This blog is making me realize how many books I’ve
read about the Italian Resistance and, in general, about the fight against
Fascism. This book, however, is probably my favourite one of all. And I am not
just talking about books on anti-Fascism, I am talking about all the books ever
written all over the world.
Of course, even in this case, I am dreadfully
biased. The book is all set in the towns and on the hills where I’ve grown up.
But, even as I try to be remotely objective about it, I think it’s an absolute
work of art: the prose, mixing Italian and English, is still innovative even after
50 years, Fenoglio weaves global history, local history, and personal histories
(fictionalized or not) with an inimitable display of skills and even the smaller
characters manage to leave a lasting impression in the minds of the readers.
And I might be naive, or simply in denial, but
I don’t think the ending is so obvious as most people take it to be.
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