It's hard to say anything about this book. it's a book that you must read at a certain point, or points, in your life. For me, it's like a cup of cocoa, a nightcap, an antidote. At other times (the wrong times), it's like a suicide pact, a kiss goodbye - all the most pointless thoughts I ever had, justified. This isn't a book to read from beginning to end. That would not work. Instead, it sneaks into ones' subconciousness,twisting and dragging you down(if that is the state the reader is verging on) or up(if that is the state the reader is aiming for). Within all its' 'disquiet', I found an affirmation of life, that, despite all the protestations of the futility of everything, hje still found the time to write. He still found the desire to spread the message that undoubtably, he felt he had to say. And this is where the negativity loses its' push. This is where we find the true Pessoa. He did not want you think that you wanted to die. He did not want you to think that life was futile.He did not want you to go down. All he wanted was for people to see the other side of the fence. The side you are afraid to even LOOK over. Although a consistantly ignored writer as far as English speaking readers are concerned,his desperation of the human state remains universal. So does mine; but at least he's made me laugh at it.