Widely considered to be one of the most accomplished works from Portugal's only Nobel laureate, Baltasar and Blimunda is a heart-wrenching epic of prodigious scope. Set in the early years of the eighteenth century, the story seamlessly intertwines elements of historical fact, romantic love, richly-imagined fantasy, and poignant wisdom. Satirical and mesmerizing, this tale is a towering achievement of considerable breadth — it explores the consequences of unmitigated power, the lofty and timeless aspirations of the human spirit, and the quiet humility of enduring love. With a conclusion as riveting as it is doleful, Saramago's innate ability to capture even the most elusive of human idiosyncrasies will undoubtedly leave an indelible mark upon the reader.

Bello, veramente bello.
E dire che all’inizio avevo pensato di mollare.
Abituata da tempo a prose leggere, snelle, periodi brevi e tanti “punto e a capo”, trovarmi ad affrontare questi periodi lunghissimi, senza praticamente alcun segno di interpunzione mi aveva stravolto le prospettive. E poi era infinitamente faticoso, in maniera quasi fisica. Cercare di capire quando fare un pausa, chi stava parlando e il tono del discorso senza aiuti da parte dello scrittore mi sembrava una difficoltà insormontabile.
Ma come mi è già capitato di dire sono perseverante e così, andando avanti, mi sono resa conto che questa prosa apparentemente così pesante, aveva un suo ritmo, una sua cadenza che trascendeva la prosa stessa fino a diventare poesia, quasi musica. E una volta entrata nel ritmo la punteggiatura non era poi così importante e la lettura ha cominciato a scorrere via leggera.
Ed allora ha preso corpo la storia, e l’intrecciarsi delle vite di questi tre personaggi, ciascuno a suo modo meravigliosamente magico e profondamente umano. Personaggi che inevitabilmente finisci per amare totalmente.
Bello, veramente bello, di quelli che vorresti non finissero mai, e non semplicemente per prolungare il più possibile il piacere della lettura, ma perché hai l’intima consapevolezza che qualsiasi cosa tu legga subito dopo non sarà all’altezza e non potrà che essere una delusione.

4,5*

Creí que, con Ensayo sobre la ceguera, El evangelio según Jesucristo y Todos los nombres difícilmente mi ranking saramaguiano iba a cambiar (aunque me gustan mucho los 16 libros que le he leído, con excepción de La balsa de piedra y Caín). Memorial del convento me hace replantear mi ranking. Tiene uno de los finales más sorpresivos y tristes que he leído en una novela. Además creo que es la única que recuerdo del portugués donde se mezclan historias múltiples (y muy bien). En casi todas sus obras hay historias de amor y mucha poesía. Pero creo que la mejor historia de amor es esta. Es extraordinaria.

I have always thought that one must be full of a creative madness to write the way it is composed this novel. It is a sheer original, brilliant and spellbound novel.
I was tightly and irrevocably encapsulated by the read from page one. And for sure it didn’t have anything to do with the full moon phenomenon which was happening just this very last weekend…by the time I actually finished it.

What a better start of the novel than by writing of this early 18th century Lisbon royal atmosphere:
≪ Dom Joao, the 5th monarch so named on the royal list, will pay a visit this night to the bedchamber of the Queen, Dona Maria Ana Josefa, who arrived more than two years ago from Austria to provide heirs for the Portuguese crown, and so far has shown no signs of becoming pregnant. Already there are rumors at court, both within and without the royal palace, that the Queen is barren, an insinuation that is carefully guarded from hostile ears and tongues and confided only to intimates. That anyone should blame the King is unthinkable, first because infertility is an evil that befalls not men but women, who for that very reason are often disowned and second, because there is material evidence, should such a thing be necessary, in the horde of bastards produced by the royal semen, who populate the kingdom and even at this moment are forming a procession in the square. Moreover, it is not the King but the Queen who spends all her time in prayer, beseeching a child from heaven, for two good reasons. The first reason is that a king, especially a king of Portugal, does not ask for something that he alone can provide, and the second reason is that a woman is essentially a vessel made to be filled, a natural supplicant, whether she pleads in novenas or in occasional prayers. But neither the perseverance of the King who, unless there is some canonical or physiological impediment, vigorously performs his royal duty twice weekly, nor the patience and humility of the Queen, who, besides praying, subjects herself to total immobility after her husband’s withdrawal, so that their generative secretions may fertilize undisturbed, her scant from a lack of incentive and time, and because of her deep moral scruples, the King’s prodigious, as one might expect from a man who is not yet 22-years of age, neither the one factor nor the other has succeeded so far in causing Dona Maria Ana’s womb to become swollen. Yet God is almighty…. ≫

What I am very sure (as much as a human being can be) that I’m going to remember in a couple of years from this reading is the purely amazing, earthy but also celestial love affair between the two main protagonists -[*unfortunately the 3rd main personage Padre Bartolomeu Lourenco de Gusmao who colored something like a one quarter of the book died far too soon to make a further strong impression…but I’ve missed him even so, he was an extremely brilliant mind for his living times] - Baltasar and Blimunda – two vagabonds, he a former soldier from a war that left him a disabled man without his left hand, and she, a clairvoyant, a girl with supernatural powers, who can see into things and people if fasting was done, two people who are full of eccentricities and have, from time to time, conversations about transcendental things…

