The Book Of Disquiet - Extraordinary Classics



Author: Fernando Pessoa - 1995
Publisher: Serpents Tail
Format: Paperback
ISBN: 9781852422042
£9.50 + p&p. (total: £13.45)

Condition: Good
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The Book of Disquiet – Extraordinary Classics (1995) by Fernando Pessoa — Condition: Good (Crappy Old Books)

The Book of Disquiet is exactly what it says on the cover: a book, and disquiet. Fernando Pessoa, Portugal’s reigning master of existential daydreaming, produced this strange and shimmering non-novel that reads like a diary kept by a man who never quite existed, or existed too much. First published in fits and fragments, it is a kaleidoscope of thoughts, aphorisms, and melancholic doodles from Pessoa’s heteronym Bernardo Soares, an assistant bookkeeper who spends his life cataloguing the ache of being alive in Lisbon while hardly ever leaving his desk.

This 1995 Serpent’s Tail Extraordinary Classics edition (ISBN: 9781852422042) brings you straight into that fog of luminous sadness where nothing happens, and yet everything happens. One moment Soares muses about the weight of dreams, the next he marvels at a puddle in the street, and then—bam!—he declares existence itself a peculiar mistake. It’s the kind of book you dip into like a box of cryptic chocolates: every piece is bittersweet, and some will lodge in your teeth for years.

As for the copy: it’s from Crappy Old Books, and the condition is “Good”—our friendly euphemism for “it’s been around the block, possibly brooded on a few windowsills, and may bear the faint perfume of other people’s insomnia.” Expect gentle scuffing, a whisper of page tanning, maybe a crease or two that looks like Pessoa himself pressed a sigh into the paper. The binding is still sturdy, the text clear, and the overall aura wonderfully lived-in—just the way Pessoa would have liked it, because shiny newness never suited existential ennui anyway.

In short: this is not just a book, it’s a portable Lisbon café table for your soul. Buy it if you’ve ever stared at a cracked ceiling and thought, “ah, yes, I too am a fragmentary being scribbling notes on the futility of things.” Good condition, great book, gorgeously disquieting.

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