí, y aquí me tienen escribiendo esta reseña. Quizás para mi hermana este libro siempre será un recordatorio de su derrota, pero gracias a ello yo he tenido la oportunidad de conocer una historia que me ha conmovido por sus tiernas escenas, y también por las que están llenas de preocupación y tristeza.
La caverna nos cuenta la historia de Cipriano Algor, un alfarero, que tiene un pequeño problemilla: Su trabajo ya no lo necesita nadie. Durante varias generaciones su familia ha trabajado con barro, creando vajillas y loza para vender, pero una nueva tecnología ha llegado para arruinarle la vida. Esa tecnología tiene nombre, esa tecnología es el plástico. El problema es que él ya está viejo, y lo único que sabe hacer para ganarse la vida es trabajar con el barro. ¿Qué hará entonces Cipriano y su familia para intentar sobrevivir? Esa es la interesante premisa que nos propone Saramago en este libro.
Para ser honesto este libro me ha producido muchísima nostalgia porque me hizo recordar aquellos momentos vividos, que en mi memoria siempre serán preciosos, pero que desafortunadamente son imposibles de que ocurran nuevamente. Por ejemplo recuerdo aquel parque en el que jugaba en mi infancia, pero que ahora está destruido; la caligrafía que tenía de niño pero de la que ya no se hallan huellas; aquellos compañeros a los cuales nunca les dije adiós pero desaparecieron para siempre; etc. Este libro es así. Saramago te va presentando la vida del alfarero, de su hija, y de su yerno, y empiezas a sentir esa opresión en el pecho llamada nostalgia porque entiendes que su destino está a punto de cambiar, y que todo lo construido por tantos años se va a echar a perder. Dicen que debemos adaptarnos al mundo, y es verdad, pero es muy doloroso dejar nuestro estilo de vida en el pasado cuando hemos tenido tan buenas experiencias. Saramago me conmovió con las preocupaciones de sus personajes, pero también me ha producido cierta ternura con algunas escenas que te intensifican el deseo de que aquellos personajes no tengan que alterar su vida para siempre.
Cuando leí El amor en los tiempos del cólera, de Gabriel García Márquez, hubo algo que me dejó muy pensativo: En aquellos tiempos del siglo XIX, aquí en Colombia se creía que el trabajo del futuro sería ser telégrafo. Un oficio que en su tiempo debió ser especial, pero que el paso del tiempo lo volvió obsoleto. Debe ser bastante triste que dediques toda tu vida a un trabajo, a una profesión, y que cuando estés viejo notes que lo que tú haces, en lo que gastaste tanto tiempo de tu vida, ya no le interesa a nadie: Esa es la nostalgia que tiene en el fondo de su corazón Cipriano, esa es la nostalgia que sentí en todo momento. Es duro aceptar la realidad.
Por mi experiencia previa de leer Las intermitencias de la muerte, en verdad no he tenido problemas con la prosa, a pesar de las peculiaridades que ya mencioné en dicha reseña, como lo son la dinámica de no usar guiones, hacer párrafos larguísimos, el uso anormal de los signos de puntuación, extensión de sus capítulos, etc. No obstante, por la cantidad de conversaciones que tienen los personajes creo que tampoco generaría problema para los nuevos lectores del autor portugués. Además, aquí por lo menos sí encontramos personajes con nombres, con personalidades muy definidas, y eso nos ayuda muchísimo a que leamos varias horas sin darnos cuenta. Eso sí, me ha parecido un poco cansina la mitad del libro. Como el argumento es bastante simple —siendo completamente objetivo— entonces la postergación de las decisiones puede aburrimos un poco, o eso por lo menos sentí yo. Sin embargo, vale la pena llegar a la parte final porque allí es donde el autor transmite su desagrado por las ciudades, por la forma como se mantiene «atontada» a la población, por los espacios pequeños, por la falta de contacto con la naturaleza, etc. Es una sección que puede hacer referencia a nuestro presente, pero también puede considerarse como una distopía.
Me ha parecido muy bonita la relación que tiene Cipriano con su hija, con el perro llamado Encontrado, y la pasión con la que trabaja en su oficio; claramente da a entender que en los pueblos los habitantes tienen mejor corazón que aquellos que viven atrapados en las ciudades, preocupados, tensos, con odio, encerrados en sí mismos, etc. Me parece genial como Saramago va usando su rol de narrador para contar la historia, pero a la vez disimuladamente va expresando sus propias opiniones sobre determinado tema como si fuera un ensayo, y no una obra literaria.
Lo que no me ha gustado es la relación de amor tan «inmediata» que se presenta. No soy nadie para hablar o criticar sobre el amor, teniendo en cuenta mi eterna soltería xd, pero me pareció exagerado que con un saludo prácticamente las personas ya se enamoraran profundamente. Un pequeño detalle que parece no ser importante, pero debemos ser honestos y expresar lo bueno, lo malo, lo extraño y lo feo de nuestras lecturas.
Considero que este libro vale la pena leer porque José Saramago presenta una madurez emocional, y una sabiduría muy profunda, que podría ayudarnos a crecer como seres humanos. Dicen que la experiencia es sabia, y José Saramago es un ejemplo de ello. Realmente he quedado muy antojado de leer más de sus obras, y por lo tanto mi próximo destino será sin ninguna duda su aclamado Ensayo sobre la ceguera, debo leerlo sí, o sí.
El final me ha parecido muy bello, aunque incierto.
En resumen, un libro escrito con una delicadeza impresionante, el cual te hace preguntarte de una manera simple, pero profunda, sobre diversos temas en los que quizás no solemos pensar diariamente. Una historia que vale la pena leer para ponernos en los zapatos de aquel que se ha quedado sin trabajo para siempre. Una historia que te obliga a pensar en la separación de cualquier núcleo familiar, incluso de las mascotas, que sufrimos con el paso inevitable del tiempo. Una historia que te hace ser consciente de lo hipnotizados que vivimos diariamente, y de la necesidad de desconectarnos para encontrarnos con nosotros mismos y nuestros seres queridos. Una historia que te señala la importancia de seguir buscando alternativas y salidas, así nuestro devenir parezca incierto y oscuro. Una historia que te demuestra la ingratitud de la sociedad, la cual se mantiene desechando con frialdad todo lo que no necesita, a pesar de la utilidad proporcionada en los años posteriores. Vivimos atrapados en un sistema maldito que no tiene orden ni futuro, pero de la misma forma como entramos a ser parte de él, también tenemos la posibilidad de escapar de él: Debemos pensar en alternativas para el futuro.
Libro especial, bonito y recomendado.
Para esta ocasión sí es importante contar la historia de cómo este libro llegó a mis manos. Era el año 2002, yo me encontraba en quinto de primaria, y mi hermana que me lleva seis años estaba cursando el último año de su vida estudiantil. Como ella siempre tuvo buena ortografía, y se expresaba bien oralmente, su colegio decidió enviarla a un concurso de ortografía de la ciudad, era la única de la localidad. Ella asistió, y sin expectativas ni presiones empezó a avanzar ronda tras ronda; pero, su momento de serenidad se acabó cuando quedaban menos de diez personas concursando, y a los organizadores se les ocurrió la idea de mencionar los premios: Una beca para el primer puesto, un computador para quien ocupara la segunda posición. Ella entonces se tensionó, pero siguió participando aunque ya con muchos nervios. No obstante, pudo clasificarse entre los mejores cinco, entre los cuatro, entre los tres... y justo cuando tenía la opción de mínimo asegurar el computador, en ese momento todo se fue al carajo porque se equivocó escribiendo una simple palabra: lasaña. Mi hermana siempre odió la pasta, pero desde ese día la odió mucho más. Por ende, finalizaría en tercer puesto, y su premio de consolación fue un libro de un señor llamado José Saramago, un libro llamado La caverna. Desde aquel 2002 ese libro permanece en mi casa, pero nadie lo había leído, mucho menos mi hermana que no lo quería ni ver porque le recordaba su fracaso. Sin embargo, el 31 de diciembre del 2021 estábamos realizando aseo en nuestra vivienda, mi madre encontró este libro en sus cajones, y yo lo vi, lo tomé, lo leí, y aquí me tienen escribiendo esta reseña. Quizás para mi hermana este libro siempre será un recordatorio de su derrota, pero gracias a ello yo he tenido la oportunidad de conocer una historia que me ha conmovido por sus tiernas escenas, y también por las que están llenas de preocupación y tristeza.
La caverna nos cuenta la historia de Cipriano Algor, un alfarero, que tiene un pequeño problemilla: Su trabajo ya no lo necesita nadie. Durante varias generaciones su familia ha trabajado con barro, creando vajillas y loza para vender, pero una nueva tecnología ha llegado para arruinarle la vida. Esa tecnología tiene nombre, esa tecnología es el plástico. El problema es que él ya está viejo, y lo único que sabe hacer para ganarse la vida es trabajar con el barro. ¿Qué hará entonces Cipriano y su familia para intentar sobrevivir? Esa es la interesante premisa que nos propone Saramago en este libro.
Para ser honesto este libro me ha producido muchísima nostalgia porque me hizo recordar aquellos momentos vividos, que en mi memoria siempre serán preciosos, pero que desafortunadamente son imposibles de que ocurran nuevamente. Por ejemplo recuerdo aquel parque en el que jugaba en mi infancia, pero que ahora está destruido; la caligrafía que tenía de niño pero de la que ya no se hallan huellas; aquellos compañeros a los cuales nunca les dije adiós pero desaparecieron para siempre; etc. Este libro es así. Saramago te va presentando la vida del alfarero, de su hija, y de su yerno, y empiezas a sentir esa opresión en el pecho llamada nostalgia porque entiendes que su destino está a punto de cambiar, y que todo lo construido por tantos años se va a echar a perder. Dicen que debemos adaptarnos al mundo, y es verdad, pero es muy doloroso dejar nuestro estilo de vida en el pasado cuando hemos tenido tan buenas experiencias. Saramago me conmovió con las preocupaciones de sus personajes, pero también me ha producido cierta ternura con algunas escenas que te intensifican el deseo de que aquellos personajes no tengan que alterar su vida para siempre.
Cuando leí El amor en los tiempos del cólera, de Gabriel García Márquez, hubo algo que me dejó muy pensativo: En aquellos tiempos del siglo XIX, aquí en Colombia se creía que el trabajo del futuro sería ser telégrafo. Un oficio que en su tiempo debió ser especial, pero que el paso del tiempo lo volvió obsoleto. Debe ser bastante triste que dediques toda tu vida a un trabajo, a una profesión, y que cuando estés viejo notes que lo que tú haces, en lo que gastaste tanto tiempo de tu vida, ya no le interesa a nadie: Esa es la nostalgia que tiene en el fondo de su corazón Cipriano, esa es la nostalgia que sentí en todo momento. Es duro aceptar la realidad.
