A suitable review for the works of Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch, as he is most often referred to) ought to consider the entire sum of the Rerum Familiarium, but the Italica Press edition has these "Familiar Letters" divided into three volumes, each of some non-inconsequential size. As such, I might as well right a little bit about each as a I proceed through them. It took me about a year, reading a letter at a time, to finish Volume 1 - Petrarch has been my constant companion for reflection, not study, for leisure, not work, and, as such, he has long-occupied the "little-by-little" slot on my regular readings - so this whole review project might take me a little whiles. That is suitable. Rome was not built in a day, and neither did Petrarch write his letters in even the course of one year. I should take the same care in reading them.
For those unfamiliar, Petrarch is the exemplar of the Italian Renaissance. In some sense, he is the defining force of its resurgence of Classical studies (= the "liberal arts"). It was Petrarch, more than perhaps any other humanist in the history of philology, who brought fresh attention to the translation and preservation of the works of Cicero, Seneca, Catullus, Maro, and their ilk. His contemporaries (and his near-contemporaries) focused their humanisms on the works of Augustine or other theologians, or on the crafting of new masterpieces (like Dante or Boccaccio did): Petrarch re-birthed ("Renaissance") the Greco-Roman classics.
But his aim was not just the caretaking of the texts, their good translation, or their preservation (although all these were part of his work); he was committed to a cultural work, to seeing the way of life of Cicero, et al. revived. That is, in all-too-short of words, the genius of the Rerum Familiarium. In a world before even the printing press, Petrarch's goal was one of culture-making, culture-shaping, and culture-forming, something he aimed to accomplish through impassioned letters to his friends, mentors, even enemies. He had an integrated sense of what the purpose of the liberal arts was to be: one of virtue-formation, in a sense, and he thought it his role to disseminate that paideia in all the world (or, at least, throughout Italy). One gets a sense of his frustration as, despite his cultural-formative project, the winds of Fortune blow against him, as various parts of Italy fall into war or the Plague, as his friends die all-too-young, and even as his beloved King Robert dies.
The central power of Petrarch's letters is his constant resourcing of classical texts for his work. There is a strong deference to the authority of the Ancients here - though Petrarch is never shy in letting his opinion differ with his authorities (he in particular seems to give Aristotle some contention; unsurprisingly, given the scholastic Aristotelean establishment of his day). Some letters have an intimacy of tremendous force, exemplifying Cicero's value of the nature of friendship; others have a more devotional quality, especially in his conversations with various Roman bishops; and still others have a more academic, more poetic, more literary tone to them. Their diversity is delightful.
Volume 1 includes several of Petrarch's more familiar letters, including the powerful account of his ascent of Mount Venteaux (a crucial turn for Renaissance humanism). Underlying that account is the existential classicism of St. Augustine, which speaks a little (and other letters speak more) of Petrarch's unique expression of Christian faith, one absolutely catholic and orthodox, and, yet, distinct and separate from the politics of the Roman Curia and the folk-theology of the people.
I would remiss in my review if I did not mention a grievous thing regarding this Italica Press edition: the print is weak. There are times where entire pages are half-inked (though legible), or where strange blank streaks run across the page. The binding is weak too, and I have a handful of pages that plopped right out of the leaf without as much as a tug. This is disappointing, given how nice the volumes look both on the shelf and in the hand. It is even more disappointing seeing as how the Italica Press edition is, to my knowledge, the only English translation of the complete Rerum Familiarium. I wish either that Italica Press would redouble their efforts in providing a suitably sturdy and polished product, or that some other enterprising scholar would publish a rival edition (maybe one with critical notes?). For Petrarch lovers, however - as well as all modern Renaissance humanists - this edition will have to do, if only for the eloquence of its text.