Contents ( 92)
- Introduced, edited and with selected translations by Jhumpa Lahiri
- Contents
- About the Author
- A Note on the Citation of Titles and Their Translations
- Introduction
- Elio Vittorini
- Name and Tears
- Giovanni Verga
- Picturesque Lives
- Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
- The Siren
- Antonio Tabucchi
- Against Time
- Italo Svevo
- Generous Wine
- Leonardo Sciascia
- The Long Voyage
- Alberto Savinio
- Bago
- Umberto Saba
- The Hen
- Lalla Romano
- The Lady
- Fabrizia Ramondino
- The Tower
- Luigi Pirandello
- The Trap
- Cesare Pavese
- Wedding Trip
- Goffredo Parise
- Melancholy
- Aldo Palazzeschi
- Silence
- Anna Maria Ortese
- A Pair of Eyeglasses
- Alberto Moravia
- The Other Side of the Moon
- Elsa Morante
- The Ambitious Ones
- Giorgio Manganelli
- Sixteen, Twenty-one, Twenty-eight and Thirty-seven from Centuria
- Primo Levi
- Quaestio de Centauris
- Tommaso Landolfi
- Gogol’s Wife
- Natalia Ginzburg
- My Husband
- Carlo Emilio Gadda
- The Mother
- Ennio Flaiano
- A Martian in Rome
- Beppe Fenoglio
- The Smell of Death
- Luce D’eramo
- Life as a Couple
- Antonio Delfini
- The Milliner
- Grazia Deledda
- The Hind
- Alba De Céspedes
- Invitation to Dinner
- Silvio D’arzo
- Elegy for Signora Nodier
- Fausta Cialente
- Malpasso
- Carlo Cassola
- At the Station
- Cristina Campo
- The Golden Nut
- Italo Calvino
- Dialogue with a Tortoise
- Dino Buzzati
- And Yet They Are Knocking at Your Door
- Massimo Bontempelli
- The Miraculous Beach, or, Prize for Modesty
- Romano Bilenchi
- A Geographical Error
- Luciano Bianciardi
- The Streetwalker
- Anna Banti
- Miss
- Giovanni Arpino
- The Baboon
- Corrado Alvaro
- Barefoot
- Notes
- Chronology
- Further Reading
- Acknowledgements
- Copyright Information
- About the Translators
- THE BEGINNING
I protested weakly: ‘I haven’t understood many of the things you’ve said, but I’ve always attributed my incomprehension to the inadequacy of my own mind, never to an aberration of yours.’
‘Don’t worry, Corbera, it doesn’t matter. All of us old people seem crazy to you young people, and often in fact the opposite is true. To explain myself, however, I’ll have to tell you about my adventure, an uncommon one. It happened when I was “that young gentleman there,” and he pointed at his photograph. ‘I have to go back to 1887, a time that will seem prehistoric to you but is not for me.’
He moved from his place behind the desk and came to sit down beside me on the same couch. ‘Pardon me, but from now on I’ll have to speak in a low voice. Important words cannot be bellowed; the “cry of love” or hate is to be found only in melodrama or among the most uncultivated people, which comes to the same thing in the end. In 1887, then, I was twenty-four years old; I looked like the person in that photograph. I already had my degree in ancient literature and had published two articles on Ionic dialects that had caused a certain stir in my university; and for the previous year I’d been preparing for a competition for a post at the University of Pavia. Also, I had never known a woman. As a matter of fact, I have never known women either before or after that year.’ I was sure that my face had remained stonily impassive, but I was deceived. ‘Your eyelash fluttering is very ill-mannered, Corbera. What I say is the truth – the truth and a boast. I know that we Catanesi are held to be capable of impregnating our own nannies, and that may even be true. Not in my case, however. When one passes one’s days and nights with goddesses and demigoddesses, as I did during that period, there remains little desire to climb the stairs of the brothels of San Berillo. At the time I was also held back by religious scruples. Corbera, you really should learn to control your eyelashes; they betray you constantly. Yes, I said religious scruples. I also said “at the time.” Now I no longer have them; but they were worthless in any case.