Por mi experiencia previa de leer Las intermitencias de la muerte, en verdad no he tenido problemas con la prosa, a pesar de las peculiaridades que ya mencioné en dicha reseña, como lo son la dinámica de no usar guiones, hacer párrafos larguísimos, el uso anormal de los signos de puntuación, extensión de sus capítulos, etc. No obstante, por la cantidad de conversaciones que tienen los personajes creo que tampoco generaría problema para los nuevos lectores del autor portugués. Además, aquí por lo menos sí encontramos personajes con nombres, con personalidades muy definidas, y eso nos ayuda muchísimo a que leamos varias horas sin darnos cuenta. Eso sí, me ha parecido un poco cansina la mitad del libro. Como el argumento es bastante simple —siendo completamente objetivo— entonces la postergación de las decisiones puede aburrimos un poco, o eso por lo menos sentí yo. Sin embargo, vale la pena llegar a la parte final porque allí es donde el autor transmite su desagrado por las ciudades, por la forma como se mantiene «atontada» a la población, por los espacios pequeños, por la falta de contacto con la naturaleza, etc. Es una sección que puede hacer referencia a nuestro presente, pero también puede considerarse como una distopía.
Me ha parecido muy bonita la relación que tiene Cipriano con su hija, con el perro llamado Encontrado, y la pasión con la que trabaja en su oficio; claramente da a entender que en los pueblos los habitantes tienen mejor corazón que aquellos que viven atrapados en las ciudades, preocupados, tensos, con odio, encerrados en sí mismos, etc. Me parece genial como Saramago va usando su rol de narrador para contar la historia, pero a la vez disimuladamente va expresando sus propias opiniones sobre determinado tema como si fuera un ensayo, y no una obra literaria.
Lo que no me ha gustado es la relación de amor tan «inmediata» que se presenta. No soy nadie para hablar o criticar sobre el amor, teniendo en cuenta mi eterna soltería xd, pero me pareció exagerado que con un saludo prácticamente las personas ya se enamoraran profundamente. Un pequeño detalle que parece no ser importante, pero debemos ser honestos y expresar lo bueno, lo malo, lo extraño y lo feo de nuestras lecturas.
Considero que este libro vale la pena leer porque José Saramago presenta una madurez emocional, y una sabiduría muy profunda, que podría ayudarnos a crecer como seres humanos. Dicen que la experiencia es sabia, y José Saramago es un ejemplo de ello. Realmente he quedado muy antojado de leer más de sus obras, y por lo tanto mi próximo destino será sin ninguna duda su aclamado Ensayo sobre la ceguera, debo leerlo sí, o sí.
El final me ha parecido muy bello, aunque incierto.
En resumen, un libro escrito con una delicadeza impresionante, el cual te hace preguntarte de una manera simple, pero profunda, sobre diversos temas en los que quizás no solemos pensar diariamente. Una historia que vale la pena leer para ponernos en los zapatos de aquel que se ha quedado sin trabajo para siempre. Una historia que te obliga a pensar en la separación de cualquier núcleo familiar, incluso de las mascotas, que sufrimos con el paso inevitable del tiempo. Una historia que te hace ser consciente de lo hipnotizados que vivimos diariamente, y de la necesidad de desconectarnos para encontrarnos con nosotros mismos y nuestros seres queridos. Una historia que te señala la importancia de seguir buscando alternativas y salidas, así nuestro devenir parezca incierto y oscuro. Una historia que te demuestra la ingratitud de la sociedad, la cual se mantiene desechando con frialdad todo lo que no necesita, a pesar de la utilidad proporcionada en los años posteriores. Vivimos atrapados en un sistema maldito que no tiene orden ni futuro, pero de la misma forma como entramos a ser parte de él, también tenemos la posibilidad de escapar de él: Debemos pensar en alternativas para el futuro.
Libro especial, bonito y recomendado.
February 11, 2016
هناك من يقضي حياته كلها في القراءة دون أن يمضي إلى ما هو أبعد من القراءة، هؤلاء يبقون ملتصقين بالصفحات، لا يدركون أن الكلمات ليست سوى أحجار مصفوفة تعترض تيار النهر، وإذا كانت هناك فإنها موجودة لكي تتمكن من الوصول إلى الضفة الأخرى، الضفة الأخرى هي المهمة.
الكهف؛ وعلى الرغم أن الرواية تبدأ باقتباس من جمهورية أفلاطون إلا أنه لن يعود للحديث عن أمثولة الكهف عند أفلاطون إلا في نهاية الرواية وفي صفحات قليلة جدًا.
وعلى مدار صفحات الرواية سيتحدث سارماجو عن أسرة صغيرة لأب وابنته وزوجها، يعيشان معًا.
تفاصيل حياة أسرة عادية جدًا ليس بها شيء مبهر أو غير عادي اللهم فقدان الأب لعمله، وعلى هذا سيبدأ سارماجو طريقته البديعة في سرد أحداث الرواية وهي قليلة على كل حال، وهذا ��و المُبهر والعبقري في الرواية!
أن ينسج من حكاية عادية للغاية وأحداث قليلة تفاصيل تملأ 470 صفحة
ليست أية تفاصيل، بل تفاصيل تستمتع بقرائتها وتقفز على السطور كي تقرأها جميعًا.
ولم يكن ذلك ممكنًا لو لم يكن الكاتب هو سارماجو، بطريقته المميزة للغاية في السرد، في قراءة أفكار أبطاله وتحليلها والحديث عنها –ليس كراوي- بل كمعلق رياضي لا يكتفي بالسرد بل يقوم بالشرح والتعليق، التبرير للأبطال حينًا وإضافة تعليقاته الساخرة حينًا آخر.
كيف هي مارتا؟ سيسأل هو، متعبة ولكنها على ما يرام؛ سأجيب أنا، وهذه كلمات نقولها باستمرار أيضًا ولست استغرب أننا حين ننتقل من هذا العالم إلى العالم الآخر سنواصل إيجاد القوة لنرد على من تخطر له الفكرة الحمقاء بسؤالنا كيف حالنا، ميتون ولكننا على ما يرام، هذا ما سنقوله
والممتع في هذه التفاصيل ليس فقط الطريقة التي يقوم بها سارماجو بسردها بل في نوعية التفاصيل ذاتها، التفاصيل التي تغوص عميقًا في نفس ودوافع الأبطال وهو ما ذكرني ها هنا بدوستويفسكي على كل حال والفارق بينهما أنني كنت اقرأها في روايات دوستويفسكي وكأنني اقرأها في كتاب وأنها نظريات تقريرية عليّ التسليم بها..
أما حين تقرأ تحليلات سارماجو لتصرفات أبطاله ودوافعهم المسببة لها بتلك الطريقة التي تشعر معها أنه ليس محلل نفسي أو غيره، هو فقط ينظر للكلمات والإيماءات والحركات وربما الأفكار التي تدور في الرأس بعين ثاقبة ويفكر فيها بطريقة تجعلك تشترك معه وكأنه يفكر بصوت عالِ
الجميل أن هذه التحليلات دائمًا ما تنتهي بجمل سارماجو الفلسفية، وهو في رأيي ما تستحق الرواية أن يُطلق عليها رواية فلسفية لأجله وليس لنظرية الكهف عند أفلاطون التي تناولها سارماجو في النهاية وجعل منها اسم روايته.
ليس لأنه تناولها في جزء صغير في نهاية الرواية، لكن لأنني لم أستطع بالمرة إسقاطها على أبطال وأحداث الرواية أو محاولة فهم الإسقاط من الأساس!
هذه القراءة الخامسة لسارماجو؛ بعد الذكريات الصغيرة، انقطاعات الموت، العمى، البصيرة وهذه الروايات الثلاثة الأخيرة تشترك في أفكارها المبهرة وتفاصيلها المملة فكنت استكملها بصعوبة بالغة وأنهيها ببطء شديد فقط لعبقرية الفكرة.
وهو ما حدث عكسه في رواية الكهف، يبدو أن سارماجو رأي أنه طالما فكرة هذه الرواية عادية وليس بها شيء غير مألوف فليعوضنا بتفاصيل ممتعة وهو ما جعلني أقفز على السطور وأنهي مئة صفحة أو يزيد في جلسة واحدة، حتى أنني كنت أتساءل؛ هل أنا بالفعل اقرأ لسارماجو أم لأحد غيره؟ وهل تغيرت كثيرًا في فترة انقطاعي عن رواياته فأصبحت استمتع بطريقته وتفاصيله بعد أن كانت تصيبني بالملل في السابق؟
تمّت
May 13, 2023
“قلبي في صدري أسيرٌ سجين
“ الحقيقة أننا إذا ما مزجنا الماء بالصلصال أو الماء بالجبس أو الماء بالأسمنت فإننا نستطيع أن نقلب مخيلتنا مثلما نشاء من أجل اختراع تسمية لها أقل فظاظة .. أقل ابتذالا .. أقل عادية .. و لكننا سننتهي دوما آجلا أو عاجلا إلى الوصول إلى الكلمة الدقيقة. الكلمة التي تقول ما يتوجب قوله.: طين. آلهة كثيرون ممن هم معروفون أكثر من غيرهم لم يرغبوا في أية مادة أخرى من أجل مخلوقاتهم. و لكن من المشكوك فيه إذا ما كان ذلك التفضيل يمثل اليوم نقطة لصالح الطين أم نقطة ضده. ”
تُخجلهُ عشرةُ ماءٍ وطين
وكم جرى عزمي بتحطيمه
فكانَ يَنهاني نداءُ اليقين”
من رباعيات عمر الخيام
“هناك من يقضي حياته كلها في القراءة دون أن يمضي لما هو أبعد من ذلك. هؤلاء يبقون ملتصقين بالصفحات لا يدركون أن الكلمات ليست سوى أحجار مصفوفة تعترض تيار النهر. و إذا كانت هناك فإنها موجودة لكي نتمكن من عبور الضفة الأخرى. الضفة الأخرى هي المهمة. إلا إذا لم تكن لهذه الأنهار ضفتان و إنما ضفاف كثيرة. و كل شخص يقرأ تكون تلك هي ضفته الخاصة. و تكون له و له وحده الضفة التي سيصل إليها.صرخة يطلقها ساراماجو في وجه المدنية الحديثة بكل زيفها
و لحسن الحظ أن الكتب موجودة و يمكن لنا أن ننساها في خزانة أو صندوق أو نتركها للغبار و العثة أو نهجرها في عتمة الأقبية. يمكن لنا ألا نمر عليها بعيوننا و لا نمسها لسنوات و سنوات و لكنها لا تهتم بذلك كله و تنتظر بهدوء منطبقة على نفسها كيلا يضيع شيء مما تحتويه في داخلها. و دوما تأتي اللحظة. يأتي هذا اليوم الذي نتساءل فيه. أين هو ذلك الكتاب؟ و يظهر أخيرا الكتاب المطلوب.”
عن الخالق الأصغر صانع الخزف من الطين و الصلصال تماما مثل خالقه باستثناء نفخ الروح
في عهد أصبح فيه الخزف و الفخار موضة قديمة
نحن يا سادة من أصبحنا موضة قديمة فما نحن إلا هذا الطين الذي التهب بنار الفرن اللافح ثم خرج ليواجه الحياة
عن الحياة في المركز مقرنين في الأصفاد تغشى وجوهنا نار العولمة و لهب المادية و سادية الروتين و البروقراطية.
لا ينتصر ساراماجو لأي اتجاه في النهاية بعد أن ترك الماء يجري في كلا الاتجاهين الا أن أيام الماضي تبقى لتحيا في الماضي و ايام المستقبل تظل حبلى بالتكهنات.
