What do you think?
Rate this book
Ermafrodito
Trascendendo il suo tempo, Beccadelli continua a insegnare al mondo che la letteratura è stata - e ancora può essere - il solo modo per parlare degli istinti; che la letteratura ammette nello spazio del sociale le inclinazioni di ciascuno, anche le più difficili da comprendere e da definire sul piano della morale, a cominciare dal sesso. Non si sottolineerà mai abbastanza che la poesia e la prosa per secoli hanno svolto il compito di rappresentare la diversità e l'eccezione e di affermarle, se non come alternative, sí come realtà possibili. L'Ermafrodito, ispirato o no che sia da vicende dell'autore, dice quegli amori e quegli affetti che nessun altro può o vuole dire, se non nella forma del rifiuto. È, a suo modo, una rivendicazione. Qualunque rivendicazione, alla fine, non è che un appello alla dignità assoluta della parola umana. Solo così, al livello superiore della formulazione linguistica, ben oltre il preteso spazio della biografia (che chissà poi cos'è), arte e vita diventano una cosa, e la verità si identifica non con il verbale dei peccati personali, ma con la libertà di tutti.
dall'Introduzione di Nicola Gardini
dall'Introduzione di Nicola Gardini
- GenresPoetryRenaissance
207 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1425
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
Read
November 25, 2013It's hard for me to find the right way to respond to this. If I were a real critic, I'd lets some time pass, then read the book again, take lots of notes, and put in a lot of deep thought to sort out the right perspective to take. But since I'm not a real critic, impressions will have to do.
The book is a collection of very-short to medium-length, extremely crude and usually vulgar poems. There is a little bit of praise expressed within, and heaps of ridicule and condemnation.
Though perhaps in a very small circulation, the book has been preserved through the centuries, not just because it has value for scholarship regarding medieval/renaissance Latin and the cultural history of 15th Century Italy, but also because humanity will always retain the impulse to say "hey this is some crude and crazy shit that you've got to read to believe." In fact, I think that's exactly how the book came to fame in its own day.
I was not initially impressed. In fact, I was inspired to look up a few examples of the work that inspired this, and I came to the following conclusion: Martial is sometimes crude, and also witty. Beccadelli is crude.
The lack of wit, and the random hodgepodge of poems, can leave the reader wondering "why the hell am I reading this?" I read the introduction after reading the text (as I usually do with most books), and I thought it notable that the translator shared my impression. From the translator:
"After all the hyperbole of praise and condemnation, the reader's initial reaction may be disappointment. The truth of the matter is, despite Valla's praise of him (when they were getting along) as the best poet of his age, he was not especially good."
The translator goes on to comment on some of Beccadelli's failings in his use of Latin, his "tone-deafness", the obscurity of his expression, and his limitations in terms of formal experiment or range. The translator also concurs with another of my impressions:
"However, the main problem with Beccadelli is that he lacks wit..." (examples given) "...Similarly, it is hard to see the point of some of Beccadelli's epigrams."
And yet... somehow... after getting past some of the negatives and adjusting my expectations, I read to the end, and I enjoyed much of what I read! It entertains in its own crude way, and it seems to improve as one comes to the later parts of "Book II."
There is a particularly entertaining series of four poems to his oversexed mistress "Ursa." In the first two poems in the set ("To Aurispa on Ursa's Cunt" and "Aurispa's Reply"), the author viciously and disgustingly insults his mistress, as he has done previously throughout the book. Then, in the third poem ("To Ursa Crying") the author consoles his mistress, praises her, expresses a deep and abiding love, and denies having ever written any poetry except that which praises her. He condemns any liar who may have spread false rumors about what he has written. Then, in the fourth poem ("The Punishment of Hell That Ursa Gives the Author While He Is Still Alive") he immediately returns to his vile and vulgar insults, giving the lie to his contrition.
