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Dewey Decimal Number: 869.342 EAN: 9780786218349 Format: Large Print ISBN: 0786218347 Label: Thorndike Press Manufacturer: Thorndike Press Number Of Items: 1 Number Of Pages: 540 Publication Date: 1999-05 Publisher: Thorndike Press Studio: Thorndike Press Editorial Review: Product Description: A city is hit by an epidemic of 'white blindness' which spares no one. Authorities confine the blind to an empty mental hospital, but there the criminal element holds everyone captive, stealing food rations and raping women. There is one eyewitness to this nightmare who guides seven strangers-among them a boy with no mother, a girl with dark glasses, a dog of tears-through the barren streets, and the procession becomes as uncanny as the surroundings are harrowing. A magnificent parable of loss and disorientation and a vivid evocation of the horrors of the twentieth century, Blindness has swept the reading public with its powerful portrayal of man's worst appetites and weaknesses-and man's ultimately exhilarating spirit. The stunningly powerful novel of man's will to survive against all odds, by the winner of the 1998 Nobel Prize for Literature Amazon.com Review: In an unnamed city in an unnamed country, a man sitting in his car waiting for a traffic light to change is suddenly struck blind. But instead of being plunged into darkness, this man sees everything white, as if he 'were caught in a mist or had fallen into a milky sea.' A Good Samaritan offers to drive him home (and later steals his car); his wife takes him by taxi to a nearby eye clinic where they are ushered past other patients into the doctor's office. Within a day the man's wife, the taxi driver, the doctor and his patients, and the car thief have all succumbed to blindness. As the epidemic spreads, the government panics and begins quarantining victims in an abandoned mental asylum--guarded by soldiers with orders to shoot anyone who tries to escape. So begins Portuguese author José Saramago's gripping story of humanity under siege, written with a dearth of paragraphs, limited punctuation, and embedded dialogue minus either quotation marks or attribution. At first this may seem challenging, but the style actually contributes to the narrative's building tension, and to the reader's involvement. In this community of blind people there is still one set of functioning eyes: the doctor's wife has affected blindness in order to accompany her husband to the asylum. As the number of victims grows and the asylum becomes overcrowded, systems begin to break down: toilets back up, food deliveries become sporadic; there is no medical treatment for the sick and no proper way to bury the dead. Inevitably, social conventions begin to crumble as well, with one group of blind inmates taking control of the dwindling food supply and using it to exploit the others. Through it all, the doctor's wife does her best to protect her little band of blind charges, eventually leading them out of the hospital and back into the horribly changed landscape of the city. Blindness is in many ways a horrific novel, detailing as it does the total breakdown in society that follows upon this most unnatural disaster. Saramago takes his characters to the very edge of humanity and then pushes them over the precipice. His people learn to live in inexpressible filth, they commit acts of both unspeakable violence and amazing generosity that would have been unimaginable to them before the tragedy. The very structure of society itself alters to suit the circumstances as once-civilized, urban dwellers become ragged nomads traveling by touch from building to building in search of food. The devil is in the details, and Saramago has imagined for us in all its devastation a hell where those who went blind in the streets can never find their homes again, where people are reduced to eating chickens raw and packs of dogs roam the excrement-covered sidewalks scavenging from corpses. And yet in the midst of all this horror Saramago has written passages of unsurpassed beauty. Upon being told she is beautiful by three of her charges, women who have never seen her, 'the doctor's wife is reduced to tears because of a personal pronoun, an adverb, a verb, an adjective, mere grammatical categories, mere labels, just like the two women, the others, indefinite pronouns, they too are crying, they embrace the woman of the whole sentence, three graces beneath the falling rain.' In this one woman Saramago has created an enduring, fully developed character who serves both as the eyes and ears of the reader and as the conscience of the race. And in Blindness he has written a profound, ultimately transcendent meditation on what it means to be human. --Alix Wilber Related Items:      see moreAverage Rating:
