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A hundred pages into this sequel to 1998's Blindness, you get this: ''[T]he narrator of this fable has paid scant, not to say non-existent, attention to the place in which the action described, albeit in rather leisurely fashion, is taking place.'' The fact that José Saramago hereby winks at Seeing's limitations its vagueness, its rambling only makes them more grating. It's set in the same metaphor-prone town that was swept by an epidemic of blindness in the earlier book. When most election-day voters cast blank ballots, the government first deserts the city, then orders an investigation. There may be a political allegory in there somewhere, but the Portuguese Nobel winner's storytelling is so hazy that it's hard to see the point.


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