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3.32 AVERAGE
3.32 AVERAGE
se inizialmente l'ho trovato ostico, da oggi che ho deciso di finirlo mi sono dovuta ricredere - mi ha piacevolmente coinvolto, cosa che non mi ha troppo sorpresa (aspettavo il momento giusto in cui la scrittura e il mondo che Svevo presenta mi avrebbero fatto scattare la passione)
emotional
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Emilio Brentani è un impiegato trentacinquenne con velleità letterarie, espressione della classe piccolo borghese in declino, oppressa dall’affermazione della società di massa, simboleggiata dalla figura di Angiolina. In un primo momento Emilio intrattiene senza impegno una relazione con la “figlia del popolo”, per poi innamorarsene perdutamente. Presto si rende conto dell’infedeltà della compagna e delle menzogne che prontamente riesce ad inventare per ottenere quello che desidera. Gli altri due protagonisti sono il migliore amico di Emilio, Stefano Balli, uno scultore poco apprezzato e Amalia, la cagionevole sorella di Emilio, innamorata di Stefano. Questi quattro personaggi sono in realtà dei “doppi”; Emilio e Stefano sono due facce dello stesso personaggio, come Amalia e Angiolina finiranno per “fondersi” in un’unica immagine. I due amici sono entrambi convinti della propria superiorità rispetto al pubblico che non sembra apprezzare le loro opere, entrambi sono caratterizzati da “una grande diffidenza e un grande disprezzo dei propri simili”. È il romanzo della crisi della mentalità borghese, ma anche dell’idealizzazione: Emilio non riesce a scendere a patti con la realtà, dunque si crea un’immagine edulcorata di Angiolina per nulla veritiera. Per tutta la durata della narrazione egli considera razionalmente le situazione in cui si trova coinvolto, per poi non essere in grado di comportarsi come vorrebbe. Emilio è un personaggio che si alimenta di auto-inganni, fatto evidenziato da Svevo tramite l’utilizzo della focalizzazione interna, che permette di notare l’inaffidabilità del narratore.
informative
reflective
medium-paced
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
La primera vez que me encontré con la obra de Italo Svevo fue gracias a James Joyce, quien no solo defendió su talento, sino que también contribuyó a su redescubrimiento literario. Intrigado por esa conexión, me adentré en "La conciencia de Zeno" sin mayores expectativas, solo con la curiosidad de leer a un autor que había permanecido en la sombra durante años. Lo que encontré fue una narrativa audaz, profundamente introspectiva y cargada de ironía, donde el protagonista, Zeno Cosini, se revela como un hombre contradictorio, marcado por la inercia y la autojustificación. Fue imposible no notar la similitud con "Senilidad", donde Emilio Brentani padece la misma lucha interna, aunque en un tono más sombrío y con un desenlace menos indulgente.
Lo que distingue a ambas novelas es la magistral exploración psicológica de sus personajes, una habilidad de Svevo que lo convierte en un precursor del modernismo literario. Su narrativa no solo describe los conflictos de sus protagonistas, sino que los sumerge en un proceso de autoanálisis que anticipa las teorías freudianas. Mientras "Senilidad" sigue una estructura más convencional, "La conciencia de Zeno" innova al fragmentar la narración en memorias escritas, reforzando la sensación de una identidad en constante construcción. En ambos casos, el lector se enfrenta a personajes que, lejos de ser héroes tradicionales, son antihéroes atrapados en su incapacidad para actuar con firmeza.
El título "Senilidad" no se refiere tanto a la vejez física, sino a la pasividad y resignación con las que Emilio afronta su existencia. La historia es un análisis de la frustración, la inacción y la distancia entre el deseo y la realidad, donde el protagonista, lejos de evolucionar, se consume en su propia incapacidad para tomar decisiones trascendental
Lo más fascinante de la obra de Svevo es su visión del individuo moderno: un ser que oscila entre el deseo de control y la imposibilidad de alcanzarlo. "Senilidad" ofrece una mirada trágica a esa impotencia, mientras que "La conciencia de Zeno" la transforma en un juego de ironía y escepticismo. Zeno, en su intento por comprenderse a sí mismo, termina burlándose de la idea de una verdad absoluta, un gesto que lo convierte en un personaje sorprendentemente actual. Al final, lo que une ambas novelas es su capacidad para cuestionar la autenticidad del relato que cada individuo construye sobre sí mismo, un tema que sigue resonando en la literatura contemporánea.
