VOICES IN THE EVENING

In the shadow of World War II, a young couple explores their feelings for one another.

In this short but very affecting novel, originally published in English in 1963, characters speak of trivialities. “What a fine head of hair he has, at that age!” Elsa’s mother tells her as, walking home, they pass a neighbor. “Did you notice how ugly the dog has become?” Neither Elsa’s mother nor anyone else in their small Italian village knows that Elsa has fallen in love with Tommasino, the youngest child of Balotta, the old factory owner. The book takes a looser structure than Ginzburg’s others. Elsa and Tommasino bookend the story with their affair, but the middle is taken up by an account of Tommasino’s siblings and their spouses: Purillo, the adopted cousin who takes over their father’s factory; long-faced Gemmina; dreamy Vincenzino; and Mario, who marries Xenia, a Russian who speaks French but no Italian and so cannot converse with anyone in the village. What all these lives have to do with one another doesn’t become clear until the end. What is clear is that there is a darker current running beneath all the trivialities. During the war, Purillo sympathized with the fascists, an affectation for which the others mocked him. Nebbia, a friend, was killed behind the house. “I have the feeling,” Tommasino tells Elsa near the end, “that they have already lived enough, those others before me; that they have already consumed all the reserves, all the vitality that there was for us….Nothing was left over for me.” Rarely does Ginzburg directly address politics—fascism, in particular—but its shadow hangs over the book just like it hangs over the characters. The result is profound and profoundly moving.

As deceptively diffuse as it is meticulously observed, Ginzburg’s novel is a gem.