Borges and Saramago sat at a small table in the corner of the dimly lit tavern, sipping glasses of red wine and striking up a lively conversation.
“You know, Jorge,” Saramago began, “I’ve always found the figure of Don Quixote fascinating. His not surrender to the Zeitgeist, his nobility of mind and stubbornness in carrying on his battles, even paying dearly for them. I have often thought of rewriting his story more modernly.”
Borges nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “I, too, have been working on a similar idea for some time.
A rereading Dante’s Divine Comedy, I love the literary form of his journey and the ability to observe and describe the society of the time with a critical eye, taking a stand.
But I imagine him with a guide with a more dynamic and contemporary approach, less contemplative and bucolic, more curious and proactive.”
Saramago leaned forward, curious. “Continues.”
“What if we had Socrates as our guide instead of Virgil? A man of knowledge and wisdom, but also humility and reason.”
Saramago’s face lit up. “I like it. What if we write this book together, a collaboration between us?”
Borges smiled. “I think it would be an adventure, a journey of passions, discoveries and battles, led by the great philosopher Socrates.”