Lo que distingue a ambas novelas es la magistral exploración psicológica de sus personajes, una habilidad de Svevo que lo convierte en un precursor del modernismo literario. Su narrativa no solo describe los conflictos de sus protagonistas, sino que los sumerge en un proceso de autoanálisis que anticipa las teorías freudianas. Mientras "Senilidad" sigue una estructura más convencional, "La conciencia de Zeno" innova al fragmentar la narración en memorias escritas, reforzando la sensación de una identidad en constante construcción. En ambos casos, el lector se enfrenta a personajes que, lejos de ser héroes tradicionales, son antihéroes atrapados en su incapacidad para actuar con firmeza.
El título "Senilidad" no se refiere tanto a la vejez física, sino a la pasividad y resignación con las que Emilio afronta su existencia. La historia es un análisis de la frustración, la inacción y la distancia entre el deseo y la realidad, donde el protagonista, lejos de evolucionar, se consume en su propia incapacidad para tomar decisiones trascendental
Lo más fascinante de la obra de Svevo es su visión del individuo moderno: un ser que oscila entre el deseo de control y la imposibilidad de alcanzarlo. "Senilidad" ofrece una mirada trágica a esa impotencia, mientras que "La conciencia de Zeno" la transforma en un juego de ironía y escepticismo. Zeno, en su intento por comprenderse a sí mismo, termina burlándose de la idea de una verdad absoluta, un gesto que lo convierte en un personaje sorprendentemente actual. Al final, lo que une ambas novelas es su capacidad para cuestionar la autenticidad del relato que cada individuo construye sobre sí mismo, un tema que sigue resonando en la literatura contemporánea.
I went back and forth on this novel a bit as I read. I think my feelings were framed by the contrast between the late 19th/early 20th century division between the realist (Verismo in Italy) and decadent schools of novel writing that immediately preceded the modernist experiment. I was at first rather angry at the narrator of Senilita' for his entirely indefensible attitude toward women--that it was fine that the protagonist, Emilio Brentani, as a middle-aged bourgeois man, take a lover with no intention of marrying her in a society in which the woman would face much more dire social consequences for such behavior. I was looking at the political/societal situation first and foremost but Svevo's novel is rather more firmly rooted in the decadent tradition, concerned with the interior emotional lives of the various characters rather than the societal double standard.
As the novel goes on the characters, their interior lives, sorrows and tragic misapprehensions became more and more engrossing and I was able, eventually, to stop grousing, to abandon myself to the reading, and to really enjoy the artistry behind this evocation of pre-WWI alienation and solitude in Trieste. By the end I found myself very moved. The novel is quite unflinching in its depiction of the loneliness of the unattractive, the foibles of a mediocre, middle-class middle-aged man and woman (Brentani and his sister, Amalia), and the casual vanity of those more suited to romantic encounters as exemplified by Emilio's lover, Angiolina and his best buddy, Stefano Balli. It's a slow build-up well worth the payoff of the final three chapters.
Another interesting aspect of this novel--which sheds light on Svevo's later triumph, La Coscienza di Zeno--is how Senilita' terms love as a kind of sickness from which our Emilio is forever trying to "heal himself." It says a lot about the rationalist, bourgeois mindset of late 19th century Europe. A man decides that he should take a lover, but not in a serious way, merely as a distraction or middle-aged pastime, because he's never done it before. As soon as he feels actual emotion for the woman he chooses--a vain and duplicitous woman apparently thriving on playing a field of lovers for perhaps her own ego as well as to support her family--he becomes vulnerable to her whims and lies, and this disruption of the power structures between them can only be seen from his point of view as an illness that he must cure. In the parallel narrative, Emilio's sister Amalia literally falls ill of her unrequited love for Emilio's best friend, the careless bachelor Balli. By novel's end, both are cured, in their own way. But, like so many of our modern medicines, one wonders what's worse, the cancer or the cure.