Another standout poem in the collection is perhaps the longest, from Book II, Poem XXXVI "A Nag Dying of Hunger Complains about His Master Lelfo Loschi." It is exactly what its title claims: a poem written in the voice of a horse whose master is so miserly and cruel as to starve the wretched beast to death. But the horse would rather be his own miserable self than such a low creature as his master must be.
I guess I'll include a sample poem too. This one is less crude than usual, and it is an Epitaph.
"Epitaph for the Exceptional Cook Martino,
Nicknamed 'Polyphemus'"
Stop, please, and sprinkle my tomb with your tears,
if you're a student who by chance makes his way here.
I was called Polyphemus because of my huge body
but I was known as Martino, my proper name.
I always loved young men devoted to their studies,
It was clear that I outdid all other servants and cooks.
But now at last I am robbed of my funeral service,
lacking incense, I have been buried in shallow dirt.
Mathesilanus ordered that I be buried in the middle of the night,
that my obsequies lack light.
No priest celebrated my funeral with cross or chanting,
nor was the final requiem said for me.
Secretly and hastily I was buried, hidden in a sack.
My narrow tomb didn't even cover my balls.
As I was carried out, I was amazed and feared I was going down into the latrines,
nor did I think I was being put in holy ground.
I pray, at least quickly throw on some earth and cover my foot:
it's sticking out. Oh, I'm afraid the dogs will tear it.
Immediately I will fill the house of my master with ill-omened
shrieks. He will pay his own penalty.
So, it turned into a worthwhile read after all, and if we can celebrate Bukowski in our own day, why not a crude Latin poet of the 15th Century?
The book is a collection of very-short to medium-length, extremely crude and usually vulgar poems. There is a little bit of praise expressed within, and heaps of ridicule and condemnation.
Though perhaps in a very small circulation, the book has been preserved through the centuries, not just because it has value for scholarship regarding medieval/renaissance Latin and the cultural history of 15th Century Italy, but also because humanity will always retain the impulse to say "hey this is some crude and crazy shit that you've got to read to believe." In fact, I think that's exactly how the book came to fame in its own day.
I was not initially impressed. In fact, I was inspired to look up a few examples of the work that inspired this, and I came to the following conclusion: Martial is sometimes crude, and also witty. Beccadelli is crude.
The lack of wit, and the random hodgepodge of poems, can leave the reader wondering "why the hell am I reading this?" I read the introduction after reading the text (as I usually do with most books), and I thought it notable that the translator shared my impression. From the translator:
"After all the hyperbole of praise and condemnation, the reader's initial reaction may be disappointment. The truth of the matter is, despite Valla's praise of him (when they were getting along) as the best poet of his age, he was not especially good."
The translator goes on to comment on some of Beccadelli's failings in his use of Latin, his "tone-deafness", the obscurity of his expression, and his limitations in terms of formal experiment or range. The translator also concurs with another of my impressions:
"However, the main problem with Beccadelli is that he lacks wit..." (examples given) "...Similarly, it is hard to see the point of some of Beccadelli's epigrams."
And yet... somehow... after getting past some of the negatives and adjusting my expectations, I read to the end, and I enjoyed much of what I read! It entertains in its own crude way, and it seems to improve as one comes to the later parts of "Book II."
There is a particularly entertaining series of four poems to his oversexed mistress "Ursa." In the first two poems in the set ("To Aurispa on Ursa's Cunt" and "Aurispa's Reply"), the author viciously and disgustingly insults his mistress, as he has done previously throughout the book. Then, in the third poem ("To Ursa Crying") the author consoles his mistress, praises her, expresses a deep and abiding love, and denies having ever written any poetry except that which praises her. He condemns any liar who may have spread false rumors about what he has written. Then, in the fourth poem ("The Punishment of Hell That Ursa Gives the Author While He Is Still Alive") he immediately returns to his vile and vulgar insults, giving the lie to his contrition.