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August 14, 2013
‘It is not only great works of art that are born out of suffering and doubt.’
Do we allow ourselves to be tricked into substituting simple pleasures and convenience for authentic reality? Do we willingly allow ourselves to be submissive pawns in a game of corporate and political control? Nobel Laureate José Saramago’s The Cave is an enlightening examination of Plato’s allegory of the cave as he depicts a natural world shrinking away as the cheap, plastic reign of a compartmentalized authoritative control casts its shadow across the land. The Cave chronicles the struggles and strife of the kind hearted Algor family, who find themselves in a difficult place when the powerful capital city The Center ceases purchasing their hand-crafted pottery, choosing instead to stock their shelves with plastic dining sets that are cheaper to mass produce, and are bound by a contract forbidding any dealer to the Center, past or present, from selling to anyone else. Saramago harnesses his marvelous poetic wit to make the readers hearts ache for the Algor family, and the plight of manual laborers as their livelihood is threatened by ominous forces that place profit and power over quality and general well-being. The political climate in The Cave creates a perfect breeding ground for a discussion of Plato’s Forms, with Saramago focusing his sights everywhere from plastic plates, police states, and language in order to examine the way we trade the authentic for cheap imitations and replicas.
All of Saramago’s classic motifs are immediately recognizable in The Cave, such as obdurate authoritative forces chasing the common man out of the light; menacing capital cities operating through an elaborate, yet faulty, chain of command; musings on the nature of a Creator; and his brilliant, signature style of blending dialogue into his dense paragraphs of meandering prose. For the uninitiated, Saramago doesn’t break up dialogue in the traditional sense, but instead allows multiple voices to blend into one continuous stream separated only by commas and a capitalized first letter to denote a new speaker. This reinforces his perspective that his stories aren’t of the individual, but of the collective voices and hearts of all humanity, inseparable from the natural world around them. His books are the voice of existence, flowing and unscarred by the borders of ego, asking us to seek freedom and happiness in collective equality and cooperation instead of a competition where those who have assert their dominance through force and fear. The Center becomes the focal point for his admonition against authoritarianism. It is like a grey concrete tumor of commercialism swelling outward and destroying the green countryside, accumulating power and wealth as it tightens its grip of authority and dominerence over the rural manual laborers. Saramago mocks the bureaucratic structure of The Center, viewing it as an unnecessarily complex web that is self-sufficient only by imposing its own authority down through the ranks.
Plato used his allegory of the cave to further illustrate his concept of Forms, roughly speaking, a theory to address the problem of universals by asserting that Forms are the quality of reality, and that phenomena are shadowy interpretations of Form. Forms are atemporal and aspatial, but had distinct, individual qualities that are perceived in multiple ways when represented by objects. The cave allegory consists of people chained to the floor and forced to spend their lives watching shadows flicker across the back wall of the cave. They would perceive the shadows as reality and give names to them, when in fact they were just reproductions of the true reality. Saramago expertly meshes his admonitory themes of authoritarian force with Plato’s Forms to argue that we are becoming like the prisoners of the cave, trading the authentic for imitations. Saramago’s defense of manual laborers asserts that hand-crafted work born from sweat and blood is authentic and that the plastic, cheap mass produced plates are like shadows on the wall of a cave.
Saramago is a lover of words, and the heart of the marvelous allegorical clockwork of this novel is his examination of words and their relation to the world around us. ‘Words were born to play with each other,’ he writes, ‘they don’t know how to do anything else.’ In a manner reminiscent of both Jacques Derrida (of whom Saramago was associated with several times through both men’s activist actions), and Jorge Luis Borges (Saramago’s books are littered with allusions to the great author), Saramago explores the way words are merely shadows on the wall of reality. ‘Words, for example, which are not things, which merely designate things as best they can, and in doing so shape them…’ Saramago offers that the world of physical reality is experienced by putting our perceptions into words, but words are not the same tangible reality, and we must accept that they can only form imperfect representations regardless of how poetic and poignantly words can play with one another. While language is shown as another replica of Forms, it is through language that the mind can find a haven—language is the bridge through which we can glimpse true reality and meaning. By arranging words together into the magic of literature, we are able to point towards a deeper understanding and dig up the buried treasure of substantial meaning. Some read for pure enjoyment, some for escape, others to appreciate the aesthetics of linguistics organized onto a page like a painting on a canvas, and while each individual reader may take a different path through words, we all travel this path because it offers us a taste of our own personal heaven and a glimpse at overwhelming beauty.
One of the many aspects that continuously pull me back into Saramago’s enchanting pages is his loving attentiveness to words and the reader. Saramago approaches his story as if it were a living thing independent from himself, being both the narrator delivering the story, but also an observer and participant much like the reader themselves. In a manner much like Macedonio Fernández, Saramago questions the motives of his characters, chastises them for their actions, and presents them as if they were writing themselves into his pages. ‘If this demonstrably ill-natured assistant head of department were to have any kind of future in the story we have been following, we would probably eventually get around to asking him to explain what lay behind his feelings on that occasion…’ This helps to build a camaraderie and mutual respect with the reader as you feel he is sharing the journey along with you. I greatly enjoy his authorial interjections, a tactic that often bothers me with other authors but seems completely endearing with Saramago. He gives off such an innocent joy to be an integral part to the creation of a story and just can’t contain his excitement when he blurts out his commentary on the characters and story. Reading Saramago is akin to having a wise, caring grandfather rocking you to sleep in his arms while bestowing the secrets of the universe to you in an engaging bedtime tale. Many of the novels shortcomings are easily glossed over because the reader is so captivated by his soothing narrative voice. This novel occasionally dips dangerously close to oversentimentality and often feels a uneven, yet chastising it beyond mere mention seems malicious. It would be like insulting your own loving grandfather for his bedtime stories, which you know please him to tell as much as they please you to hear. Saramago’s narrative voice is comforting while still cutting to the core of matters with a razor sharp edge.
Despite the growing tumor of consumerism and authoritarianism, The Cave offers a bright beacon of hope. Ciprano Algor and his family bond together to create a new product, a line of clay figurines (his selection of figurines speaks volumes about the human race and our attraction to warfare and power, but I’ve blabbed on long enough and shouldn’t spoil the discovery for future readers), to sell to The Center. The creation process in the kiln opens up a channel for Saramago to examine the role of a Creator, and he openly chastises any Creator that would knowingly damn their creations.
While The Cave is a wonderful allegory exploring Plato’s philosophy and the nature of language, it is not best suited as an introduction to Saramago. This book is best viewed as another glowing intersection for the themes that characterize Saramago’s fantastic oeuvre and would fall short without interpreting it through its interplay with his other novels. The book is creeps forward at a very leisurely pace, content to build its themes in authorial asides and intense investigations of mundane actions, which made it easy to set aside whereas other Saramago novels were impossible for me to put down once I'd been hooked. The Cave is a novel about exploring language and Form, not plot, and if you are patient there is an immense wealth of ideas to ponder and mull over that more than justify the effort. It is not a weak novel, but one simply best suited for those that already hold the wise Saramago as dear in their hearts. Of all his novels, this one shines as the most endearing as the way he presents the Algor family can be best described as a tender caress of words. Moving and heartfelt, yet slow and ponderous, Saramago brilliantly examines the way we trade the authentic for cheap imitation and begs us to not to be bound to the floor of a cave by consumerism and a willful submission to authority, but to be daring enough to step out from the cave and great the bright sun of our existence with open arms, an open mind, and goodwill towards all of mankind.
3.5/5
'[B]ut if ancient knowledge serves for anything, if it can still be of some use to modern ignorance, let us say softly, so that people don't laugh at us, that while there's life, there's hope.'
Do we allow ourselves to be tricked into substituting simple pleasures and convenience for authentic reality? Do we willingly allow ourselves to be submissive pawns in a game of corporate and political control? Nobel Laureate José Saramago’s The Cave is an enlightening examination of Plato’s allegory of the cave as he depicts a natural world shrinking away as the cheap, plastic reign of a compartmentalized authoritative control casts its shadow across the land. The Cave chronicles the struggles and strife of the kind hearted Algor family, who find themselves in a difficult place when the powerful capital city The Center ceases purchasing their hand-crafted pottery, choosing instead to stock their shelves with plastic dining sets that are cheaper to mass produce, and are bound by a contract forbidding any dealer to the Center, past or present, from selling to anyone else. Saramago harnesses his marvelous poetic wit to make the readers hearts ache for the Algor family, and the plight of manual laborers as their livelihood is threatened by ominous forces that place profit and power over quality and general well-being. The political climate in The Cave creates a perfect breeding ground for a discussion of Plato’s Forms, with Saramago focusing his sights everywhere from plastic plates, police states, and language in order to examine the way we trade the authentic for cheap imitations and replicas.
All of Saramago’s classic motifs are immediately recognizable in The Cave, such as obdurate authoritative forces chasing the common man out of the light; menacing capital cities operating through an elaborate, yet faulty, chain of command; musings on the nature of a Creator; and his brilliant, signature style of blending dialogue into his dense paragraphs of meandering prose. For the uninitiated, Saramago doesn’t break up dialogue in the traditional sense, but instead allows multiple voices to blend into one continuous stream separated only by commas and a capitalized first letter to denote a new speaker. This reinforces his perspective that his stories aren’t of the individual, but of the collective voices and hearts of all humanity, inseparable from the natural world around them. His books are the voice of existence, flowing and unscarred by the borders of ego, asking us to seek freedom and happiness in collective equality and cooperation instead of a competition where those who have assert their dominance through force and fear. The Center becomes the focal point for his admonition against authoritarianism. It is like a grey concrete tumor of commercialism swelling outward and destroying the green countryside, accumulating power and wealth as it tightens its grip of authority and dominerence over the rural manual laborers. Saramago mocks the bureaucratic structure of The Center, viewing it as an unnecessarily complex web that is self-sufficient only by imposing its own authority down through the ranks.
…his position on the Center’s organization chart reminded him that the whole definition and maintenance of hierarchical configurations is based on their being scrupulously respected and never contravened or transgressed, and, of course, the inevitable result of being too free and easy with one’s inferiors or subalterns is to undermine respect and to encourage license, or, to put it more explicitly and unambiguously, it all ends in insubordination, indiscipline and anarchy
Plato used his allegory of the cave to further illustrate his concept of Forms, roughly speaking, a theory to address the problem of universals by asserting that Forms are the quality of reality, and that phenomena are shadowy interpretations of Form. Forms are atemporal and aspatial, but had distinct, individual qualities that are perceived in multiple ways when represented by objects. The cave allegory consists of people chained to the floor and forced to spend their lives watching shadows flicker across the back wall of the cave. They would perceive the shadows as reality and give names to them, when in fact they were just reproductions of the true reality. Saramago expertly meshes his admonitory themes of authoritarian force with Plato’s Forms to argue that we are becoming like the prisoners of the cave, trading the authentic for imitations. Saramago’s defense of manual laborers asserts that hand-crafted work born from sweat and blood is authentic and that the plastic, cheap mass produced plates are like shadows on the wall of a cave.