Also a funny note: The two women of the novel, Angiolina and Amalia can only remind of the three sisters with names beginning with "A" of Zeno: Ada, Augusta, and Alberta. There I have always assumed the women were meant to contrast with the "Z" of the narrator, Zeno, but here it just seemed like some weird predilection of Svevo's to match the women with "A"'s and the men with "B"'s--Brentani and Balli. Boh!
As the novel goes on the characters, their interior lives, sorrows and tragic misapprehensions became more and more engrossing and I was able, eventually, to stop grousing, to abandon myself to the reading, and to really enjoy the artistry behind this evocation of pre-WWI alienation and solitude in Trieste. By the end I found myself very moved. The novel is quite unflinching in its depiction of the loneliness of the unattractive, the foibles of a mediocre, middle-class middle-aged man and woman (Brentani and his sister, Amalia), and the casual vanity of those more suited to romantic encounters as exemplified by Emilio's lover, Angiolina and his best buddy, Stefano Balli. It's a slow build-up well worth the payoff of the final three chapters.
Another interesting aspect of this novel--which sheds light on Svevo's later triumph, La Coscienza di Zeno--is how Senilita' terms love as a kind of sickness from which our Emilio is forever trying to "heal himself." It says a lot about the rationalist, bourgeois mindset of late 19th century Europe. A man decides that he should take a lover, but not in a serious way, merely as a distraction or middle-aged pastime, because he's never done it before. As soon as he feels actual emotion for the woman he chooses--a vain and duplicitous woman apparently thriving on playing a field of lovers for perhaps her own ego as well as to support her family--he becomes vulnerable to her whims and lies, and this disruption of the power structures between them can only be seen from his point of view as an illness that he must cure. In the parallel narrative, Emilio's sister Amalia literally falls ill of her unrequited love for Emilio's best friend, the careless bachelor Balli. By novel's end, both are cured, in their own way. But, like so many of our modern medicines, one wonders what's worse, the cancer or the cure.
Also a funny note: The two women of the novel, Angiolina and Amalia can only remind of the three sisters with names beginning with "A" of Zeno: Ada, Augusta, and Alberta. There I have always assumed the women were meant to contrast with the "Z" of the narrator, Zeno, but here it just seemed like some weird predilection of Svevo's to match the women with "A"'s and the men with "B"'s--Brentani and Balli. Boh!
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
You know how people talk about books that "changed my life"? Well, I don't think books can change your life (at least not in my case), but I think they can help you change your life (in other words, you change your life, not the book -- ok, pedantic point, but still, wanted to be clear on that....)
Well, this book, along with Buzzati's Il deserto dei Tartari helped me change my life (actually, I have 2 non-fiction examples that did the same, albeit in different ways: Lewis Hyde's The Gift, and Norman O Brown's Life Against Death).
How did this book help change my life? By showing me, in stark color, myself. It didn't show me something I didn't already know. What it did was help me to see what I already knew rationally in another, more emotional way. It showed me the tortured mechanisms of my mind for what they are: bullshit wankitude. It showed me what happens when you don't see things for what they are (Buzzati's book did the same): you don't live.
A note on the style: I enjoyed the Antonioni-esque usage of landscape and weather as a backdrop to the psychological drama.
Interesting trivia point: on its initial publication in 1898 this book had no success, and was not mentioned (either favorably or unfavorably) by any critic. 25 years later, James Joyce convinced Svevo to release a 2nd edition. Thanks James!
Well, this book, along with Buzzati's Il deserto dei Tartari helped me change my life (actually, I have 2 non-fiction examples that did the same, albeit in different ways: Lewis Hyde's The Gift, and Norman O Brown's Life Against Death).
How did this book help change my life? By showing me, in stark color, myself. It didn't show me something I didn't already know. What it did was help me to see what I already knew rationally in another, more emotional way. It showed me the tortured mechanisms of my mind for what they are: bullshit wankitude. It showed me what happens when you don't see things for what they are (Buzzati's book did the same): you don't live.
A note on the style: I enjoyed the Antonioni-esque usage of landscape and weather as a backdrop to the psychological drama.
Interesting trivia point: on its initial publication in 1898 this book had no success, and was not mentioned (either favorably or unfavorably) by any critic. 25 years later, James Joyce convinced Svevo to release a 2nd edition. Thanks James!