: Natalia Ginzburg
: Family and Borghesia
: Daunt Books
: 9781914198830
: 1
: CHF 8.50
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 160
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Architect Carmine and translator Ivana were once lovers. Their child died and their relationship ended but now, decades on, both with marriages and children of their own, they are friends. Carmine - uneasy in his life of aspiration and materialism - begins to look back over opportunities missed and choices made. Set against post-war social breakdown, the melancholic, quietly dazzling Family elegantly examines the human condition and what brings happiness to a life. Widow Ilaria has three cats in quick succession, each one disappearing or dying. Living with her brother-in-law Pietro and her teenage daughter and husband, Ilaria shoulders all the housekeeping and cooking. At first comic, but becoming progressively dark, Borghesia is a delicate evocation of one life and the relationships that constrain and define it. In both novellas, underneath a subtle, stripped-down prose and a rich cast of characters, runs a seam of unhappiness and isolation, as Natalia Ginzburg explores the allure of memories and the complexity of family and relationships.

Natalia Ginzburg (1916-1991) was born in Sicily and is regarded as one of the most important Italian writers of the twentieth century. She wrote dozens of essays, plays, and novels, including Voices in the Evening, All Our Yesterdays, and Family Lexicon, which won the prestigious Strega Prize in 1963. She was involved in activism throughout her life, and served in the Italian parliament from 1983 to 1987.

 

 

A MAN and a woman went to see a film one summer Sunday afternoon. With them were a young girl of about fourteen and two boys of about seven. The man was tall and handsome with black hair, a large dark-skinned face and a large mouth set in a serious line. He wore black glasses and a crumpled blue suit. The woman, who was short and not very good-looking, had a tiny face and an olive complexion. Her black hair was twisted into a tight knot on top of her head. She had a long thin nose, green eyes and bushy eyebrows, sloping shoulders and broad hips. She wore a denim skirt and a blue T-shirt faded almost white. The two were friends and had known each other many years. When they were young they had lived together for a while, as lovers, but now they were just friends. The girl, who was called Angelica, was the woman’s daughter. She was tall, with flaming red hair that fell about her shoulders, and a tuft over her forehead that completely hid one of her yellowy-brown eyes. She was covered in freckles. She wore a full grass-green skirt and a raw silk blouse. The smaller of the two boys was the man’s son. His name was Piergiorgio, but everyone called him Dodò. He was fat, with straight chestnut hair combed forward and round, shy eyes. A camel-hair jumper was tied round his waist. The other boy was thin and dark and had big, white, prominent teeth. He was the child of one of the neighbours, a woman called Isa Meli. She was tired that day and wanted to spend the whole afternoon sleeping. ‘Why has he got that jumper?’ said Angelica, pointing to the fat little boy. She had a thin, severe, matter-of-fact voice. She was most displeased at having to go out on a Sunday afternoon with her mother and with those two children, and her one eye, peering out from amongst the freckles, wore a stern, bored expression. The man pushed the tuft of hair back from her temple, and for a split second, her other eye appeared. Then the tuft of hair hid it again. ‘Because sometimes when you go to an air-conditioned cinema’, said the man, ‘it’s like the North Pole.’

The film, which was in colour, was calledAbyss. It was about millionaires in a gleaming white villa on a lonely beach, drinking fizzy drinks, s