Small Memories

Jose Saramago was one of the world's greatest novelists--managing to be scalding and whimsical, cosmic and earthbound, cynical and tender. I have read 12 of his novels and been transformed by even his minor works by the originality and jocularity of his dark vision of humanity. Sadly, Small Memories is a shockingly unoriginal and unenthusiastic consideration of the author's childhood by the author himself. I kept waiting for the magic of his grand design to appear, but no. Saramago just jotted down a few minor anecdotes and sent it to his publisher before he died. Please, all of you who love remarkable works of literature, read Blindness, Seeing, Baltasar and Blimunda, The Cave, Cain and Death with Interruptions.

There is no plot and the stories are almost chronological. Saramago tells these stories of his childhood in Portugal in his entertaining writing style. I thoroughly enjoyed this warm book.

It is poetic and real. Small Memories sounded like a real person talking. It is great to read of a person's childhood. Small Memories

The price was amazing, the condition is excellent. Only thing is the remainder mark( black sharpie slash on pages when book is in upright position) but still serves the purpose...readable

Small Memories is certainly something that handles small matters, both in the nature of the memories as well as in the size of the book. I found that in some respects it certainly has some redeemable qualities, but in others I didn't really care for what I was reading.The cons are that you get zero insight into the adult Saramago. What you get instead are small clipped memories, ending just as quickly as each one began, from his childhood. I couldn't help but wait for that aha moment where he finally turned his childhood into something that would help understand his life better. Instead you are given the insight into the life of a poor family growing up in Portugal. Additionally I couldn't help but be slightly annoyed with his constant reference to "that may not quite be how it happened", "this memory may never have happened at all", to "I might not be remembering that person exactly how it happened". His constant reference to the possibilities that everything he is telling us could be completely false devalues the value of a memoir such as this.The pros are that you get a nice view into the life and times of the peasant class growing up in a pre World War II time. How he travelled, how he ate, how he lived, how he interacted with other families. It is rather eye opening in that respect, so there is some worth behind a memoir that is nothing more than fragmented memories pieced together that ultimately have little connection with one another. I can't help but be impressed by how he writes and look forward to reading some of his works, but this very small book did little to show me who Saramago was. If you feel you need to purchase this book, certainly wait for the paperback addition since the 100+ pages isn't worth spending the money on a hardback.2.5 stars.

"Only I knew, without knowing I did, that on the illegible pages of destiny and in the blind meanderings of chance it had been written that I would one day return to Azinhaga to finish being born."Fitting, perhaps, that this thin, elegantly written memoir its one of the final works of Nobel Prize-wining author Jose Saramago. Wandering from place to place and relative to relative, Saramago recalls here his early years in Portugal - sometimes with crystal clarity and sometimes with the magical haze of a forgotten dream, always with an ear for the poetic and an admirable economy of language.From fairy tales and learning to read to mud floors and pigsties. From horrific childhood cruelties to inventing the plots of films based only on their posters. From memorable moonlit nights to family gossip. Saramago reaches into his memories and produces for us, his readers, his audience of enthralled children, nugget after nugget - each recognisable from our own lives, each wholly unique to the man telling us the story. And all told with the same sense of whimsical wonder he brought to his novels.'Small Memories,' like most Saramago books, is not meant to be devoured in a single bite. Its scent should be breathed, its textures felt, its subtle flavors savored. Its words are meant to be sipped rather than gulped, appreciated for the details of a lifetime of observation, and once the glass is empty, remembered for the way they bring to life the wandering memories of an unforgettable individual.Jose Saramago was the finest of writers, and 'Small Memories' is one of his most memorable vintages."We often forget what we would like to remember, and yet certain images, words, flashes, illuminations repeatedly, obsessively return to us from the past at the slightest stimulus, and there's no explanation for that; we don't summon them up, they are simply there."