The story gravitates around the creation and building of a Flying machine (the so-called beloved Passarola), enterprise which eventually comes to a successful fruition and, which is going to lead to some dramatic consequences for this trinity of airship inventors, and, on a larger scale, on the construction and erecting of the convent of Mafra, a highly ambitious and hard-labouring project which affects eventually the overall population of the country, because events are always interconnected and no one can escape from the eye of the Church (with the high supervision of the Holy Office of the Inquisition) and the State (as per the King’s decrees..).

≪…for it is a well-known fact that the ear has to be educated if one wishes to appreciate musical sounds, just as the eyes must learn to distinguish the value of words and the way in which they are combined when one is reading a text, and the hearing must be trained for one to comprehend speech, These weighty words moderate my frivolous remarks, for it is a common failing among men to say what they believe others wish to hear them say, without sticking to the truth, however, for men to be able to stick to the truth, they must first acknowledge their errors, And commit them, That is a question I couldn’t answer with a simple yes or no, but I do believe in the necessity of error.≫

≪…we never ask ourselves whether there might not be some wisdom in madness, even while recognizing that we are all a little mad. These are ways of keeping firmly on this side of madness, and just imagine, what would happen if madmen demanded to be treated as if they were equals with the sane, who are only a little mad, on the pretext that they themselves still possess a little wisdom, so as to safeguard, for example, their own existence…>>

I’ve found thoroughly absorbing the whole exuberance of the baroque narrative, blended with cascading discourses and meditations on human existence, religion, criss-crossed questions between intellect and faith on life’s governing, all flavoured by a comedy, erudite, sometimes surreal writing style of counting the stories that make up for people’s lives… In the end, Always as something, never as everything, and never as nothing. For, after all, we can escape from everything, but not from ourselves.

My first encounter with the Portuguese Jose Saramago, winner of the Nobel prize for literature in 1998, proved to be a perfect match, reading-wise. Enjoyed myself way too much and above of what I can further add here in. Basically, I fully agree with the author’s statement saying that: ≪the world has been blissfully mad ever since it was conceived. ≫

LA CRUDELTÀ DELLA STORIA

Ambientato nel Settecento, il romanzo si concentra sulla costruzione del Monastero di Mafra, un progetto monumentale voluto dal re Giovanni V come segno di gratitudine verso Dio per avergli concesso un erede.

Credo però che l'aspetto centrale del romanzo sia il potere esercitato dalla Chiesa cattolica che, insieme alla monarchia, sfrutta e opprime il popolo. Saramago mette in luce l'ipocrisia e la crudeltà dell'Inquisizione, un sistema che, in nome della purezza religiosa, perseguitava chiunque fosse considerato eretico o deviante. Il popolo, costretto a faticare e sacrificarsi per un'opera grandiosa e inutile, diventa vittima delle ambizioni spropositate del Re.

Il personaggio di Blimunda, dotato di poteri mistici, rappresenta invece una forma di resistenza spirituale e umana contro questa oppressione. Attraverso la sua relazione con Baltasar (un soldato monco che trova a fatica un ruolo nella società), Saramago esplora il contrasto tra l’autorità repressiva della Chiesa e il desiderio di libertà e dignità delle persone comuni.

Finalmente....


O enredo é tão cansativo, o autor raramente faz parágrafos, coloca as falas no meio dos parágrafos, demasiado confuso, basicamente impossível de ler... E algo que nunca cheguei a saber foi quem era o narrador (talvez seja o próprio autor...).

Reação ao longo do livro:

O conteúdo para o livro que é, não é assim tão mau: um rei que mandou levantar um convento, a história de uma vidente que casou com um homem que perdeu a mão na guerra (bem, é mais complexo que isso, basicamente casaram-se no dia em que se conheceram e partem logo para a ação, e é assim ao longo de todo o livro) e a história de um padre que tinha o sonho de voar (sempre conseguiu construir a máquina voadora e voar nela, mas acaba por morrer). Mas a história está:

O que eu mais detestei neste livro, tirando o facto de, no meu ponto de vista, a escrita ser horrível, foi a maneira com o autor se refere a Deus, coloca-lhe defeitos que não existem na religião cristã e já para não falar dos santos e anjos que os insulta apenas porque as coisas não correram da melhor maneira. Portanto, para quem é cristão, por favor não leia este livro.

Definitivamente, este livro não é um livro para mim ou para qualquer outra pessoa (mas há quem tenho gostado e é preciso respeitar os gostos pessoais). E apenas li este livro porque era obrigatório, porque de outra maneira nunca lhe teria tocado.

My million dollar question is: How did the author win a Nobel Prize? Certainly not with this book.