 Rating:  - there's more to humanity than miserySaramago's writing style is compelling, both he & his translator are/were(in case of Pontiero) craftsmen of a high order. Unfortunately I believe the book suffers from a flat imagination of what blindness (even sudden mass blindness) entails, and brings out all of the worst that human beings are capable of. The metaphor of our many blindnesses and the chronic ignorance that plagues our society only carried me so far in terms of willingness to endure extremes in human misery. I finished this book hungry for an uplifting view of humanity - something to counter-act the misery of the last few days of reading. I was also sorely disappointed by the ending which seemed to reflect the author's desire to stop showing us this world, rather than a well crafted story arc. Rating:  - Book In Perfect Condition With Prompt DeliveryI was very satisfied with my purchase of this book because it was in perfect condition and it was delivered in a prompt manner. Rating:  - Too SavageHorrific read and too graphic for my taste. Our book group did this book and many could not read beyond the first 100 pages. Rating: - the white sicknessOnly an author of Nobel stature could create such a compelling story about such a bleak situation. In this unnamed place, the blind citizens are reduced to short descriptions, no names. They are written of as an image perhaps the last image someone had of them before blindness struck. Here is the girl with the dark glasses, the first blind man, the boy with the squint. Readers go on a journey with a small group of blind people ho have banded in an attempt at survival in a world where their main sensory input is removed. Because we never know where we are and we have limited visual input, the author has made it easier for the reader to feel blinded. Blindness is terrifying yet compelling we. The book begins with a situation of horror then moves to another horror and yet another. The blind people fend for themselves both poorly and well. This is not cheap sensationalist horror. This is a thought- provoking horror that speaks to the human condition and its fragility but like a spider web, it has tremendous strength. The writer uses scant punctuation. Once the reader gets the rhythm of the story, it will flow - no punctuation needed. Blindness is a challenging read. It is not a lightweight beach book. Blindness starts with a mystery and ends with another equal mystery. For a while, the reader is dehumanized and essentially blind Rating: - Very strong and disturbing storyThis book definetely will bring up a reaction from its readers. The narration style gives the impression that the reader is watching the story evolve in front of them, a clever approach given the subject. The part of the story which takes place in the hospital is very disturbing and strong. I was disappointed with the ending, did not expect a positive ending given the tone of the story, and wonder why the author decided to go in that direction. I recommend the book, but be forewarned about how strong the content is. |
Filed under: Car Buying, Etc., Green
Diesel vehicles have nearly a 50-percent market share in Europe, thanks to tax incentives and diesel-friendly legislation across the EU. Diesels are so passé there that you can buy a BMW 730d and no one will think it odd that your luxury car burns oil. Pull up in a diesel 7-Series in America and people would leer at you like you've alighted from an amphibious vehicle reeking of saltwater and dead trout.
But now, thanks to the oft-reported combo of newly-raised CAFE standards, not-so-newly-raised gas prices, and the 50-state diesel engine, GM, Ford, and Chrysler are about to dip more than a hesitant toe into the diesel game. Chrysler offers a diesel in the Grand Cherokee, but soon all three automakers will offer diesels in their best-selling lineups of light trucks -- the Dodge Ram 1500 is expected to offer a 50-state diesel after 2009. Light trucks are being used to lead the charge since those buyers stand to gain the most with the least amount of (perceived) sacrifice.
Diesels currently have 3.2-percent of the American market. Some estimates put them at 15-percent by 2015. That's a huge leap, and diesel still has plenty of hurdles. Diesels will come with a cost premium over gasoline-engined cars. That should be easy enough to conquer -- incentives and some quick cost and longevity calculations should convince people of the benefit. The real hurdle is the nagging issue of perception. The plan will probably be to attack that with a price that makes the proposition unbeatable. Said Chrysler's director of environmental affairs, "If it's priced right, we can sell diesel here. Diesel can give you an immediate poke in fuel economy -- 20 to 40 percent. Not many technologies can deliver that today."
