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• Published on: 1847
• Binding: Paperback

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26 of 27 people found the following review helpful.
"I came through, even without a name."
By Mary Whipple
As the book opens, an unnamed narrator has returned, after twenty years, to the small Italian village in which he grew up, alone and unloved. A foundling abandoned on the cathedral steps, the narrator was brought up, for a fee, by a destitute farmer, who treated him more like a workhorse than a person with a soul. Eventually escaping as a youth to the United States, he worked his way to California, but when an accidental fortune leaves him "rich, big, fat, and free," he returns to Gaminella, where he confronts the harsh memories of his childhood and the even harsher wartime events which traumatized the town after he left.In cold, realistic, and unemotional prose, the author alternates bleak memories of the boy who was always an outsider with his observations about his later life in the U.S. and his growing awareness of the atrocities that happened in Gaminella during the war. As the speaker reconnects with the characters from his past, particularly Nuto, a friend and musician, he notes the sameness of their days, their lack of hope, and the emptiness at the heart of their lives. The speaker has always believed that "a town means not being alone, knowing that in the people, the trees, the soil, there is something of yourself, that even when you're not there it stays and waits for you," a belief which acquires enormous irony as the town's collusion in events during and after the war become clear and as bodies mysteriously surface.In language which is both understated and rigidly controlled, Pavese creates a world as bleak and cold as the moon, a world of secrets, a world in which there seem to be no dreams. His detached, almost off-handed presentation of horrors sets them in high relief and heightens their impact. Only when Pavese describes the attraction of the speaker to his employer's two daughters do we get a feeling that there's a heart beating within him, yet he remembers his "place," something which makes the daughters' fates doubly affecting and ironic for the reader. The moon and the bonfires, men and the land, nature and spirit, and ultimately life and death all combine here in a story about a small town, and, Pavese points out, "one needs a town, if only for the pleasure of leaving it." Mary Whipple

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Spare but beautiful
By Dr R
This is the final book written by Cesare Pavese, 1908 – 50, published in the year of his suicide and translated by Louise Sinclair two years later. It is very easy in the 32 chapters to gloss over the beauty of the understated writing. Pavese was a poet and translator of American novels.Anguilla [‘Eel’] had been living in America for many years and has now, having made a pile of money [seemingly by illegal means], returned to his village in the Belbo valley in Northern Italy. The book describes his thoughts on returning after WW II and the memories of people and places that it elicits.At this time Italy is coming to terms with itself and scores are being settled between the very factions involved in the war. When two bodies are uncovered and identified as fascists who disappeared some years earlier it stimulates memories of the vicious fighting. Pavese makes his characters part of the rural landscape and vice versa. The poverty in which the central character and his friends eke out an existence is contrasted with the homes of local landowners and aristocracy. Whilst those who have not left the area, including Aguilla’s best friend Nuto, a communist, do not want to have to remember the torture and murder, the discovery of the bodies and Aguillar’s questioning and self-questioning fuels unrest.As a young boy Aguillar had been adopted by Padrino and his family whose life is hard in the extreme, ‘Padrino had died in great old age at Cossano, where they'd gone to spend their last years with a handful of coins they got from selling the hut, had died on the road where his daughters' husbands had thrown him.’ Aguillar revisits the hut where he spent his earliest days, meets Cinto, a crippled young boy, his aunt, grandmother and vicious father. Cinto reminds him of himself and wishes to pass on the benefits of his experience. Their relationship lacks any degree of sentimentality.Pavese contrasts the cramped, stony Italian countryside with the open plains of the American West where ‘There were women, there was land, there was money…..It wasn’t a country where you could resign yourself, rest your head and say to others “For better or worse, you know me. For better or worse, let me live.”’Pavese’s writing is spare but powerful as Aguillar unflinchingly examines the lives of those who remained in the village, whose lives were irrevocably changed by war [‘a lot of dogs unchained by their masters to murder each other and keep their masters in control’]. His descriptions of Aguillar’s life in America are vague compared to the very pointed descriptions and memories of his time in Italy as he wends his ways along tracks and roads that he knew as a child. At that time he was overlooked by everyone, now he is seen by all he meets as a successful businessman and returned son of the village.The most potent writing describes the past and present relationship between Aguilar and Nuto. As children this was uncomplicated, Nuto was confident, who travelled the region with his band playing the clarinet. He was the first to go to war and had experiences that Aguillar could only marvel at. After the war, married with children, Nuto realises that it is Aguillar who has achieved more whilst he worked as a carpenter like his father before him. There are arguments between them, simmering and expressed, originating from their very different political persuasions.Aguillar remains restless, rejecting opportunities to buy a home and settle and unable to commit himself to any lasting or deep relationship. Thinking of his rootlessness he casts his mind back to America, where ‘Maybe it is better that way, better for everything to go up in a bonfire of dry grass and for people to begin again. That was how it was in America--when you were sick of something, a job or a place, you changed it. Over there even whole towns, with taverns, city halls and stores, are as empty now as graveyards.’The title reflects superstitions of the region – bonfires have a power to ‘fatten’ the soil whilst waxing and waning of the moon improves its fruitfulness.

0 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
Lost in translation
By jd
Atmospheric acquired taste. Failed to resonate with me

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