The Plot Against America - Philip Roth

Another book that my mom insisted I read for a long, long time. And this time around one that I was keen to read (both Jewish and suburban, yay!) but I just didn't get around to buying it for a long time...

Besides liking it for the obvious reasons (Roth's writing, the story of the Jewish people of Newark, etc.) it's one of those fictional accounts that actually made me learn things about history. While I'm acutely aware of the fact that Lindberg was never the president of the US, there were plenty of things I didn't know about him, or Henry Ford, for instance.

Obviously the book is relevant and current, but I feel like I would have enjoyed this thoroughly regardless of the historical period we live in. And why Roth never won the Nobel prize is beyond me, though getting a Pulitzer is not exactly easy (or shabby)...

Shroud - John Banville

A book taken from the book-crossing shelves at Turin airport that manages to be so delightfully Turinese (even in its title) despite being written by an Irish author.

I didn't know anything about Banville (bad me, I mean, the guy even won the Booker Prize) and my mom, right as usual, persuaded me to read this book despite not having even read it herself.

The book is beautifully written, though at times it is possibly a bit too deep and ponderous even for me (or maybe I'm just not as good a reader as I think I am!). The shadowy identity twist from the main character's WWII years, and the decadence of the contemporary setting, however, made this an excellent read. Though, after consecutive books with big WWII discoveries, I really needed something solely focused on the contemporary world and without Nazis around!

Mr Sammler’s Planet – Saul Bellow

Saul Bellow is probably as underrated a Nobel Prize winner as any, and the fact that my second-hand bookshops very rarely have his books is undeniably a sad sign! But hey, luckily my parents had two copies of this novel (and Skoob near Russell Square had Humboldt’s Gift, which I will hopefully read soon).

Mr Sammler’s Planet is wonderful, witty and deep. It is also typically Jewish and New Yorker, which makes it an instant sell with me. For all the depth and likability of the protagonist, however, the two most interesting characters are the dying Elya (a perfect patient, and surely a very good doctor – if uninterested in his profession) and the stylish and mysterious pickpocket, whose bizarre decision to impress Sammler by showing him his member is for me one of the great creations of American literature. Speaking of great creations of American literature, though, it’s important to remember that nothing here matches Herzog’s graphomania…

And I could talk about Sammler’s experiences in WWII, but the book is ultimately about overcoming those (at least to me), so I won’t. Instead, I’ll say that this book mentions Ferdinand the Bull, without a doubt my favourite story between the ages of 3 and 6. 

Se Questo E’ un Uomo – Primo Levi

Without a doubt Primo Levi’s most famous book. Given the topic (the author’s experience in the Nazi concentration camps) it’s really hard to write anything about it, and even more to offer any sort of vague critique. We were strongly encouraged to read the book in high-school (by the time I had already read it), but I think we should have all been forced to do so.

From a sociological and anthropological point of view, the book offers a unique insight into human relations in the direst of situations. Yet, at the same time, the book ultimately doesn’t cast a moral judgement on the persecutors, something that I found extremely surprising.

I first read it when I was 13 or 14, and I remember being really shocked when I realized that often in concentration camps the ones more likely to die soon were the strongest men, capable of doing the hardest jobs and incapable of doing them without using their full strength. The frequent references to the Divine Comedy made me want to read some of its key “Canti” already then, when I was surely too young to understand them.

I don’t think that someone who has survived to tell this tale then decided to kill himself more than 40 years later. But maybe I’m just naive...

Il Giardino dei Finzi-Contini – Giorgio Bassani

I am starting to feel sorry for whoever ends up reading this blog and its countless comments on books about... Italian Fascism! Apologies, but those bleak years did prove to be an incredible source of inspiration for a generation, or two, of Italian authors...

At least this book isn’t really about the Resistance, or anti-Fascism, but rather about the impact that the regime had on the everyday life of rich Jewish people who had no particular interest in fighting it. Being narrated by a character outside the family, it idolizes the lives of the Finzi-Contini. The book is completely coated in a melancholic patina, something that I really envy because I don’t think I will have the same bittersweet memories of my fruitless Italian juvenile love (my memories of her are just plain bitter).

For me, one noticeable quality of this book is Bassani’s ability to ultimately leave politics aside: he managed to write a book on the impact of Fascism without actually discussing Fascism, with a story that remains within the boundaries of the villa of the Finzi-Contini, only occasionally venturing to a couple of other locations in the town of Ferrara.

For anyone familiar with Italian cinema, I was quite surprised by the fact that Vittorio De Sica directed the (fairly unsatisfactory) movie inspired by the book, as the story would have been perfect, absolutely perfect, for a movie by the Taviani brothers.

Lessico Famigliare – Natalia Ginzburg

Another book that I’ve read to feel like I was doing something related to my Ph.D. thesis when, in fact, I was simply reading for fun (much, much more enjoyable!).

Before reading the book I only thought of Natalia as Leone Ginzburg’s wife. Needless to say, the book made me change my outlook. A unique novel/memoir mixing History with a capital “H” and personal histories, the book covers the time-span between the rise of Fascism and the early 1950s. Oddly enough, for once, I didn’t lose interest after the end of WWII – unlike with so many other books, including staples of 20^th century European literature like The Tin Drum.

Apparently it’s enough for a book to be about the fight against Fascism for me to like it, but this (like, erm, all the other books on anti-Fascism?!?) hold a special place in my heart.