Another standout poem in the collection is perhaps the longest, from Book II, Poem XXXVI "A Nag Dying of Hunger Complains about His Master Lelfo Loschi." It is exactly what its title claims: a poem written in the voice of a horse whose master is so miserly and cruel as to starve the wretched beast to death. But the horse would rather be his own miserable self than such a low creature as his master must be.
I guess I'll include a sample poem too. This one is less crude than usual, and it is an Epitaph.
"Epitaph for the Exceptional Cook Martino,
Nicknamed 'Polyphemus'"
Stop, please, and sprinkle my tomb with your tears,
if you're a student who by chance makes his way here.
I was called Polyphemus because of my huge body
but I was known as Martino, my proper name.
I always loved young men devoted to their studies,
It was clear that I outdid all other servants and cooks.
But now at last I am robbed of my funeral service,
lacking incense, I have been buried in shallow dirt.
Mathesilanus ordered that I be buried in the middle of the night,
that my obsequies lack light.
No priest celebrated my funeral with cross or chanting,
nor was the final requiem said for me.
Secretly and hastily I was buried, hidden in a sack.
My narrow tomb didn't even cover my balls.
As I was carried out, I was amazed and feared I was going down into the latrines,
nor did I think I was being put in holy ground.
I pray, at least quickly throw on some earth and cover my foot:
it's sticking out. Oh, I'm afraid the dogs will tear it.
Immediately I will fill the house of my master with ill-omened
shrieks. He will pay his own penalty.
So, it turned into a worthwhile read after all, and if we can celebrate Bukowski in our own day, why not a crude Latin poet of the 15th Century?
June 16, 2024
El pobrecillo de Matías Lupi que se ha comido 40 poemas diciendo que es maricón y tonto
August 22, 2026
This book was written in 1425-1426 and I read it 600 years later in 2025-2026, even hundreds of years books being a hobby of mine. I read it as I was leaving California in the summer of 2025 and finished it in a remote southwest desert in a town of 75 people including one person of opposing gender presentations depending on the day. The author of this book states he has likewise divided his book into two.
I found a few items clever in the book, but it’s not really for reading alone in the desert. It would hit better if read slowly so the good lines can be remembered, and in a group where they can be repeated, as the good lines of poetry were when I was in college. In other words, it is probably most serviceable as a meme.
The idea of the book is more interesting than the book itself, which the translator notes as “not especially good… the main problem with Beccadelli is that he lacks wit.” But it was a test of decency and of freedom written by a young man who then went on to have a serious life. How many young writers declare boldly, “I don’t care what anyone thinks, I will write what I want,” and then are standing around at age 50 in a tie getting shifty whenever anyone brings it up. The idea of such a test also strikes differently living in the USA in a time of profound obscenity paired with a resurgence of puritanism.
Contemporary with publication, the author collected three letters about the book that he circulated with it. These letters and some other discussion and reviews collected by Holt Parker, the translator and organizer of the I Tatti Renaissance Library (Harvard University Press) publication appear at the back of the book.
Of the three collected by Beccadelli, the themes are most interesting. Poggio Bracciolini discusses the proper spheres of different kinds of writers, and the ethical difference between written works and actions. He concludes that anyone who would criticize Beccadelli’s character based on his written work is a fool, but also advises him to write more cautiously.
Beccadelli, sending a copy of his book to Archbishop Batolomeo, writes:
And indeed Beccadelli worked as a government representative, a professor, and a tutor for the rest of his life, not particularly looked down upon for having produced this work, though there was debate of whether that should be the case.
Today we have this saying about separating the art from the artist, but it generally means the exact opposite- whether the artist is extremely moral or whether they are extremely evil, what will cause them problems is not their life as a person but if they write something that strikes a significant segment of their readers as immoral.