The ominous sight of those chimneys vomiting out columns of smoke makde him wonder which one of those hideous factories would be producing those hideous plastic lies, cunningly fashioned to look like earthenware.The Center and it’s hub of consumerism is the reproduction of authentic living. People are compartmentalized into tiny apartments away from the sun, living shallow lives that are dictated to them by the endless list of Center laws and experience the natural world through sideshow attractions—such as a ride that simulates each of the seasons and drops fake rain and snow onto the visitors—that are reminiscent of George Saunders’ short fiction. Even power is seen as only assumed and created, keeping people submissive through emotions of fear and hopelessness. The Center offers safety from the dangers of rural life, making a large show of the way they fight back against the shantytowns that rob trucks en route to The Center. It may be possible, however, that the robberies are staged to simply give The Center a reasonable motive to send in the troops and further build a sense of security and fear.
The truck had not been burned by the people in the shacks, but by the police themselves, it was just an excuse to bring the army…he had suddenly seen what the world was like, how there are many lies and no truths, well, there must be some out there, but they are continually changing, and not only does a possible truth give us insufficient time to consider its merits, we also have to check first that this possible truth is not, in fact, a probable lie.
Saramago is a lover of words, and the heart of the marvelous allegorical clockwork of this novel is his examination of words and their relation to the world around us. ‘Words were born to play with each other,’ he writes, ‘they don’t know how to do anything else.’ In a manner reminiscent of both Jacques Derrida (of whom Saramago was associated with several times through both men’s activist actions), and Jorge Luis Borges (Saramago’s books are littered with allusions to the great author), Saramago explores the way words are merely shadows on the wall of reality. ‘Words, for example, which are not things, which merely designate things as best they can, and in doing so shape them…’ Saramago offers that the world of physical reality is experienced by putting our perceptions into words, but words are not the same tangible reality, and we must accept that they can only form imperfect representations regardless of how poetic and poignantly words can play with one another. While language is shown as another replica of Forms, it is through language that the mind can find a haven—language is the bridge through which we can glimpse true reality and meaning. By arranging words together into the magic of literature, we are able to point towards a deeper understanding and dig up the buried treasure of substantial meaning. Some read for pure enjoyment, some for escape, others to appreciate the aesthetics of linguistics organized onto a page like a painting on a canvas, and while each individual reader may take a different path through words, we all travel this path because it offers us a taste of our own personal heaven and a glimpse at overwhelming beauty.
The same method doesn't work for everyone, each person has to invent his or her own, whichever suits them best, some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don't understand that the words are merely stepping stones placed across a fast-flowing river, and the reason they're there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it's the other side that matters, Unless, Unless what, Unless those rivers don't have just two shores but many, unless each reader is his or her own shore, and that shore is the only shore worth reaching.Saramago hints at the true beauty of literature and how one idea can be interpreted in multiple ways, each shaping or reaffirming what we hold most dear in our hearts. Words may only take meaning in the way they interplay with one another, but it is through a careful consideration of words that we are able to deduce a fountain of wealth that flows through the author. ‘What you call playing with words is just a way of making them more visible.’
One of the many aspects that continuously pull me back into Saramago’s enchanting pages is his loving attentiveness to words and the reader. Saramago approaches his story as if it were a living thing independent from himself, being both the narrator delivering the story, but also an observer and participant much like the reader themselves. In a manner much like Macedonio Fernández, Saramago questions the motives of his characters, chastises them for their actions, and presents them as if they were writing themselves into his pages. ‘If this demonstrably ill-natured assistant head of department were to have any kind of future in the story we have been following, we would probably eventually get around to asking him to explain what lay behind his feelings on that occasion…’ This helps to build a camaraderie and mutual respect with the reader as you feel he is sharing the journey along with you. I greatly enjoy his authorial interjections, a tactic that often bothers me with other authors but seems completely endearing with Saramago. He gives off such an innocent joy to be an integral part to the creation of a story and just can’t contain his excitement when he blurts out his commentary on the characters and story. Reading Saramago is akin to having a wise, caring grandfather rocking you to sleep in his arms while bestowing the secrets of the universe to you in an engaging bedtime tale. Many of the novels shortcomings are easily glossed over because the reader is so captivated by his soothing narrative voice. This novel occasionally dips dangerously close to oversentimentality and often feels a uneven, yet chastising it beyond mere mention seems malicious. It would be like insulting your own loving grandfather for his bedtime stories, which you know please him to tell as much as they please you to hear. Saramago’s narrative voice is comforting while still cutting to the core of matters with a razor sharp edge.
Despite the growing tumor of consumerism and authoritarianism, The Cave offers a bright beacon of hope. Ciprano Algor and his family bond together to create a new product, a line of clay figurines (his selection of figurines speaks volumes about the human race and our attraction to warfare and power, but I’ve blabbed on long enough and shouldn’t spoil the discovery for future readers), to sell to The Center. The creation process in the kiln opens up a channel for Saramago to examine the role of a Creator, and he openly chastises any Creator that would knowingly damn their creations.
He will not, like Marta, call them rejects, for to do so would be to drive them from the world for which they had been born, to deny them as his own work and thus condemn them to a final, definitive orphanhood.Through caring, understanding, cooperation and hard-work, Saramago proposes a bright future. The son-in-law, Marcal, employee of The Center, finds his true purpose lies as a member of a family, a part of natural order as opposed to his imitation family as an employee to a company. At the end, we see that we must strive for the real instead imitation despite that the latter seems to be the easier way.
While The Cave is a wonderful allegory exploring Plato’s philosophy and the nature of language, it is not best suited as an introduction to Saramago. This book is best viewed as another glowing intersection for the themes that characterize Saramago’s fantastic oeuvre and would fall short without interpreting it through its interplay with his other novels. The book is creeps forward at a very leisurely pace, content to build its themes in authorial asides and intense investigations of mundane actions, which made it easy to set aside whereas other Saramago novels were impossible for me to put down once I'd been hooked. The Cave is a novel about exploring language and Form, not plot, and if you are patient there is an immense wealth of ideas to ponder and mull over that more than justify the effort. It is not a weak novel, but one simply best suited for those that already hold the wise Saramago as dear in their hearts. Of all his novels, this one shines as the most endearing as the way he presents the Algor family can be best described as a tender caress of words. Moving and heartfelt, yet slow and ponderous, Saramago brilliantly examines the way we trade the authentic for cheap imitation and begs us to not to be bound to the floor of a cave by consumerism and a willful submission to authority, but to be daring enough to step out from the cave and great the bright sun of our existence with open arms, an open mind, and goodwill towards all of mankind.
3.5/5
'[B]ut if ancient knowledge serves for anything, if it can still be of some use to modern ignorance, let us say softly, so that people don't laugh at us, that while there's life, there's hope.'
June 7, 2022
لم أعتقد أنه بعد سنواتي الثلاث بعد الثلاثين، وقراءاتي للعديد من الأعمال الادبية الشهيرة بإثارة العواطف، وبالأخص بعد التجربة القريبة زمنياً لفقدان عزيز أن هناك عمل أدبي قادر على إثارة الشجن والحزن لدرجة أن أكون على وشك أن تدمع عيناي.
والغريب ان من فعلها هو ساراماجو - كاتبي المفضل - الذي طالما استمتعت بأعماله بعقلي, وفي أحيان كثيرة كان حبي لأبطاله وتعاطفي معهم ومع الحالة العامة من الشجن والحزن التي تحيط بهم يأتي في مرحلة متأخرة بعد إنبهاري واستمتاعي بشكل رواياته وأسلوبه.
ولكن هذه المرة أجد نفسي متعاطفاً مع أبطال العمل جميعاً حتى الكلب "لقية" بل حتى مع زوجة اللص المتوقع في الفصل الأول. هذه الرواية بدون منازع أفضل عمل عبر - بجانب أشياء أخرى - عن فظاعة الفقدان وعن جبروت "التقدم".
يضاف لما سبق توجهي الشخصي وأفكاري التي تميل نحو كراهية كل ما هو ضخم ومصطنع, كل ما يمثل قيد على حرية الفرد في الإختيار. الصورة التي تتبادر إلى ذهني الآن مع كتابة مراجعتي هي قرية الفصل الأخير في فيلم كوروساوا الشهير "أحلام" ... يا ليت عائلة "الجور" تصل إلى هناك.
عودة لساراماجو وأسلوبه وعلى غير العادة ودون أن يؤثر ذلك على إعجابي بالرواية فأنني وجدت صعوبة أحياناً في متابعة الحوار خاصة عندما يكون ثلاثي - بعض الأخطاء في مكان الحرف "البولد" أربكتني زيادة وعندما غابت في أحد الفصول قرب النهاية لم أفتقدها- أيضاً شعرت بملل في إستطرادات ساراماجو اللغوية والفنية. قد يكون مرجع ذلك أن الرواية في معظمها - وما عدا بعض التفاصيل حول المركز - واقعية بإمتياز فيكون للإندماج أولوية على الأبعاد اللغوية والفنية.
لا أحب أن أنسى في النهاية دور مدير المشتريات ونائبيه وبخاصة "الودود" منهما الذي عبر ببساطة وبشكل تام الوضوح عن عقلية حكام العالم الحقيقيين المسئولين عما يشعر به أمثالي من بؤس كوننا نعيش هذا العصر.
والغريب ان من فعلها هو ساراماجو - كاتبي المفضل - الذي طالما استمتعت بأعماله بعقلي, وفي أحيان كثيرة كان حبي لأبطاله وتعاطفي معهم ومع الحالة العامة من الشجن والحزن التي تحيط بهم يأتي في مرحلة متأخرة بعد إنبهاري واستمتاعي بشكل رواياته وأسلوبه.
ولكن هذه المرة أجد نفسي متعاطفاً مع أبطال العمل جميعاً حتى الكلب "لقية" بل حتى مع زوجة اللص المتوقع في الفصل الأول. هذه الرواية بدون منازع أفضل عمل عبر - بجانب أشياء أخرى - عن فظاعة الفقدان وعن جبروت "التقدم".
يضاف لما سبق توجهي الشخصي وأفكاري التي تميل نحو كراهية كل ما هو ضخم ومصطنع, كل ما يمثل قيد على حرية الفرد في الإختيار. الصورة التي تتبادر إلى ذهني الآن مع كتابة مراجعتي هي قرية الفصل الأخير في فيلم كوروساوا الشهير "أحلام" ... يا ليت عائلة "الجور" تصل إلى هناك.
عودة لساراماجو وأسلوبه وعلى غير العادة ودون أن يؤثر ذلك على إعجابي بالرواية فأنني وجدت صعوبة أحياناً في متابعة الحوار خاصة عندما يكون ثلاثي - بعض الأخطاء في مكان الحرف "البولد" أربكتني زيادة وعندما غابت في أحد الفصول قرب النهاية لم أفتقدها- أيضاً شعرت بملل في إستطرادات ساراماجو اللغوية والفنية. قد يكون مرجع ذلك أن الرواية في معظمها - وما عدا بعض التفاصيل حول المركز - واقعية بإمتياز فيكون للإندماج أولوية على الأبعاد اللغوية والفنية.