With some books the chemistry just doesn't work and this is one of them. From page 1 the exuberant, baroque, antiquated language is flowing out of the book: impossible long sentences, with lots of appositions and neverending descriptions; it's all too artificial for me.

The setting, Portugal in the beginning of the 18th century, and the love story that is at the center of this book, are quite interesting. But nevertheless, it just isn't convincing to me. Saramago, in this book, takes on a lot of sacred cows (the monarchy, the church, the wealthy), and perhaps, if I would be living in Portugal in his time, I would have done the same. But in the end, his approach did not appeal to me. Perhaps this deserves a second chance?

Non posso negare di aver faticato tanto per terminare questo libro. Qui manca, decisamente, quell'elemento che nel caso degli altri suoi romanzi mi faceva pensare, una volta finiti: e adesso, come farò a leggere un libro "normale"? Lo stile era già il suo, inconfondibile, ma ancora lontano dalla piacevolezza dei suoi capolavori come Cecità: in questo Memoriale del convento la sua scrittura densa di virgole e povera di punteggiatura superflua sembra studiata per confondere, non per raccontare. Nonostante la bellezza della ricostruzione storica, l'intero romanzo sembra effettivamente un enorme esercizio di stile, le minuziose descrizioni di processioni e altri eventi sono eccessive, ridondanti, forzate. Mi fa male dirlo - se mi chiedessero qual è il mio romanziere preferito, certamente farei il nome di Saramago - ma questo è un romanzo riuscito a metà. Capisco perché altri lo ritengono un capolavoro, ma dal mio punto di vista il primo dovere di un romanziere è raccontare una storia, e quella dei protagonisti di questo libro (due personaggi a dir poco stupendi) è diluita in un mare di descrizioni affascinanti ma piuttosto sterili, e gli elementi "magici" della trama sono esagerati, artificiosi, molto diversi dai meravigliosi espedienti surreali che faranno da sfondo ai romanzi successivi. Ho trovato particolarmente deludente il modo in cui Domenico Scarlatti viene inserito nella storia e la banalità delle frasi che lo circondano, pronunciate da lui o da altri, sulla forza della musica, davvero ingenue.

Leggetelo prima o poi, ma leggete prima Cecità, Il vangelo secondo Gesù Cristo, L'uomo duplicato, Storia dell'assedio di Lisbona... sono felice che Saggio sulla lucidità sia lì ad attendermi tra i libri da leggere, e non vedo l'ora.

It is my first Saramago and I am generally impressed. I loved the hypnotic, almost Homeric writing style. And I enjoyed the fable. Some episodes within this novel such as the flight were breathtaking. However, the main subject matter was not totally mine. I did not have particular interest in the main plot or the characters related to Portuguese royalty. So rating is more me than Saramago. I am sure we would get alone with him doing more fabulist plot in other books.

Pocos escritores tienen el léxico de J. S. Sin duda un deleite leer sus vastas descripciones y caracterizaciones, pero en este libro en particular y, a diferencia de todos los leídos anteriormente, no encontré la solidez que esperaba. Sus personajes no me resultaron para nada entrañables. Su trama no pasó de ser insulsa y hasta aburrida. El ritmo de esta obra es profundamente lento y abrumador. En definitiva, el libro más flojo que le he leído.

Baltasar and Blimunda revolves around the construction of the monumental monastery in Mafra, an effect of slyness of the Franciscans and vanity of the king of Portugal, Joao V. Thousands labouring workers to satisfy the morbid ambitions of monks and pamper bloated ego of the king remind us of builders pyramids in antiquity. Is it the ancient Egypt or the Catholic Portugal pride of kings and hypocrisy of clergy seems to be unchanged for centuries. Marriage of the altar and the throne always looked the same and the little people as ever were losers. People would kneel before the king, the bishop, the altar, the procession, the image of a saint. They would kneel so often that actually did not get up from their knees at all.




Saramago is wonderfully ironic and blasphemous. And equally ruthless towards monarchy and clergy. He's irreverent when with wry humour is stigmatizing their sanctimony, greed, lecherousness and stupidity, he's sarcastic describing endless ceremonials, the institution of the saints and indulgences, and, what a heresy!, doubting in the divine order of the world.

Meanwhile in the background unfolds unusual story, love of the crippled soldier Baltasar and daughter of woman condemned for witchcraft, Blimunda and their relationship with Padre Bartolemeu Lourenço who dreams of building passarola, the flying machine. To deny the law of gravity, soar where angels tread, look into the face of God ? Indeed, rather dangerous chimera in the time of the Inquisition.





Baltasar and Blimunda , alternately brutally realistic and wonderfully magical, you can hear echo of magical realism here is a remarkable tale. Saramago’s style is quite distinguishable, extremely long, complex sentences, often without punctuation, with two narrators all at once. It requires a lot of concentration but it’s highly original and rewarding reading.

Saramago perfectly balanced insatiable hunger for knowledge and questioning the established order of the world with power of love and man's character to create a powerful and visionary story of the human determination to pursue their dreams, overcome own limitations and rise above dreariness in times when life did not mean too much and people were burning like torches.

4.5/5