The trouble with magic-realism writing is that the beautifully langorous sentences can take forever to read. If not balanced just right the sprawl can become quite suffocating and a battle to get through. Luckily, Saramago mostly gets it right, and whilst I did make slow progress at times, I very much enjoyed the novel. At around 200 pages it feels just the right length to keep it streamlined and prevent it getting bogged down. There's a lot of interesting themes and ideas in here but the book particularly shines when it zooms in during the second half to focus on death and her escapee. The interactions and thoughts of death are beautiful, and I don't think I can recall a more tender, warm and fragile incarnation of her/the concept. This book is likely to stay with me for a long time.