لا أحب أن أنسى في النهاية دور مدير المشتريات ونائبيه وبخاصة "الودود" منهما الذي عبر ببساطة وبشكل تام الوضوح عن عقلية حكام العالم الحقيقيين المسئولين عما يشعر به أمثالي من بؤس كوننا نعيش هذا العصر.
October 21, 2021
O altă lucrare genială marca Saramago
Cipriano Algor este un olar de vârsta a treia care locuiește împreună cu fiica sa, Marta, căsătorită cu Marcal Gacho, gardian într-un centru comercial.
Momentul în care romanul descrie viețile lor este unul de cumpănă, al unor decizii majore.
Mitul peșterii lui Platon, rescris și reinterpretat de Saramago în cel mai neașteptat mod cu putință, va fi cheia interpretării romanului.
Cipriano Algor este un olar de vârsta a treia care locuiește împreună cu fiica sa, Marta, căsătorită cu Marcal Gacho, gardian într-un centru comercial.
Momentul în care romanul descrie viețile lor este unul de cumpănă, al unor decizii majore.
Mitul peșterii lui Platon, rescris și reinterpretat de Saramago în cel mai neașteptat mod cu putință, va fi cheia interpretării romanului.
December 17, 2015
The reading of some novels feels like streaming down a fast river, with the story pushing your slim canoe along the waters. The unfolding of the plot as it presents and avoids the obstacles provides the seductive excitement. Driven by curiosity, reading the river engulfs you with its roll. This is not so with Saramago’s The Cave. Instead this novel offers a slow glide along the peaceful waters of a lake of nostalgia and wonder.
For with its simple story and during the measured drift in a simple boat there are inviting echoes from Biblical times that will make you lift the oars and ponder. For clay it was and clay it will be. And as you pause and look around in the open air and open waters, the novel will invite your understanding to a full spectacle in which there will be no shadows, no illusions, no screens, no chains. It offers a possible escape from Plato’s Cave.
What induces this state of placid and rescuing alert is the quality of Saramago’s lake. His flowing prose with continuous dialogues that sweep along uninterrupted lines of text—in which only a Capital letter signals the alternation of voices--; with the periodic authorial guidance that always strips out the unequivocal from trapping conventions; with his shrewd meditations on the nature of language and of creativity; with a much milder and sweeter presence of the humour to which he has accustomed us with other works; and with his inimitable candour and current of tenderness, makes the rowing and reading an exercise in healing serenity.
And out of this writing he has moulded his characters as representative bonecos or figurine-dolls in clay--without forgetting their dog, the appropriately found Achado -- that will behave like projections of ideas and help you notice that your boat can be easily managed and that you can make it take you where you want to go. For things come and go in our life and one has to try to stay under the clear light that helps us see crisp and far.
April 19, 2022
كدأبهِ ساراماغو، على الأقل في «العمى» و «كل الأسماء» و «انقطاعات الموت» يعمل على تشريح علاقتنا بالدولة الحديثة، المتغوّلة، الباردة، المادية، بأذرعها الأخطبوطية الأبدية، التي تسمى أيضًا؛ بيروقراطية.
حكاية صانع خزف تجاوز الستّين، يعيشُ مع ابنته وصهره، يخسر هويته الوحيدة التي يعرفها - هوية الخزّاف - عندما تفقد الخزفيات قيمتها السوقية بعد ظهور البلاستيك.
بقدر ما تبدو الرواية مثل رحلة لرجلٍ - يصرُّ النظام الرأسمالي على تحويله إلى فائض بشري - يحاول إعادة صياغة حياته، فهي أيضًا مشاغبة فلسفية لكهف أفلاطون، لحقيقة أننا مجرد أشخاص يحدقون في الظلال ويتوهمون المعرفة.
لا أحتاج إلى الاستفاضة حول أسلوب الكاتب في الكتابة؛ الفصول تكتب كصكوك متّصلة بالكاد تمنحك فرصة للتوقف، مرهِقة وممتعة معًا. الحوارات المسرودة المعجونة مع كل شيء آخر، والقدرة على التفلسف والتجريد والتأمل بأريحية يُحسد عليها.
هذه هي الرواية السادسة التي قرأتها لساراماغو، لكنني قررتُ أنها تجيء في المرتبة الثانية، بعد العمى، في تأثيرها، ربما أنني حلمتُ بشخصية الخزّاف ليلة أمس، واستيقظت قلقة عليه.
حكاية صانع خزف تجاوز الستّين، يعيشُ مع ابنته وصهره، يخسر هويته الوحيدة التي يعرفها - هوية الخزّاف - عندما تفقد الخزفيات قيمتها السوقية بعد ظهور البلاستيك.
بقدر ما تبدو الرواية مثل رحلة لرجلٍ - يصرُّ النظام الرأسمالي على تحويله إلى فائض بشري - يحاول إعادة صياغة حياته، فهي أيضًا مشاغبة فلسفية لكهف أفلاطون، لحقيقة أننا مجرد أشخاص يحدقون في الظلال ويتوهمون المعرفة.
لا أحتاج إلى الاستفاضة حول أسلوب الكاتب في الكتابة؛ الفصول تكتب كصكوك متّصلة بالكاد تمنحك فرصة للتوقف، مرهِقة وممتعة معًا. الحوارات المسرودة المعجونة مع كل شيء آخر، والقدرة على التفلسف والتجريد والتأمل بأريحية يُحسد عليها.
هذه هي الرواية السادسة التي قرأتها لساراماغو، لكنني قررتُ أنها تجيء في المرتبة الثانية، بعد العمى، في تأثيرها، ربما أنني حلمتُ بشخصية الخزّاف ليلة أمس، واستيقظت قلقة عليه.
August 10, 2022
عمل أدبي وفلسفي جميل يستند على أسطورة كهف أفلاطون
يتأمل في النفس البشرية وقدرة الانسان على إدراك الفارق بين الحقيقة والوهم
ساراماجو يصحب بطل روايته صانع الخزف العجوز وعائلته الصغيرة
في تفاصيل حياتهم وما يدور في نفس كل منهم وينتقل معهم من حال إلى حال
صانع الخزف الذي يفقد عمله وحياته المُحببة الحقيقية بدعوى التطور والحداثة
ويتبقى له الخيار بين الانقياد للواقع الجديد الزائف أو الهروب من الكهف
والتحرر من سلطة الحياة المُصطنعة وقيودها الواهية
رغم ان السرد مُطول بتفاصيل صناعة الخزف لكنه مميز في الفكرة والحوار
ومهارة ساراماجو في تجسيد الأفكار والمُثل الفلسفية في شخصيات روايته
يتأمل في النفس البشرية وقدرة الانسان على إدراك الفارق بين الحقيقة والوهم
ساراماجو يصحب بطل روايته صانع الخزف العجوز وعائلته الصغيرة
في تفاصيل حياتهم وما يدور في نفس كل منهم وينتقل معهم من حال إلى حال
صانع الخزف الذي يفقد عمله وحياته المُحببة الحقيقية بدعوى التطور والحداثة
ويتبقى له الخيار بين الانقياد للواقع الجديد الزائف أو الهروب من الكهف
والتحرر من سلطة الحياة المُصطنعة وقيودها الواهية
رغم ان السرد مُطول بتفاصيل صناعة الخزف لكنه مميز في الفكرة والحوار
ومهارة ساراماجو في تجسيد الأفكار والمُثل الفلسفية في شخصيات روايته
July 27, 2020
"This is the dangerous thing about appearances, when they deceive us, it’s always for the worse."
The Cave is a strangely mesmerizing book. I have no idea why I liked it as much as I did. It was not enjoyable to read.... and yet I had to finish it.
It's pretty much a running stream of consciousness of the characters, mainly the elderly potter whose product is no longer wanted. People now prefer plastic, not his higher quality, but perishable, dishes.
The reason it was not enjoyable to read is because there are very few paragraph breaks and the large, blocky text triggered headaches for me. It made me nauseated at times. I'm not a glutton for punishment, so you'd think I would just stop reading..... but I couldn't. Like I said, it was strangely mesmerizing.
The writing, no matter how clunky, just reels you in. The author does not use quotation marks, or even periods when characters are talking. It's written like this, Different character's voices are only seen because they start with a capitalized letter for the first word, But it's hard to keep track of who is speaking, And so I found myself re-reading dialogue much of the time, Trying to figure out who the hell is saying what.
If you can listen to audio, I think it would probably be preferable to reading this book. Maybe most people get used to the style of writing and I might have if not for the headaches.
The blurb makes it sound like dystopia; it is not. It is an allegorical tale that has very little to do with the Centre other than the old man goes to live there, and the higher-ups at the Centre are who make his work redundant.
It's a beautiful allegory and I love how it ended.... but if this is typical of how José Saramago wrote, I won't be reading any more of his work.
The Cave is a strangely mesmerizing book. I have no idea why I liked it as much as I did. It was not enjoyable to read.... and yet I had to finish it.
It's pretty much a running stream of consciousness of the characters, mainly the elderly potter whose product is no longer wanted. People now prefer plastic, not his higher quality, but perishable, dishes.
The reason it was not enjoyable to read is because there are very few paragraph breaks and the large, blocky text triggered headaches for me. It made me nauseated at times. I'm not a glutton for punishment, so you'd think I would just stop reading..... but I couldn't. Like I said, it was strangely mesmerizing.
The writing, no matter how clunky, just reels you in. The author does not use quotation marks, or even periods when characters are talking. It's written like this, Different character's voices are only seen because they start with a capitalized letter for the first word, But it's hard to keep track of who is speaking, And so I found myself re-reading dialogue much of the time, Trying to figure out who the hell is saying what.
If you can listen to audio, I think it would probably be preferable to reading this book. Maybe most people get used to the style of writing and I might have if not for the headaches.
The blurb makes it sound like dystopia; it is not. It is an allegorical tale that has very little to do with the Centre other than the old man goes to live there, and the higher-ups at the Centre are who make his work redundant.
It's a beautiful allegory and I love how it ended.... but if this is typical of how José Saramago wrote, I won't be reading any more of his work.
August 21, 2025
Stunning! Five Stars! For all audiences!
If your not reading Saramago yet ...
This guy’s got game!
If your not reading Saramago yet ...
This guy’s got game!
February 18, 2015
الإهداء، وكالعادة، للصديقة والحبيبة، والزوجة الاستثنائية : بيلار
إلى بيلار
ألف مرة أخرى
واستهلال الرواية من كتاب الجمهورية لأفلاطون :
يا لغرابة المشهد الذي تصفه، ويا لهم من سجناء مستغربين. إنهم مثلنا.
من لم يقرأ الكهف، لم يقرأ
~~~
وأخيرًا، وبعد طول انتظار، رواية الكهف متوفرة Pdf
لتحميل النسخة العربية من الرواية:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1Yu...
الشكر الجزيل للصديق مصطفى قطب.
لتحميل الرواية بحجم مخفض :
http://www.4shared.com/office/IcDXXS4...
والشكر للصديق إبراهيم عادل لتصويرها.
~~~
لتحميل الترجمة الإنجليزية من الرواية:
http://www.4shared.com/office/a59wGHj...
إلى بيلار
ألف مرة أخرى
واستهلال الرواية من كتاب الجمهورية لأفلاطون :
يا لغرابة المشهد الذي تصفه، ويا لهم من سجناء مستغربين. إنهم مثلنا.
