This certainly is one of the most unusual books that I've read within the last several years. The setting of this fable-type story is entirely vague and unspecified, as are many other details, which adds a surreal shading. It follows an aging potter, Cipriano Algor, his pregnant daughter, and her husband in an allegorical passage from a warm, pastoral cottage into a commercialized, cold, ultra-capitolistic urban center cryptically referred to as "The Center".

The humble protagonist, who has failed in his lifelong profession as a simple country potter, is forced to leave his home and follow his much beloved daughter into The Center because of her husband's occupation. Along with this we become deeply familiar with the characters and thier torn, ambivalent emotions. Upon arrival into The Center, Cipriano stumbles into a highly secret, underground phenomenon.

The story line itself is not very scintillating or gripping. You will not be glued to the book at 3 am with your heart racing. It is rather predictable and, if you have even the vaguest recollection of Plato's description of his famous cave, the parallels will be incredibly obvious. Also, it should be mentioned that Saramago has absolutely no regard for punctuation. There are sentences which take half a page, sometimes more. Moreover, the lack of quotation marks will leave you wondering whether a given passage is narrative, a line, or a thought.

That having been said, I thoroughly enjoyed this story. The beauty is not in the forest, but the trees. First of all, the language (or the translation thereof) is absolutely beautiful. The very unusual word choice is so touching and perfect. There are so many passages and reflections which are utterly wise and powerful. They project little portions of the human reality that we all know but either have never noticed or never examined with Saramago's tender and peculiar eye. The pages are sunk under miles of depth and understanding. Furthermore, the characters are so very real and, ultimately, you can nearly experience their love and commitment to one another, along with all the ambiguities and struggles the typify human relationships. They are captivating and memorable. Most surprising and enjoyable are the descriptions of Cipriano's dog, Found.

If you can accept the lackluster plot and gramatical anarchy, and can appreciate each sentence and each character as a solitary thing to be examined and admired, I highly recommend this book.

I look forward to reading "Blindness" next.

It is good to see that Jose Saramago is not willing to rest on his laurels after winning the Nobel Prize. This book is a beautiful and intricately written as Blindness and All the Names. As one who has read all of his books, I am astonised by his writing power. The key to savoring Saramago is to read very slowly, savoring every word and idea that appears.
This novel like All the Names addresses the challenge modern man has in connecting to other human beings in a world that is becoming increasingly homogenized,the confict between city and country, and the role of women and poor in the world.
The heart of this novel is one Cipriano Algor, a potter who loses an exclusive conract with the Center. The Center is Saramago's symbol for the globalized economy as in exist today. An economy that has widenened the gulf between the rich and the poor, and where one day can bring someone from subsitence to homelessness.
But Saramago does more than attack globalization. He creates vivid, living characters who struggle with age, who experience the ecstatic joy of creating ceramic figurines, who argue and make up, who are human and wholly believable.

In Book VII of his REPUBLIC, Plato observes in his allegory of the cave that the strangers imprisoned there "are just like us." This is also the central theme of Portugese writer, Jose Saramago's new, allegorical novel. Cipriano Algor is an aging potter who lives with his daughter, Marta, his son-in-law, Marcal, and a "very conscientious, sensitive . . . almost human" (p. 307) dog named Found outside The Center, an imposing complex of arcades, shops, staircases, escalators, cafes, terraces, movie theaters, discotheques, big-screen tvs, electronic games, billboards, mannequins, a church, a casino, a gymnasium, a roller coaster, and a zoo (p. 241). Marcal works there as a security guard, and Cipriano sells his earthenware pots and jugs there until he is told that they are "worthless." People prefer plastic. Cipriano decides to make ceramic dolls instead.

In his novel, Saramago's frequent allusions to Plato's cave transition from metaphorical to literal. After Marcal receives a promotion, Cipriano moves to The Center with his daughter and her husband, leaving Found behind. Cipriano soon discovers that, in The Center, residents actually prefer windows with a view of The Center itself, finding that view "much more pleasant" (p. 238). Some people, he learns, "never see the light of day" (p. 241). During excavation, Plato's cave is literally unearthed beneath The Center, containing six bodies imprisoned there with ropes, and "as if a metal spike had been put through their skulls to keep them fixed to the stone" (p. 292). When Plato's cave becomes a tourist attraction, Cipriano and his family leave The Center to "start a new life a long way from here" (p. 305).

Readers familiar with Plato's allegory of the cave will perhaps appreciate Saramago's novel most, although other readers who think there's more to existence than big city life and shopping malls will surely enjoy exploring this CAVE.

G. Merritt

This is an important book to understand some of the magical and animist conceptions that appear in the popular lives of the Basques. I would recommend this book to everyone, but specially to those that are interested in the history of European Witchcraft in general and Basque Witchcraft in particular. Barandiaran, the father of Basque anthropology, presents some of the aspects less known about Basque culture and tradition. Basque mythology provides an explanation for the witch-craze of the 16th and 17th centuries in Spain. This book presents the core of Basque culture that is its myths and folktales. It is a magical reading experience.

"A View from the Witch's Cave" is a great anthology of sixty-four folktales from the Spanish Basque Country. Collected between 1900 and 1956 by José Miguel de Barandiarán, the Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm of the Basque Country, they were published in Spanish translation in 1988. The stories are arranged into three sections: witty animal fables, tales about humans and witches, and "legends" that explain the origins of Basque folk-beliefs. As Barandiarán points out in his introduction, while these tales only form part of the "peripheral vision" of today's Basques, they encapsulate a lot of the ancient Basque folklife. Elements of the "old wisdom" have co-existed with Christianity for hundreds of years and allow us both to glimpse some of the Basque Country's unrecorded history and "piece together the spiritual physiognomy" of the ancient and early-modern Basques.

The book's English title and the previous customer review, though, are misleading. First, this is not entirely a book about witchcraft. Witches figure prominently in many of the stories, but the original Spanish title -- "Brief Anthology of Fables, Stories, and Legends from the Basque Country" -- was more accurate. Second, the subtitle, "Folktales of the Pyrenees", is also misleading. These tales come only from the Basque Country, not from Catalonia.

Still, it's a great anthology. The English translation by Linda White is expert. If you're interested in finding the tales in Spanish, check out the original version of the book (Editorial Txertoa, San Sebastián, 1988) or the excellent 12-volume series, "Cuentos y leyendas de la Euskal Herria fantástica" edited by José Dueso (ROGER, Donostia, 1998) in which many of the stories are reprinted almost verbatim.