All The Names - Jose Saramago

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guides' car and the hearse moved off, he did not move during the bare two minutes that the people lingered by the grave uttering useless words and wiping away the odd tear, he did not move when the two cars they had arrived in drove off across the bridge, he did not move until he was alone again. He took the number corresponding to the unknown woman and placed it on the new grave. Then he took the number from that one and placed it on the other grave. The exchange was made, the truth had become a lie. Besides, it might well be that the shepherd, finding a new grave there tomorrow, would unwittingly move the false number on it back to the unknown woman's grave, an ironic possibility in which the lie, apparendy repeating itself, would become true again. The workings of chance are infinite. Senhor José headed for home. On the way, he went into a cafe, where he ordered coffee and toast. He couldn't stave off hunger a moment longer.
... Determined to catch up on his lost sleep, Senhor José got into bed as soon as he arrived home, but only two hours later, he was awake again. He had had a strange, enigmatic dream in which he saw himself in the middle of the cemetery, amid a multitude of sheep so numerous that he could barely see the mounds of the graves, and each sheep had a number on its head that kept changing continually, but, because the sheep were all the same, you couldn't tell if it was the sheep that were changing numbers or if the numbers were changing sheep. He heard a voice shouting, I'm here, I'm here, it couldn't come from the sheep because they stopped talking a long time ago, nor could it be the graves because there is no record of a grave ever having spoken, and yet the voice kept calling insistently, I'm here, I'm here, Senhor José looked in that direction and saw only the raised snouts of the animals, then the same words rang out behind him, or to the right, or to the left, I'm here, I'm here, and he would turn swiftly, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Senhor José began to grow desperate, he wanted to wake up and he couldn't, the dream was continuing, now the shepherd was there with his dog, and Senhor José thought, There's nothing this shepherd doesn't know, he'll tell me whose voice it is, but the shepherd didn't speak, he just made a gesture with his crook above his head, the dog went to round up the sheep, herding them towards a bridge which was crossed by silent cars with signs made of lightbulbs that flickered on and off, saying Follow me, Follow me, Follow me, in a moment the flock disappeared, the dog disappeared, the shepherd disappeared, all that remained was the cemetery floor strewn with numbers, the ones that before had been on the heads of the sheep, but, because they were now all together, all attached end to end in an uninterrupted spiral of which he himself was the centre, he couldn't tell where one began and the other finished. Anxious, drenched in sweat, Senhor José woke up saying, I'm here. His eyes were closed, he was half-conscious, but he said, I'm here, I'm here, twice out loud, then opened his eyes to the mean little space where he had lived for so many years, he saw the low ceiling, the cracked plaster, the floor with its warped floorboards, the table and the two chairs in the middle of the living room, if such a term has meaning in a place like this, the cupboard where he kept the clippings and photos of his celebrities, the corner beyond which lay the kitchen, the narrow recess that served as a bathroom, that was when he said, I must find a way of freeing myself from this madness, he meant, obviously, the woman who would now forever be unknown, the house, poor thing, was not to blame, it was just a sad house. Fearful that the dream would return, Senhor José did not attempt to fall asleep again. He was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, waiting for it to ask him, Why are you looking at me, but the ceiling ignored him, it merely observed him, expressionless. Senhor José gave up any hope of help coming from there, he would have to resolve the problem on his own, and the best way would still be to persuade himself that there was no problem, When the beast dies, the poison dies with it, was the rather disrespectful proverb that came to his lips, calling the unknown woman a poisonous beast, forgetting for a moment there are poisons so slow-acting that they produce an effect only when we have long since forgotten their origin. Then the penny dropped, he muttered, Careful, death is often a slow poison, then he wondered, When and why did she begin to die. It was at that point that the ceiling, without there being any apparent connection, direct or indirect, with what it had just heard, emerged from its indifference to remind him, There are at least three people you haven't spoken to yet, Who, asked SenhorJosé, Her parents and her ex-husband, It wouldn't be a bad idea to go and talk to her parents, I thought of doing that earlier on, but I decided to leave it for another occasion, If you don't do it now, you never will, meanwhile you can divert yourself by going a little farther down this road, before you finally bump your nose against the wall, If you weren't a ceiling, stuck up there all the time, you would know that it has not been a diverting experience, But it has been a diversion, What's the difference, Go and look it up in the dictionary, that's what they're there for, I was
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ALL THE NAMES
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You know the name you were given, y
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eing born, are far less pressing, a
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... Apart from his first name, Jos
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Now, since Senhor José's obsession
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... Fortunately, there are not that
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and that he, as a responsible civil
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night's sleep, That's what I hope t
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hour of the night, What time was it
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ack to sleep, If she is the woman o
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and I've heard people say that she'
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inside jacket pocket, Senhor José
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love each other, you. love each oth
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... Such was the force of this blow
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it, Oh, enough of your hypocrisy, w
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... Contrary to what people might t
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his jacket pocket, he had been walk
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José was breathing hard, amazed at
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... Respect for the facts, and a si
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Senhor José's heart leapt to see t
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left the first-aid room, and althou
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himself up that staircase like a li
Page 47 and 48: ... The next morning, almost as soo
Page 49 and 50: were a gift, carrying a photo of so
Page 51 and 52: noticed the other man's surprise as
Page 53 and 54: firm steps approached the bed, then
Page 55 and 56: emained lying down for a few more m
Page 57 and 58: of which the deputy's key was merel
Page 59 and 60: sitting, he wasn't expecting him to
Page 61 and 62: thirteen small cardboard rectangles
Page 63 and 64: complete the movement, a sudden fee
Page 65 and 66: ed, hid the letter in the wardrobe,
Page 67 and 68: ... That night, Senhor José return
Page 69 and 70: to create its own shadows, what Sen
Page 71 and 72: prison, and over there, at the far
Page 73 and 74: ... The fact that psychological tim
Page 75 and 76: hold-up in the traffic was preventi
Page 77 and 78: feeble old woman, cretin, nincompoo
Page 79 and 80: the battles begin between heirs, th
Page 81 and 82: esponse, and she was perfectly righ
Page 83 and 84: aware of society's need for a conti
Page 85 and 86: ages, return to the world from whic
Page 87 and 88: to sell off strips of land, at othe
Page 89 and 90: Since he was known to the people th
Page 91 and 92: tombstones and forced up into the s
Page 93 and 94: question was in which direction. Se
Page 95 and 96: of earth which will soon be overgro
Page 97: that's sacred, Mr. Clerk, at least
Page 101 and 102: carefully, Go on, In order to clear
Page 103 and 104: a woman who looked about sixty or s
Page 105 and 106: ... Senhor José slept like a log.
Page 107 and 108: the headmaster, I didn't know that
Page 109 and 110: clerk can only do so much. With the
Page 111 and 112: driver announced, Here we are, Senh
Page 114 and 115: Reading Group Guide 1. How do the C
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All The Names - Jose Saramago

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