من لم يقرأ الكهف، لم يقرأ
~~~
وأخيرًا، وبعد طول انتظار، رواية الكهف متوفرة Pdf
لتحميل النسخة العربية من الرواية:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1Yu...
الشكر الجزيل للصديق مصطفى قطب.
لتحميل الرواية بحجم مخفض :
http://www.4shared.com/office/IcDXXS4...
والشكر للصديق إبراهيم عادل لتصويرها.
~~~
لتحميل الترجمة الإنجليزية من الرواية:
http://www.4shared.com/office/a59wGHj...
May 13, 2012
أعتقد أنني تحدثت كثيرا عن هذه الرواية ربما وأنا أقرأ كنتُ أنقل لكم مشاعري أثناء القراءة كما كنتُ أفعل على تويتر إنني لم أهتم فقط بالقصة لكن ما سلب لبي و جعلني مأخوذة بهذه الرواية هو أسلوب ساراماغو السردي وإن لم أكن بعيدة عنه في رواياته الأخرى كم أحب هذه التدخلات التي يطل فيها ساراماغو برأسه ويلعب فيها دور السارد معللا ومفسرا ومفلسفا للكثير من تصرفات شخصياته
إن الأمر يجعلك مشاركا وليس مستمعا فقط إن حديثه المتخيل هذا يبين كم إن لهذا الرجل ملكة تخيل واسعة تمكنه من معرفة ماذا يدور في ذهن القارىء وكيف يستطيع أن يرد عليه ويرضي فضوله أو لعله يثيره أكثر إنها قمة البراعة
نعم أحب هذا الأسلوب كما أحب أيضا ثرثرة شخصياته دون أن يفصح عن القائل يحفز ذكائك ويجعلك مشدودا كوتر لتتابع وتتأكد من إنك قادر على مجاراة هذه اللعبة
الأمر أشبه بتحدي إلا إنك ستخرج منتصرا وليس مهزوما أبدا
بطل رواية الكهف خزاف وماكتبه ساراماغو عن هذه الصنعة على مدى 400 صفحة يجعلك تزداد إعجابا فمن أين تأتى لهذا الروائي كل هذه المعلومات عن هذه الحرفة ليس فقط معلومات عابرة بل يصل الأمر به إلى كل فنياتها ويتعداه إلى مشاعر الصانع وهو يمارسها
إن ساراماغو لا يكف عن إثارة القلق لدى القارىء
القلق الجميل الذي يصحبه رغبة في المتابعة والمعرفة
إنها حقا من إجمل الروايات التي يمكن أن تقرأها عن الوجود الإنساني حين يقف وجها لوجه مع الحداثة والرأسمالية وذلك التعليب والتجميد للضمير الإنساني
من المهم قراءة غلاف الرواية الخلفي عن إمثولة كهف إفلاطون
علما بإنك لن تحتاجها إلا في الصفحات الأخيرة من الرواية
November 20, 2024
Lento, uggioso, monotono, tedioso all’inverosimile. Mi ha straziato l’anima, purtroppo non positivamente.
Ho odiato ogni singolo personaggio di questo libro, si salva il cane. Appena conclusa la lettura avrei voluto immediatamente dare fuoco al libro, se solo non fosse stato della biblioteca... Il più deludente tra tutti i Saramago letti.
Ho odiato ogni singolo personaggio di questo libro, si salva il cane. Appena conclusa la lettura avrei voluto immediatamente dare fuoco al libro, se solo non fosse stato della biblioteca... Il più deludente tra tutti i Saramago letti.
December 18, 2017
So far one of my favorite Saramago's books with maybe just a notch bellow Cain.
January 28, 2016
كالعادة جمال الأهداء إلى بيلار في بداية الرواية يزيدها رونق على رونق فهي بيلار التي لم تتركه ليموت :
الكهف ..... جوزيه ساراماجو
أننا لا نعرف أكثر بكثير عن تعقيدات الحياة إذا ما عكفنا بجد على دراسة تناقضاتها بدلًا من أن نضيع وقتًا طويلًا في أوجه التماثل و التناسق التي يفترض فيها أن تعبر عن نفسها بنفسها .
يعني إيه أسلوب روائي متفرد ؟ يعني الكاتب يأخذك في رحلة طويلة , تختلط فيها الواقعية بالرمزية بالفلسفة العميقة , لينجح في النهاية بكل سلاسة في توصيل رسالته العظيمة في أقوى صورها.
ساراماجو : الكاتب المؤمن برسالته الإنسانية , البليغ في توصيلها , الناجح في التأثير على حياتنا , من قال أن الصفحات المسطورة لا تلعب دور في تكوين عقولنا ؟ إذا فلماذا قدّسها الإله و أقسم بها في تنزيله ؟
لقد أقسم بها الرب لعلمه بأن صفحة مكتوبة من يد مخلوق نابغ قد تؤدي دور رسالة دينية ما .
ساراماجو هو ذلك الإنسان النابغ , ورواياته هي صفحات عظيمة و كلماته رسائل بالغة التأثير.
ببساطة مطلقة : هي رواية عن الإنسان في شتى صوره , الإنسان البسيط المطحون تحت مدنية زائفة وحضارة لا تحترم آدميتنا , الإنسان بسليقته وطبيعته المسكينة , الضعيف والقوي في آن واحد , الرافض لمصيره المستسلم له , ليظل يحارب في الحياة إلى أن يوافيه أجله.
فهكذا هي الحياة , إنها مليئة بكلمات لا تستحق النطق بها , أو أنها استحقت ذلك في وقت ما ولم تعد تستحقه , فكل كلمة نقولها تنتزع مكان كلمة أخرى أكثر جدارة منها , و تكون كذلك ليس لذاتها , و إنما للعواقب المترتبة على قولها.
الكاتب خبير بالحياة , متمرس في فهمها ومعيشتها , ليست الحياة الراقية المليئة بالنعم , بل حياة التقشف والصعوبات , فعبر عنها بأبلغ ما يكون.
الأقلام الشيوعية ياخوانا هي الأعظم بلا استثناء , إيمان نابع من داخل السطور , و قضية يدافعون عنها إلى الموت .
العمق الفلسفي أضاف للرواية الكثير , فصنع مزيج مبهر بين الحياة الصاخبة و المثالية المرغوبة لتنتج لنا عمل أدبي من الطراز الرفيع.
الترجمة : ترجمة صالح علماني , بس.
الكهف ..... جوزيه ساراماجو
أننا لا نعرف أكثر بكثير عن تعقيدات الحياة إذا ما عكفنا بجد على دراسة تناقضاتها بدلًا من أن نضيع وقتًا طويلًا في أوجه التماثل و التناسق التي يفترض فيها أن تعبر عن نفسها بنفسها .
يعني إيه أسلوب روائي متفرد ؟ يعني الكاتب يأخذك في رحلة طويلة , تختلط فيها الواقعية بالرمزية بالفلسفة العميقة , لينجح في النهاية بكل سلاسة في توصيل رسالته العظيمة في أقوى صورها.
ساراماجو : الكاتب المؤمن برسالته الإنسانية , البليغ في توصيلها , الناجح في التأثير على حياتنا , من قال أن الصفحات المسطورة لا تلعب دور في تكوين عقولنا ؟ إذا فلماذا قدّسها الإله و أقسم بها في تنزيله ؟
لقد أقسم بها الرب لعلمه بأن صفحة مكتوبة من يد مخلوق نابغ قد تؤدي دور رسالة دينية ما .
ساراماجو هو ذلك الإنسان النابغ , ورواياته هي صفحات عظيمة و كلماته رسائل بالغة التأثير.
ببساطة مطلقة : هي رواية عن الإنسان في شتى صوره , الإنسان البسيط المطحون تحت مدنية زائفة وحضارة لا تحترم آدميتنا , الإنسان بسليقته وطبيعته المسكينة , الضعيف والقوي في آن واحد , الرافض لمصيره المستسلم له , ليظل يحارب في الحياة إلى أن يوافيه أجله.
فهكذا هي الحياة , إنها مليئة بكلمات لا تستحق النطق بها , أو أنها استحقت ذلك في وقت ما ولم تعد تستحقه , فكل كلمة نقولها تنتزع مكان كلمة أخرى أكثر جدارة منها , و تكون كذلك ليس لذاتها , و إنما للعواقب المترتبة على قولها.
الكاتب خبير بالحياة , متمرس في فهمها ومعيشتها , ليست الحياة الراقية المليئة بالنعم , بل حياة التقشف والصعوبات , فعبر عنها بأبلغ ما يكون.
الأقلام الشيوعية ياخوانا هي الأعظم بلا استثناء , إيمان نابع من داخل السطور , و قضية يدافعون عنها إلى الموت .
العمق الفلسفي أضاف للرواية الكثير , فصنع مزيج مبهر بين الحياة الصاخبة و المثالية المرغوبة لتنتج لنا عمل أدبي من الطراز الرفيع.
الترجمة : ترجمة صالح علماني , بس.
July 28, 2009
Beware: Brilliance abounds between the pages of this book.
The way Saramago paints his characters leads you in two directions. You are able to identify with their desires, fears and insecurities while at the same time able to look down as the all wise deity feeling as if you are willfully guiding them along the right path. His style pulls you in and doesn’t let go. The relationships are beautifully complex down to the simple one of a man and his dog, Found.
No one can walk away from this book without having part of it stay with them. You can take whatever you choose from the allegorical message but for myself it was a myriad of things. The unidentified unnamed city molded itself into my own artificial city in the south.
As a newly economic aware society we like to pat ourselves on the back for whatever materialism we choose not to participate in while at the same time secretly joining in on what “The Center” deems acceptable or carrying the bag accepted by “The Center”. The artificial world Saramago created left an uncomfortable eery future feeling I couldn’t shake and left me thinking about our own artificial world filled with being told what we can and cannot wear, say, read, eat, own or enjoy.
So really, it comes down to two things. Will that be you tethered to the Marc Jacobs bag or will you be bumping along in the beat up van with an arm around Found on the road to unknown? As for me, I’ve always had an affection for scruffy canine companions and dirt roads.
The way Saramago paints his characters leads you in two directions. You are able to identify with their desires, fears and insecurities while at the same time able to look down as the all wise deity feeling as if you are willfully guiding them along the right path. His style pulls you in and doesn’t let go. The relationships are beautifully complex down to the simple one of a man and his dog, Found.
No one can walk away from this book without having part of it stay with them. You can take whatever you choose from the allegorical message but for myself it was a myriad of things. The unidentified unnamed city molded itself into my own artificial city in the south.
As a newly economic aware society we like to pat ourselves on the back for whatever materialism we choose not to participate in while at the same time secretly joining in on what “The Center” deems acceptable or carrying the bag accepted by “The Center”. The artificial world Saramago created left an uncomfortable eery future feeling I couldn’t shake and left me thinking about our own artificial world filled with being told what we can and cannot wear, say, read, eat, own or enjoy.
So really, it comes down to two things. Will that be you tethered to the Marc Jacobs bag or will you be bumping along in the beat up van with an arm around Found on the road to unknown? As for me, I’ve always had an affection for scruffy canine companions and dirt roads.
