Remarkable stories from a wide range of writers describe the mundane and the fantastic, the everyday and the sublime.
An anthology of 20th-century Italian literature.
Thanks largely to Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels, Italian literature has been experiencing a kind of renaissance in the United States. That makes this a propitious time for the release of a new anthology, edited by Lahiri (In Other Words, 2016, etc.), of Italian short stories in translation. Some of the names included here, like Primo Levi and Italo Calvino, will be familiar to American readers; others, like Elio Vittorini and Leonardo Sciascia, may be less so. In Levi’s “Quaestio de Centauris,” a centaur falls desperately in love with a human girl. In Sciascia’s “The Long Voyage,” a group of Sicilians pay 250,000 lire each to be ferried to America and are surprised to find themselves, in the end, somewhere else. In her introduction, Lahiri explains her criteria for the selections included here: She wanted “a wealth of styles, and a range of voices,” and no living authors (nothing by Ferrante here). She’s also made a concerted effort to include stories written by women. Writers like Elsa Morante and Natalia Ginzburg, whose books have recently been reissued in English, have been receiving increased attention; their stories, here, are a delight to read. There’s also a wonderful story, “Generous Wine,” by Italo Svevo, in which a man who has been ordered by his doctor to diet and abstain from drinking goes to a wedding and partakes, liberally, of everything. “I ate and drank,” he says, “not out of hunger or thirst but out of eagerness for freedom. Each bite, each sip, had to be a declaration of independence.” Later, of course, he’s filled with regret. Taken one by one, each story in this volume is a jewel. Taken all together, the book is a remarkable introduction to Italian literature and a great gift to the English-speaking reader.
Remarkable stories from a wide range of writers describe the mundane and the fantastic, the everyday and the sublime.Pub Date: Sept. 10, 2019
ISBN: 978-0-241-29983-8
Page Count: 528
Publisher: Penguin
Review Posted Online: June 16, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2019
The Brat Pack meets The Bacchae in this precious, way-too-long, and utterly unsuspenseful town-and-gown murder tale. A bunch of ever-so-mandarin college kids in a small Vermont school are the eager epigones of an aloof classics professor, and in their exclusivity and snobbishness and eagerness to please their teacher, they are moved to try to enact Dionysian frenzies in the woods. During the only one that actually comes off, a local farmer happens upon them—and they kill him. But the death isn't ruled a murder—and might never have been if one of the gang—a cadging sybarite named Bunny Corcoran—hadn't shown signs of cracking under the secret's weight. And so he too is dispatched. The narrator, a blank-slate Californian named Richard Pepen chronicles the coverup. But if you're thinking remorse-drama, conscience masque, or even semi-trashy who'll-break-first? page-turner, forget it: This is a straight gee-whiz, first-to-have-ever-noticed college novel—"Hampden College, as a body, was always strangely prone to hysteria. Whether from isolation, malice, or simple boredom, people there were far more credulous and excitable than educated people are generally thought to be, and this hermetic, overheated atmosphere made it a thriving black petri dish of melodrama and distortion." First-novelist Tartt goes muzzy when she has to describe human confrontations (the murder, or sex, or even the ping-ponging of fear), and is much more comfortable in transcribing aimless dorm-room paranoia or the TV shows that the malefactors anesthetize themselves with as fate ticks down. By telegraphing the murders, Tartt wants us to be continually horrified at these kids—while inviting us to semi-enjoy their manneristic fetishes and refined tastes. This ersatz-Fitzgerald mix of moralizing and mirror-looking (Jay McInerney shook and poured the shaker first) is very 80's—and in Tartt's strenuous version already seems dated, formulaic. Les Nerds du Mal—and about as deep (if not nearly as involving) as a TV movie.
Pub Date: Sept. 16, 1992
ISBN: 1400031702
Page Count: 592
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1992
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
A modern day fable, with modern implications in a deceiving simplicity, by the author of Dickens. Dali and Others (Reynal & Hitchcock, p. 138), whose critical brilliance is well adapted to this type of satire. This tells of the revolt on a farm, against humans, when the pigs take over the intellectual superiority, training the horses, cows, sheep, etc., into acknowledging their greatness. The first hints come with the reading out of a pig who instigated the building of a windmill, so that the electric power would be theirs, the idea taken over by Napoleon who becomes topman with no maybes about it. Napoleon trains the young puppies to be his guards, dickers with humans, gradually instigates a reign of terror, and breaks the final commandment against any animal walking on two legs. The old faithful followers find themselves no better off for food and work than they were when man ruled them, learn their final disgrace when they see Napoleon and Squealer carousing with their enemies... A basic statement of the evils of dictatorship in that it not only corrupts the leaders, but deadens the intelligence and awareness of those led so that tyranny is inevitable. Mr. Orwell's animals exist in their own right, with a narrative as individual as it is apt in political parody.
Pub Date: Aug. 26, 1946
ISBN: 0452277507
Page Count: 114
Publisher: Harcourt, Brace
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 1946
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