Fresh old tale

ASPIRING novelists of any age can take heart from the example of Jose Saramago, the Portuguese novelist who won the Nobel Prize for Literature a couple of years ago. He became a full-time writer only at the age of 57, and had to wait until he was 66 before he won worldwide acclaim with the publication of Balthasar And Blimunda. And of course he won the Nobel at the age of 76. Living proof then that some novelists get better with age.

If he had not received the Nobel, I doubt I would have ever heard of Saramago, but since then I have read a lot of his work, always with the deepest enjoyment and admiration - Balthasar And Blimunda, a sublime love story, but a lot else besides, The Year Of the Death Of Ricardo Reis and The History Of The Siege Of Lisbon. Saramago likes to write big meaty novels which was why his latest offering, The Tale Of The Unknown Island (Harvill) piqued my curiosity.

It is a slim book and it is told in the form of an allegory, shorn of the imagery and inventiveness that the novelist is well- known for. It starts in the classical manner, "A man went to knock at the king's door and said, Give me a boat". The effrontery of the request upsets the king who is anyway more interested in receiving than giving (he spends most of his time hanging out next to the door for favours offered to him rather than by the door for petitions) and he refuses to see the man. Undaunted, the petitioner decides to go on dharna (contemporary Portugal seems to have a lot in common with us). You would think that the king would ignore him, especially as the man at the door is blocking entry to other importunate supplicants, but this king did not get to be king by doing the obvious. He figures that if he does not give the man a hearing, his protest might snowball into large-scale social unrest which would be infinitely more vexatious.

And so the king meets the petitioner and asks him why he wants a boat. The answer annoys him, for the man says he wants the boat so he can discover unknown islands. "Nonsense, there are no more unknown islands," the king says. But he persists and the king grants him a boat more to get him out of the way than anything else (the other bystanders have begun to side with the man).

The man hurries away to the docks to get his boat from the harbour master, whom the king has authorised to hand over a seaworthy boat. Unknown to him, the cleaning lady at the palace who has overheard the conversation - and has decided that she would rather crew a boat and give herself the chance of discovering unknown islands than spend a lifetime in servitude - has followed him to the docks. The would-be discoverer of islands gets his boat but then finds that no one will sign on as his crew because they already have secure jobs and responsibilities and have lost their edge not to put too fine a point on it.

At this point the cleaning woman offers to join him. When the man protests that she has no experience of sailing, she is quick to point out that neither has he. He has no choice but to accept her (it helps that she is comely) and somewhat dejectedly they turn in for the night. They toss and turn in their separate berths, disillusioned that their great adventure appears to be in danger of running aground before it has even begun.

When sleep finally hits them, the man begins to dream. He dreams of the ship's sails taut in the wind as he heads for distant shores, fully provisioned and with a willing crew. The Tale Of An Unknown Island is about his dreaming state and its aftermath.

This is a charming fable about the need for all of us to step out of our quotidian lives to truly know ourselves and the world we live in. An old story that has had many tellers but Saramago invests it with a freshness and vitality that is quite enchanting. As a bonus, the book is so beautifully produced and designed that it will make an excellent gift.

DAVID DAVIDAR

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