March 20, 2021
” due debolezze non fanno una debolezza maggiore, ma una forza nuova.”
Cipriano Algor sta guidando il camioncino con a fianco il genero Marçal Gacho.
I due, dalla provincia, stanno raggiungendo la città principale attraverso un percorso concentrico: dalla Cintura Agricola alla Cintura Industriale.
La méta è il Centro: il mastodontico complesso commerciale; cuore pulsante economico e sociale.
Un romanzo che ho letto molto lentamente perché richiede parecchia attenzione.
La contrapposizione tra il mondo artigianale (rappresentato da Cipriano e la figlia Marta, con il loro lavoro di vasai) e quello del commercio contemporaneo, ha tempi e modi opposti.
Da un lato un mondo di valori e l’umanizzazione del lavoro; dall’altro la dimensione cieca e sorda che si muove solo sui i binari del profitto.
” vedeva che il mondo è fatto così, che le menzogne sono tante e le verità nessuna, o qualcuna, sì, ce ne sarà pure qualcuna, ma in continuo mutare...”
Un mondo di schiavi che non hanno coscienza di esserlo e bloccati nella loro posizione non possono voltare il viso verso ciò che è la realtà.
La società contemporanea illude di poter conservare la propria personalità mentre agisce sull’omologazione di massa.
Il mito della caverna con cui Platone andava a spiegare la dicotomia tra mondo sensibile mondo delle idee si applica a questa società basata sull’inganno perpetuo.
Saramago ricrea questa modello e ci indica la strada per liberarci.
Non basta accorgersi di quanto siano false certe impalcature, occorre anche slegarsi le mani ed avere coraggio di vivere in modo diverso.
Profondo ed ostico.
Esattamente quello che mi aspettavo da uno dei miei autori preferiti.
(PS- come in Cecità anche qui c'è un cane che sa consolare l'umano che piange!!)
"Ho vissuto, guardato, letto, sentito, Cosa c’entra leggere, Leggendo, si viene a sapere quasi tutto, Anch’io leggo, Qualcosa, dunque, dovrai pur saperla, Ora non ne sono più tanto sicura, Allora dovrai leggere in altra maniera, Come, Non serve per tutti la stessa, ciascuno inventa la propria, quella che gli sia più consona, c’è chi passa tutta la vita a leggere senza mai riuscire ad andare al di là della lettura, restano appiccicati alla pagina, non percepiscono che le parole sono soltanto delle pietre messe di traverso nella corrente di un fiume, sono lì solo per farci arrivare all’altra sponda, quella che conta è l’altra sponda, A meno che, A meno che, cosa, A meno che quei fiumi non abbiano due sole sponde, ma tante, che ogni persona che legge sia, essa stessa, la propria sponda, e che sia sua, e soltanto sua, la sponda a cui dovrà arrivare"
Cipriano Algor sta guidando il camioncino con a fianco il genero Marçal Gacho.
I due, dalla provincia, stanno raggiungendo la città principale attraverso un percorso concentrico: dalla Cintura Agricola alla Cintura Industriale.
La méta è il Centro: il mastodontico complesso commerciale; cuore pulsante economico e sociale.
Un romanzo che ho letto molto lentamente perché richiede parecchia attenzione.
La contrapposizione tra il mondo artigianale (rappresentato da Cipriano e la figlia Marta, con il loro lavoro di vasai) e quello del commercio contemporaneo, ha tempi e modi opposti.
Da un lato un mondo di valori e l’umanizzazione del lavoro; dall’altro la dimensione cieca e sorda che si muove solo sui i binari del profitto.
” vedeva che il mondo è fatto così, che le menzogne sono tante e le verità nessuna, o qualcuna, sì, ce ne sarà pure qualcuna, ma in continuo mutare...”
Un mondo di schiavi che non hanno coscienza di esserlo e bloccati nella loro posizione non possono voltare il viso verso ciò che è la realtà.
La società contemporanea illude di poter conservare la propria personalità mentre agisce sull’omologazione di massa.
Il mito della caverna con cui Platone andava a spiegare la dicotomia tra mondo sensibile mondo delle idee si applica a questa società basata sull’inganno perpetuo.
Saramago ricrea questa modello e ci indica la strada per liberarci.
Non basta accorgersi di quanto siano false certe impalcature, occorre anche slegarsi le mani ed avere coraggio di vivere in modo diverso.
Profondo ed ostico.
Esattamente quello che mi aspettavo da uno dei miei autori preferiti.
(PS- come in Cecità anche qui c'è un cane che sa consolare l'umano che piange!!)
"Ho vissuto, guardato, letto, sentito, Cosa c’entra leggere, Leggendo, si viene a sapere quasi tutto, Anch’io leggo, Qualcosa, dunque, dovrai pur saperla, Ora non ne sono più tanto sicura, Allora dovrai leggere in altra maniera, Come, Non serve per tutti la stessa, ciascuno inventa la propria, quella che gli sia più consona, c’è chi passa tutta la vita a leggere senza mai riuscire ad andare al di là della lettura, restano appiccicati alla pagina, non percepiscono che le parole sono soltanto delle pietre messe di traverso nella corrente di un fiume, sono lì solo per farci arrivare all’altra sponda, quella che conta è l’altra sponda, A meno che, A meno che, cosa, A meno che quei fiumi non abbiano due sole sponde, ma tante, che ogni persona che legge sia, essa stessa, la propria sponda, e che sia sua, e soltanto sua, la sponda a cui dovrà arrivare"
December 19, 2020
The Cave is a tender novel about the love between a father, his daughter, son-in-law and dog whose simple way of life is threatened by "The Center." It is also a scathing indictment of consumer culture. Like the prisoners in Plato's cave, the residents of the nearby Center experience only the flat outlines of real life.
Saramago writes with few paragraph breaks and no quotation marks. Although I found the blocks of text difficult at first, soon, I was pulled into this lovely, scary novel. I finished this a couple days ago and can't stop thinking about it.
Saramago writes with few paragraph breaks and no quotation marks. Although I found the blocks of text difficult at first, soon, I was pulled into this lovely, scary novel. I finished this a couple days ago and can't stop thinking about it.
March 30, 2016
Sözkonusu kişi Saramago olunca ben pek objektif olamam genelde. Fakat bu kitap, objektivitenin falan çok ötesinde. İçinde deha, tecrübe, bilgi ve yetenek barındırmayan tek bir satır bile yok.
Kendi halinde, post-modern dünyanın kurallarına elinden geldiğince uymadan yaşamaya çalışan çömlekçi Cipriano Algor ile kızı ve damadının öyküsünü okuyoruz bu kez -ve tabii zeki köpekleri Buldum'un. 'Merkez' isimli, kentin merkezindeki dev alışveriş merkezi de, hem romanın hem de aslında hemen hepimizin hayatının merkezinde yer alıyor. Üstelik bunu kitaba, distopik bir unsur gibi yerleştiriyor Saramago, her türlü (sahte) renkli yanına rağmen. Akil, yaşamayı ve insan olmayı bilen insanlar için Merkez bir esaret yeriyken, tüketim ve post-modernitenin kurbanı olmuş yüzbinler oraya ulaşabilmek için can atıyor.
El emeği. El emeği çömlekler, el emeği biblolar, el emeği bir yaşam. Plastikten bir hayat karşısında tutunmaya çalıştıkça Cipriano Algor ve ailesi, giderek daha da birbirine kenetleniyor. Ortak düşmanı doğru anda tanıyorlar ve damadın Merkez'in kalbinde çalışıyor olmasına rağmen kendilerini kaptırmıyorlar. Sözü geçen harika mağara alegorisi ise bardağı taşıran damla oluyor sonunda. 'Artık yeter' diyor yaşlı çömlekçi, başı çekerek.
Basit insanlar üzerinden büyük felsefi temaları nasıl da iyi anlattığını bildiğimiz Saramago elbette ki beklentilerimizi yine boşa çıkarmıyor. Muhteşem bir üçlü mağara alegorisiyle varoluştan tüketime kadar söyleyebileceği her şeyi okuru hiç sıkmadan, ne sıkması, muhteşem lezzette bir akşam yemeğini yedikçe yemek isteğine sahip bir insanın iştahıyla okutuyor. Neden yaşadığımızı, yaşarken neler yaptığımızı unuttuğumuz dönemlerde tüketime daha da düşüyoruz bence. Saramago da -ki kendisi her şeyin farkında ve her cümleye kâdirdir; şüphesiz ki o yaratılmış ve yaratılacak olan her türlü edebiyatın yegane ilahıdır!- buna dikkat çekiyor ve tüketimin tam karşısına, hem de tam olarak el emeğine ait bir üretim koyuyor. Sonsuz ve acımasız realistliği ise kitabın sonunda kendisine yer buluyor.
Bazı insanlar Saramago'yu okurken zorlanıyor, bilinir ki kendisi bilinçakışı tekniğini kendine has şekilde kullanır; ve tabii diyalogları arasında ne bir tırnak ne de konuşma çizgisi yer alır. Ancak ben "Körlük"ten itibaren (ilk okuduğum eseri oydu) bu tarza hayran olmuştum. Mağara'yı da okurken o kadar büyük keyif aldım, o kadar çok yerin altını çizdim, o kadar çok yeri tekrar tekrar okudum ki, bu kitap sanırım artık en sevdiğim Saramago eseri oldu, diyebiliyorum. Daha önce bu mertebede "Kopyalanmış Adam" vardı ve o da başka bir benlik irdelemesiydi.
Dediğim gibi sayısız yeri alıntılayabilirim ama buna ne yer yeter, ne de benim bütün kitabı buraya aktaracak kadar parmağım var. Zaten o da öyle söylüyor:
"Hayat buydu işte, söylenmeye değmez ya da bir kez söylendikten sonra bir daha söylenmesi gerekmez sözlerle doluydu, söylediğimiz her söz, söylenmeyi kendi özünden ötürü değil, ağızdan çıkmasının yaratacağı sonuçlardan ötürü daha çok hak eden başka bir sözün yerini alıyordu."
Kendi halinde, post-modern dünyanın kurallarına elinden geldiğince uymadan yaşamaya çalışan çömlekçi Cipriano Algor ile kızı ve damadının öyküsünü okuyoruz bu kez -ve tabii zeki köpekleri Buldum'un. 'Merkez' isimli, kentin merkezindeki dev alışveriş merkezi de, hem romanın hem de aslında hemen hepimizin hayatının merkezinde yer alıyor. Üstelik bunu kitaba, distopik bir unsur gibi yerleştiriyor Saramago, her türlü (sahte) renkli yanına rağmen. Akil, yaşamayı ve insan olmayı bilen insanlar için Merkez bir esaret yeriyken, tüketim ve post-modernitenin kurbanı olmuş yüzbinler oraya ulaşabilmek için can atıyor.
El emeği. El emeği çömlekler, el emeği biblolar, el emeği bir yaşam. Plastikten bir hayat karşısında tutunmaya çalıştıkça Cipriano Algor ve ailesi, giderek daha da birbirine kenetleniyor. Ortak düşmanı doğru anda tanıyorlar ve damadın Merkez'in kalbinde çalışıyor olmasına rağmen kendilerini kaptırmıyorlar. Sözü geçen harika mağara alegorisi ise bardağı taşıran damla oluyor sonunda. 'Artık yeter' diyor yaşlı çömlekçi, başı çekerek.
