Jose Saramago, who quickly became one of my favorite authors after I read Blindness just last year, has died. But damn, he had a fine run, producing some of the most amazing novels I’ve ever read. There truly is no writing like Saramago writing.
I am lucky enough, however, to still have a robust back catalog of his work to dive into. In fact, just yesterday, I started The Stone Raft, and already, just 10 pages in, I’m hooked.
Even stranger is that I began work on a novella a few weeks ago, that contains some Saramago-inspired passages. Now, I suppose, I’ll be giving even more time to these sections to ensure they are worthy of their heritage.
Comments
One response to “Jose Saramago, my latest literary love, has died at age 87”
Nooooooooooooo! Just read that news today and I disapprove (even if I’m not as sold on as many of Saramago’s reads as you, Caleb). You hear that, Jose? I disapprove. Please remedy this ASAP.