[Source: Detroit News]
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Three of them date from the '20s and '30s and were produced by Samuel Goldwyn. The 1926 silent The Winning of Barbara Worth gave Western stunt man and bit player Cooper his first featured role (by accident--the actor originally cast didn't report for work!). A cowboy whose visionary surveyor father aims to "redeem the desert and make it one fine garden," Cooper's character is the third corner of a romantic triangle, ordained by the Hollywood caste system to lose lifelong sweetheart Vilma Banky to engineer Ronald Colman. Colman has lots more screen time than Cooper and bears the moral-ethical brunt of the eco-conscious drama; he's also surprisingly persuasive wearing a sweat-stained Stetson and trading gunshots with the bad guys (if this were a sound film, Colman could never have gotten away with it). But the camera and the audience are locked onto Cooper whenever he's on screen. In longshot or vulnerable closeup, he's already one of the gods of the cinema. As for the movie, the quality of the print is excellent, its clarity intensified by bronze, yellow, and moonlit-blue tinting that often seems on the verge of resolving into full color. Director Henry King shows a good eye for action and bold vistas, and a visual adventurousness mostly absent from his later work.
Next up chronologically is The Cowboy and the Lady (1938), and the best thing about this misbegotten movie is Garson Kanin's description, in one of his Hollywood memoirs, of how Leo McCarey sold the idea for it to Sam Goldwyn. McCarey was, of course, a comedic master (recently Oscared for directing The Awful Truth), and his exuberant pitch convinced Goldwyn and his staffers that audiences would "piss" themselves laughing at this romantic comedy about a daughter of privilege (Merle Oberon) who falls for a rodeo rider (Cooper) and learns homespun values. Goldwyn paid McCarey off, assigned some writers to the script, then realized there was no real story--"no there there," as Gertrude Stein might have put it. The resultant unfunny and unromantic endeavor oozes bad faith from every pore, with neck-snapping life changes foisted on the hapless Cooper and Oberon from reel to reel, and excruciating scenes (jitterbugging in a drawing room, playing house back on Cooper's ranch) that strain charmlessly for McCarey's patented brand of fey. H.C. Potter directed, understandably without conviction.
We and Cooper are back on track with The Real Glory (1939). The reliable Henry Hathaway helmed this second cousin to his and Cooper's The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, with Cooper as an Army doctor assigned to the Philippine Constabulary on Mindanao in 1906. The movie was well-received when it came out; encountered in the shadow of the Iraq War, its tale of U.S. occupiers trying to help the local populace "stand up" against a fanatical and murderous insurgency takes on new fascination. There are some amazing passages--two horrendous murders by bolo knife--and the final battle sequence puts the CGI-riddled action films of the present day to shame. But the most impressive element is Cooper, and we can't improve on the verdict of that astute film critic Graham Greene: "Mr. Cooper ... has never acted better.... Watch him inoculate [Andrea King] against cholera--the casual jab of the needle, and the dressing slapped on while he talks, as though a thousand arms had taught him where to stab and he doesn't have to think any more."
For the final film in the set we jump into the '50s--the century's and Cooper's. Vera Cruz (1954) casts him as a former Confederate officer who's ridden into Emperor Maximilian's Mexico, hoping to make a fortune in the new civil war south of the border so that he can rebuild his own devastated homeland. Costar Burt Lancaster (whose company Hecht-Lancaster was producing) plays another mercenary, a real sociopath, and it's fascinating to watch these two stellar icons of very different Hollywood eras make common cause--Lancaster at the height of his grinning-predator mode, Cooper an aging knight whose aim is still true. Director Robert Aldrich keeps finding dynamic uses for the SuperScope format and flavorfully fills it with sublime uglies like Ernest Borgnine, Jack Elam, Charles Horvath, Jack Lambert, and Charles Buchinsky-about-to-become-Bronson. Pieces of this movie found their way into the dreams of Sam Peckinpah and Sergio Leone. --Richard T. Jameson
