marcusgipps (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} marcusgipps) wrote,@ 2008-09-13 19:14:00 |
|
The Leopard, by Guiseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
I didn't really know anything about this novel, apart from the fact that it had always sold very well at the shop (in a variety of editions), and had a reputation as one of the Twentieth Century's great books. It was just a whim that made me pick it off the shelf, to be honest - I don't think anyone has ever said to me how much they liked it, or talked about it, or anything. I hadn't even registered that there was a very highly regarded film available, and when I read the blurb on the back I almost put it back and chose something else. I'm rather glad I didn't, though, as it turned out to be the book I enjoyed most of my four-suprise-choices.
If you don't know the book, there's a worry that this precis may seem rather dry, but trust me, the book itself isn't. Don Fabrizi is a noble in late-nineteenth century Sicily, and the book follows his (and his family's fortunes) through a time of social upheaval and reform. Yes, that does sound a little dull, but Lampedusa's writing (presumably aided by the translator) manages to carry it off. We may not like all of the characters, but it is hard not respect them all, even if only a little. The Don, in particular, is one of the best-drawn characters I've read - proud and rigid but becoming aware of the changes in the world around him, he does his best to remain a 'good man', at least by his own lights. The world being depicted is, of course, completely alien to the twenty-first century reader, but nevertheless manages to not only convince but also to seduce. The final section - at least in the aged translation that I read - is incredibly affecting, and left me feeling that I really had read one of the best books of the twentieth century, which is no mean feat.
I read a very old paperback while on holiday in France, which looks nothing like the one here. It seems that there have been various 'rediscoveries' of extra bits to the text, and of course there have been more modern translations - I might have to pick one up and see what I think of the differences.
I didn't really know anything about this novel, apart from the fact that it had always sold very well at the shop (in a variety of editions), and had a reputation as one of the Twentieth Century's great books. It was just a whim that made me pick it off the shelf, to be honest - I don't think anyone has ever said to me how much they liked it, or talked about it, or anything. I hadn't even registered that there was a very highly regarded film available, and when I read the blurb on the back I almost put it back and chose something else. I'm rather glad I didn't, though, as it turned out to be the book I enjoyed most of my four-suprise-choices.
If you don't know the book, there's a worry that this precis may seem rather dry, but trust me, the book itself isn't. Don Fabrizi is a noble in late-nineteenth century Sicily, and the book follows his (and his family's fortunes) through a time of social upheaval and reform. Yes, that does sound a little dull, but Lampedusa's writing (presumably aided by the translator) manages to carry it off. We may not like all of the characters, but it is hard not respect them all, even if only a little. The Don, in particular, is one of the best-drawn characters I've read - proud and rigid but becoming aware of the changes in the world around him, he does his best to remain a 'good man', at least by his own lights. The world being depicted is, of course, completely alien to the twenty-first century reader, but nevertheless manages to not only convince but also to seduce. The final section - at least in the aged translation that I read - is incredibly affecting, and left me feeling that I really had read one of the best books of the twentieth century, which is no mean feat.
I read a very old paperback while on holiday in France, which looks nothing like the one here. It seems that there have been various 'rediscoveries' of extra bits to the text, and of course there have been more modern translations - I might have to pick one up and see what I think of the differences.
