In many ways, The Book of Disquiet is a very modern tome. The clerk Bernardo Soares dreams of escape to the country, but never does so because he loves the city so much. The Book of Disquiet hasn’t aged from the time of its composition, as there is little or nothing in the book that dates it. Every so often, there are startling moments of clarity, where Pessoa puts into words the thoughts and feelings that anyone else might not have dared write, such as Bernardo’s musings as to whether other people really exist. However, one does have to read through many pages of inconsequence before one comes across one of these oases of gold, and one can only agree with Bernardo when he writes that “These are my Confessions and if I say nothing in them it’s because I have nothing to say”. Bernardo later goes on to reiterate this point: “Just as some people work because they’re bored, I sometimes write because I have nothing to say”. This attitude can be quite frustrating for the reader, who will no doubt have many better things that they can be doing while reading the multitude of passages in which Bernardo is saying nothing. It would probably ruin the whole point of the book, but I suspect that Pessoa would be far more widely read if the passages in which he basically says nothing are excised from the book, to really promote the moments of brilliance… So, despite these fragmentary moments of genius, what other reason could explain the lavish praise that has been laid upon this book? No doubt such fans were the people that Pessoa was thinking of when he wrote towards the end “I sometimes think with sad pleasure that if, one day in… (the) future, these sentences that I write should meet with praise, I will at last have found people who ‘understand’ me”. This did indeed turn out to be the case, as Pessoa did rather miss out on his posthumous fame, and the praise lavished on him by his fellow authors. For The Book of Disquiet, is, in essence, a writer’s book due to Pessoa’s unflinching portrayal of the musings of one such writer, with all its inadequacies and glories.