As an example, among my circles on the internet there is currently a reevaluation of David Foster Wallace among those too young to remember his actual life. Now, the last time he got a reevaluation, a few years after his death, it was his actual life that was under scrutiny. But oddly it is currently his writing, which is an entirely new debate. The time of profound obscenity paired with a resurgence of puritanism is taking on strange forms!
This book was written just before the Inquisition got rolling in a way that would have affected the author. Concerns when it did were the rise of Protestantism, and there was a contemporary joke that Beccadelli’s book caused Protestants. Which in a serious way demonstrates how obscenity without restraint is a test of intellectual freedom, even though many intellectuals would wish it were not so.
A note on language: I did not read the Latin, and having really accelerated my believe in and use of whole language learning since I started reading this book last year, and also my believe in taking advantage of any exposure to any language, even one that I have no intention to study, I would have read it if I were starting over.
I found a few items clever in the book, but it’s not really for reading alone in the desert. It would hit better if read slowly so the good lines can be remembered, and in a group where they can be repeated, as the good lines of poetry were when I was in college. In other words, it is probably most serviceable as a meme.
The idea of the book is more interesting than the book itself, which the translator notes as “not especially good… the main problem with Beccadelli is that he lacks wit.” But it was a test of decency and of freedom written by a young man who then went on to have a serious life. How many young writers declare boldly, “I don’t care what anyone thinks, I will write what I want,” and then are standing around at age 50 in a tie getting shifty whenever anyone brings it up. The idea of such a test also strikes differently living in the USA in a time of profound obscenity paired with a resurgence of puritanism.
Contemporary with publication, the author collected three letters about the book that he circulated with it. These letters and some other discussion and reviews collected by Holt Parker, the translator and organizer of the I Tatti Renaissance Library (Harvard University Press) publication appear at the back of the book.
Of the three collected by Beccadelli, the themes are most interesting. Poggio Bracciolini discusses the proper spheres of different kinds of writers, and the ethical difference between written works and actions. He concludes that anyone who would criticize Beccadelli’s character based on his written work is a fool, but also advises him to write more cautiously.
Beccadelli, sending a copy of his book to Archbishop Batolomeo, writes:
castum esse decet pium poetam
ipsum, versiculos nihil necesse est
It’s right that a proper poet be pure himself
But there’s no need for his verse to be.
And indeed Beccadelli worked as a government representative, a professor, and a tutor for the rest of his life, not particularly looked down upon for having produced this work, though there was debate of whether that should be the case.
Today we have this saying about separating the art from the artist, but it generally means the exact opposite- whether the artist is extremely moral or whether they are extremely evil, what will cause them problems is not their life as a person but if they write something that strikes a significant segment of their readers as immoral.
As an example, among my circles on the internet there is currently a reevaluation of David Foster Wallace among those too young to remember his actual life. Now, the last time he got a reevaluation, a few years after his death, it was his actual life that was under scrutiny. But oddly it is currently his writing, which is an entirely new debate. The time of profound obscenity paired with a resurgence of puritanism is taking on strange forms!
This book was written just before the Inquisition got rolling in a way that would have affected the author. Concerns when it did were the rise of Protestantism, and there was a contemporary joke that Beccadelli’s book caused Protestants. Which in a serious way demonstrates how obscenity without restraint is a test of intellectual freedom, even though many intellectuals would wish it were not so.
A note on language: I did not read the Latin, and having really accelerated my believe in and use of whole language learning since I started reading this book last year, and also my believe in taking advantage of any exposure to any language, even one that I have no intention to study, I would have read it if I were starting over.
April 26, 2019
Really enjoyed them. What's better than humor and wit that lasts throughout the ages?
September 22, 2016
Overall, I enjoyed reading this collection, but I have to say that the poems are generally more simple in crudity rather than being clever or punny. A lot of poems that lose relevance by being very situational, referring to smaller events or contemporaries who did not gain historical importance or were mediocre writers.
Read
August 31, 2014So funny. I spent the entire time cackling to myself.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews