A review by inkedverses
The Blind Owl by Sadegh Hedayat

dark tense

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? No
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.75

Full review soon?

I honestly still can't wrap my head around this book. It's grim, unsettling, and full of dark, recursive imagery that pulls and disorients you into a psychological descent alongside the narrator. For now, all I can say is this book doesn't merely show, it also consumes.

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“The presence of death annihilates all superstitions. We are the children of death and it is death that rescues us from the deceptions of life. In the midst of life he calls us and summons us to him. At an age when we have not yet learnt the language of men, if at times we pause in our play it is that we may listen to the voice of death…”

Ever read a book that plunges you into an unsettling psychotic and opium-like break that you have to take a deep breath, pace around your room for a few minutes, and question your life decisions on why you chose a book that seems like a portal to madness? Such is The Blind Owl by Sadegh Hedayat, a fever dream of a book dipped in despair and served with a side of existential dread.

Considered as an important work in modern Iranian literature, The Blind Owl is a work of profound psychological horror and existential exploration. The narrative unfolds in two distinct parts, each a descent into the unnamed narrator's fractured psyche. The first section, a feverish, opium-fueled vision, introduces us to the narrator's obsession with a mysterious woman, whose image is glimpsed through a hole in his wall. This figure is a symbol that becomes the focal point of his tormented existence. The second part, seemingly a continuation or perhaps a distorted reflection of the first, delves further into the narrator's past, revealing a cycle of violence, betrayal, and self-destruction. Hedayat masterfully manipulates time and space, blurring the lines between reality and hallucination.

“My heart had always been at odds not only with my body but with my mind, and there was absolutely no compatibility between them. I had always been in a state of decomposition and gradual disintegration.”

Hedayat crafts a narrative that mirrors the narrator's fragmented mental state. The story is told through a series of non-linear, often surreal passages, blurring the lines between dream and reality. We're plunged into the narrator's internal world, forced to grapple with his distorted perceptions and unsettling visions. I noticed that repetition is a key literary device used throughout the novel. Certain images, phrases, and motifs recur, creating a sense of obsessive fixation and reinforcing the narrator's descent into madness. The constant return to the image of the woman and the old man, the recurring descriptions of death and decay, and the cyclical nature of the narrative itself all contribute to a sense of inescapable torment. The repetition of phrases like "I saw..." or "I remember..." underscores the narrator's unreliable memory and his struggle to distinguish between reality and unreality.

This book is not for casual consumption. And definitely not something one should read during the brink of emotional instability. Full of bleak and unrelenting prose, I did struggle to finish The Blind Owl. It was for me, too disorienting. Too claustrophobic. However, the narrator's psychological disintegration is both mesmerizing and deeply disturbing that I found myself constantly questioning the nature of reality and the human capacity for despair. I have no idea what draws me to books like this. Is it the satisfaction of witnessing a man's psyche unravel under the toils of isolation and self-destruction? Or is it the unflinching exploration of the dark recesses of the human mind that borders on madness and obsession? Anyhow, this book brings a different kind of horror, a horror of existential dread and psychological claustrophobia.