Basit insanlar üzerinden büyük felsefi temaları nasıl da iyi anlattığını bildiğimiz Saramago elbette ki beklentilerimizi yine boşa çıkarmıyor. Muhteşem bir üçlü mağara alegorisiyle varoluştan tüketime kadar söyleyebileceği her şeyi okuru hiç sıkmadan, ne sıkması, muhteşem lezzette bir akşam yemeğini yedikçe yemek isteğine sahip bir insanın iştahıyla okutuyor. Neden yaşadığımızı, yaşarken neler yaptığımızı unuttuğumuz dönemlerde tüketime daha da düşüyoruz bence. Saramago da -ki kendisi her şeyin farkında ve her cümleye kâdirdir; şüphesiz ki o yaratılmış ve yaratılacak olan her türlü edebiyatın yegane ilahıdır!- buna dikkat çekiyor ve tüketimin tam karşısına, hem de tam olarak el emeğine ait bir üretim koyuyor. Sonsuz ve acımasız realistliği ise kitabın sonunda kendisine yer buluyor.
Bazı insanlar Saramago'yu okurken zorlanıyor, bilinir ki kendisi bilinçakışı tekniğini kendine has şekilde kullanır; ve tabii diyalogları arasında ne bir tırnak ne de konuşma çizgisi yer alır. Ancak ben "Körlük"ten itibaren (ilk okuduğum eseri oydu) bu tarza hayran olmuştum. Mağara'yı da okurken o kadar büyük keyif aldım, o kadar çok yerin altını çizdim, o kadar çok yeri tekrar tekrar okudum ki, bu kitap sanırım artık en sevdiğim Saramago eseri oldu, diyebiliyorum. Daha önce bu mertebede "Kopyalanmış Adam" vardı ve o da başka bir benlik irdelemesiydi.
Dediğim gibi sayısız yeri alıntılayabilirim ama buna ne yer yeter, ne de benim bütün kitabı buraya aktaracak kadar parmağım var. Zaten o da öyle söylüyor:
"Hayat buydu işte, söylenmeye değmez ya da bir kez söylendikten sonra bir daha söylenmesi gerekmez sözlerle doluydu, söylediğimiz her söz, söylenmeyi kendi özünden ötürü değil, ağızdan çıkmasının yaratacağı sonuçlardan ötürü daha çok hak eden başka bir sözün yerini alıyordu."
Want to read
January 17, 2025An old potter grapples with the new reality that consumers are transitioning to plastic
Recommended by Old Man and the Read in the video Best 77 books I've read over the past 77 years: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zYZC...
Recommended by Old Man and the Read in the video Best 77 books I've read over the past 77 years: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zYZC...
June 28, 2020
“Cipriano Algor put the spade down and plunged his two hands into the ashes. He touched the thin and unmistakable roughness of the fired clay. Then, as if he were helping at a birth, he grasped between thumb, forefinger, and middle finger the still buried head of a figurine and pulled it out. It happened to be the nurse. He brushed the ashes from her body and blew on her face, as if he were endowing her with some kind of life, giving to her the breath of his own lungs, the beating of his own heart.” - José Saramago, The Cave
Protagonist Cipriano Algor, an artisan living in the country with his daughter and son-in-law, sells his handmade tableware to the Center. The Center’s agent tells Cipriano his services are no longer required, so he attempts to find another way to make money from his skill as a potter. It is a story of everyday life involving a family, a stray dog, a budding relationship, and how these people deal with change.
This book requires patience, as the meaning of The Cave is not apparent until the end. It is not for anyone looking for plot-driven action. As is typical of Saramago, it is written in stream-of-consciousness without quotation marks or separation of dialogue, so the reader has to keep track mentally. He strings together a series of words to convey many shades of meaning.
It is a story of human (and animal) connections in uncertain times, how people can deceive themselves, and how we maintain our illusions rather than confronting the truth. It is a social commentary on the increasing artificiality of our world. I think it is particularly pertinent to our present time.
I embark annually on a project to read five works from a notable author. This year I picked Portuguese author José Saramago, recipient of the 1998 Nobel Prize in Literature. This is the fifth of five for the year. I just loved it and am adding it to my list of favorites.
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In case anyone is interested, these are the others I have read. His work is consistently high quality.
José Saramago: 2020
- Blindness - 4 stars - My Review
- The Stone Raft by José Saramago - 4 stars - My Review
- The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis - 4 stars - My Review
- The History of the Siege of Lisbon - 3 stars - My Review
Protagonist Cipriano Algor, an artisan living in the country with his daughter and son-in-law, sells his handmade tableware to the Center. The Center’s agent tells Cipriano his services are no longer required, so he attempts to find another way to make money from his skill as a potter. It is a story of everyday life involving a family, a stray dog, a budding relationship, and how these people deal with change.
This book requires patience, as the meaning of The Cave is not apparent until the end. It is not for anyone looking for plot-driven action. As is typical of Saramago, it is written in stream-of-consciousness without quotation marks or separation of dialogue, so the reader has to keep track mentally. He strings together a series of words to convey many shades of meaning.
It is a story of human (and animal) connections in uncertain times, how people can deceive themselves, and how we maintain our illusions rather than confronting the truth. It is a social commentary on the increasing artificiality of our world. I think it is particularly pertinent to our present time.
I embark annually on a project to read five works from a notable author. This year I picked Portuguese author José Saramago, recipient of the 1998 Nobel Prize in Literature. This is the fifth of five for the year. I just loved it and am adding it to my list of favorites.
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In case anyone is interested, these are the others I have read. His work is consistently high quality.
José Saramago: 2020
- Blindness - 4 stars - My Review
- The Stone Raft by José Saramago - 4 stars - My Review
- The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis - 4 stars - My Review
- The History of the Siege of Lisbon - 3 stars - My Review
March 9, 2015
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 16, 2017
عليك أن تقرأ بطريقة أخرى، كيف؟
لا وجود لطريقة نافعة للجميع، فكل شخص يخترع طريقته، طريقته الخاصة.
هناك من يقضي حياته كلها في القراءة دون أن يمضي إلى ما هو أبعد من القراءة، هؤلاء يبقون ملتصقين بالصفحات، لا يدركون أن الكلمات ليست سوى أحجار مصفوصة تعترض تيار النهر، وإذا كانت هناك فإنها موجودة لكي تتمكن من الوصول إلى الضفة الأخرى، الضفة الأخرى هي المهمة، إلا إذا لم تكن لهذه الأنهار ضفتان وإنما ضفاف كثيرة، وكل شخص يقرأ تكون تلك هي ضفته الخاصة، وتكون له وله وحده الضفة التي سيصل إليها.
لحسن الحظ أن الكتب موجودة.. ويمكن لنا أن ننساها في خزانة أو صندوق، أو نتركها للغبار والعثة، أو نهجرها في عتمة الأقبية، يمكن لنا ألا نمر عليها بعيوننا ولا نلمسها لسنوات وسنوات، ولكنها لا تهتم بذلك كله، وتنتظر بهدوء منطبقة على نفسها كيلا يضيع شيء مما تحتويه في داخلها، ودومًا تأتي اللحظة، يأتي هذا اليوم الذي نتساءل فيه، أين هو ذلك الكتاب الذي يعلّم... ويظهر أخيرًا الكتاب المطلوب.
العزيز ساراماجو
في روايته الرائعة العمى تخيل ساراماجو أن الناس جميعًا أصبحوا في حالة فقدان للبصر إلا شخص واحد، وأظهر لنا حقيقة الإنسان التي هي أقل من أشرس حيوان ممكن أن تقابله.
سيأكل بعضنا بعضا، وستنتهك جميع أنواع الانتهاكات باسم الجوع والاحتياج والضياع، سيظهر الوجه الحقيقي للإنسان.
لكنه في الكهف وصف لنا ما نحن نعيش فيه.
وصف حالنا قبل ذلك منذ مئات السنين وماذا فعلت المدنية بنا.
إننا ندور مثل الآلات وفقدنا إنسانيتنا ومشاعرنا وحرياتنا،
فقدنا ذاتنا، فقدنا كل شيء.
وكما قال ساراماجو:
"ربما هناك أمور لا نبدأ في فهمها إلا عندما نصل إلى هناك، نصل إلي هناك، إلى أين، إلى التقدم في السن".
الكهف أُناس مقيدون ويظنون أنهم يعيشون الحرية، ولكنهم يمشون لطريق الموت وهم أموات.
ساراماجو حب كبييييير <3 <3
لا وجود لطريقة نافعة للجميع، فكل شخص يخترع طريقته، طريقته الخاصة.
هناك من يقضي حياته كلها في القراءة دون أن يمضي إلى ما هو أبعد من القراءة، هؤلاء يبقون ملتصقين بالصفحات، لا يدركون أن الكلمات ليست سوى أحجار مصفوصة تعترض تيار النهر، وإذا كانت هناك فإنها موجودة لكي تتمكن من الوصول إلى الضفة الأخرى، الضفة الأخرى هي المهمة، إلا إذا لم تكن لهذه الأنهار ضفتان وإنما ضفاف كثيرة، وكل شخص يقرأ تكون تلك هي ضفته الخاصة، وتكون له وله وحده الضفة التي سيصل إليها.
لحسن الحظ أن الكتب موجودة.. ويمكن لنا أن ننساها في خزانة أو صندوق، أو نتركها للغبار والعثة، أو نهجرها في عتمة الأقبية، يمكن لنا ألا نمر عليها بعيوننا ولا نلمسها لسنوات وسنوات، ولكنها لا تهتم بذلك كله، وتنتظر بهدوء منطبقة على نفسها كيلا يضيع شيء مما تحتويه في داخلها، ودومًا تأتي اللحظة، يأتي هذا اليوم الذي نتساءل فيه، أين هو ذلك الكتاب الذي يعلّم... ويظهر أخيرًا الكتاب المطلوب.
العزيز ساراماجو
في روايته الرائعة العمى تخيل ساراماجو أن الناس جميعًا أصبحوا في حالة فقدان للبصر إلا شخص واحد، وأظهر لنا حقيقة الإنسان التي هي أقل من أشرس حيوان ممكن أن تقابله.
سيأكل بعضنا بعضا، وستنتهك جميع أنواع الانتهاكات باسم الجوع والاحتياج والضياع، سيظهر الوجه الحقيقي للإنسان.
لكنه في الكهف وصف لنا ما نحن نعيش فيه.
وصف حالنا قبل ذلك منذ مئات السنين وماذا فعلت المدنية بنا.
إننا ندور مثل الآلات وفقدنا إنسانيتنا ومشاعرنا وحرياتنا،
فقدنا ذاتنا، فقدنا كل شيء.
وكما قال ساراماجو:
"ربما هناك أمور لا نبدأ في فهمها إلا عندما نصل إلى هناك، نصل إلي هناك، إلى أين، إلى التقدم في السن".
الكهف أُناس مقيدون ويظنون أنهم يعيشون الحرية، ولكنهم يمشون لطريق الموت وهم أموات.
ساراماجو حب كبييييير <3 <3
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