#8 Issue: Things

Hello and welcome to the eighth issue of A Story for the Week!

The story of the week is “Things” by a Portuguese writer and Literature Nobel Prize winner, José Saramago.

If you’ve been following A Story for the Week since the very beginning, then you must have heard of Saramago already and (hopefully) read his Death with Interruptions. To be honest, that was the first book of his that I read and I loved it all so very much that I had to sink my teeth in a couple more of his works. This is exactly how I stumbled upon his collection of short stories “The Lives of Things.”

As the name suggests, the short story collection deals with things, objects, and their role in everyday life. Initially, I believed it would be narrated from the perspective of things, but Saramago just couldn’t give up his role of being the narrator. “The Lives of Things” features six stories, and his most notable work there is the story under the name “The Chair.” However, “Things” caught my eye since it has that Saramago flavor, that elaborate writing style with a splash of magical realism, and the overarching feeling of not knowing what’s coming next.

“Things” is told from the perspective of a civil servant who works at the Department of Special Requisitions, a department that deals with the procurement of special items for the citizens. The story starts off with them going to work and hurting their hand on the heavy entrance door. After that, we get to learn more about his daily work and see his after-work routine. However, as the story progresses our civil servant notices more and more of mundane everyday objects are simply gone. First the pillar-box, then a couple of steps from a stair, and then a large jug they barely used.

The government acknowledges that the objects, utensils, machines, and installations aren’t working properly and it is closely examining them, but it refuses to say that they are going missing. Civil servant’s neighbors have picked up on the fact that things are acting weird, but naturally, they are looking for a logical explanation—poor construction or installation.

However, as the civil servant goes out in the street, they notice the situation has only worsened—missing facades and streets, entire buildings collapsing and killing people, and people, scared to go back home and meet the same destiny, are wandering what’s left of the city. The government keeps on convincing the people that the situation is under control and nothing has gone missing. On top of that, it claims the enemy is among them, and it’s on citizens to find them.

In the end, it turns out the situation wasn’t under control, at all. In the end, the government decides to bombard the city, as more and more objects, utensils, machines, and installations have gone missing. I won’t reveal the ending, since I want you to read the story, but I’ll say one thing—the story stays true to its bizarre nature.

So, what’s so special about “Things,” outside its absurd main theme? First of all, Saramago uses and manipulates the language in a very classy manner, and I didn’t find one word too many in the entire text. The pacing is on the spot, and even though this is the longest story in the collection, you won’t ever find yourself jumping across the page, waiting for the next exciting bit.

On one hand, you can say this is just a story, just a thought experiment Saramago did. On the other, it makes you wonder what would happen in your world if your things started disappearing. Things (even though you might not call yourself a materialist) play a huge role in our everyday lives, from being simple utility items to identity-defining objects and mementos. We all own too many things, from pans meant just for pancakes to exfoliating shower gloves. How many of them do we really need? And how many of them are really just a distraction?

On top of that, we have started taking things for granted. If one thing breaks, whatever, we’ll just buy another one. And we do it without even thinking twice. So, we all end up with heaps and heaps of things we don’t or rarely use, but we want to have them, we need them for some unknown reason. It might be marketing, it might be fear of missing out, or just plain boredom.

In the end, I think Saramago is writing his stories as food for thought, as a way to inspire us to question even the most mundane aspects of our lives, like things. We are taught, conditioned, from birth that this is how the world works, but rarely do we stop and question why it works like that. “The Lives of Things” questions the most common of themes, things. So, it’s a really fun idea and a great exercise to try to think what would happen if your things started disappearing.

Instead of giving you a handful of quotes, this time, I’ll share with you one paragraph that will paint the picture for you perfectly:

“Evening was drawing in. There were lots of people in the street, but seemingly unaware of each other and silent. They were walking about aimlessly, without any apparent destination, extending their arms and showing the palms of their right hands. Viewed from the above, in that silence, the spectacle made him want to laugh: arms going up and down, white hands branded with green letters gave a quick wave and then dropped, only to repeat the movement a few paces further on. They were like mental patients driven by some idée fixe as they paraded the grounds of the asylum.”

Once again, thank you for subscribing to my newsletter and helping me achieve my dream of becoming a stay-at-home writer. Your support means the world to me and, honestly, it gives me a reason to continue doing this.

If you enjoyed the read, consider subscribing, reading more articles on Medium, and supporting me on LinkedIn and X.