Palomar

by Italo Calvino, Yan Nascimbene

«Rileggendo il tutto, m'accorgo che la storia di Palomar si può riassumere in due "Un uomo si mette in marcia per raggiungere, passo a passo, la saggezza. Non è ancora arrivato".»(Dalla presentazione scritta da Calvino nel 1983)

Genres: Fiction, Italian Literature, Italy, Classics, Literature, Short Stories, Novels

Hardcover

First published November 1, 1983

About the author

Italo Calvino was born in Cuba and grew up in Italy. He was a journalist and writer of short stories and novels. His best known works include the Our Ancestors trilogy (1952-1959), the Cosmicomics collection of short stories (1965), and the novels Invisible Cities (1972) and If On a Winter's Night a Traveler (1979).

His style is not easy to classify; much of his writing has an air reminiscent to that of fantastical fairy tales (Our Ancestors, Cosmicomics), although sometimes his writing is more "realistic" and in the scenic mode of observation (Difficult Loves, for example). Some of his writing has been called postmodern, reflecting on literature and the act of reading, while some has been labeled magical realist, others fables, others simply "modern". He wrote: "My working method has more often than not involved the subtraction of weight. I have tried to remove weight, sometimes from people, sometimes from heavenly bodies, sometimes from cities; above all I have tried to remove weight from the structure of stories and from language."

Reviews

[Luís · Rating 4 out of 5]

Calvino renounces here the idea of a unitary, organized history. Instead, it combines 27 texts and articles written during the 1970s. Through a tenuous observation of everyday life and a serene concern for the future, Calvino analyzes the fleeting relationship it establishes between the character's consciousness and a fragment of reality isolated by the gaze.
Palomar wants to be the "man of attention" and dreams of a supreme moment when, just before his death, he will envelop the whole world in an absolute glance.

[بثينة العيسى · Rating 5 out of 5]

نشأ كالڤينو في أسرة علماء. وقد أشار إلى نفسه بصفته "الحالة الشاذّة" في العائلة لأنه "الوحيد الذي تعاطى الأدب". كان والده يدير محطة لزراعة الأزهار، وكان لديه خالان كيميائيان متزوجان من عمّتين كيميائيتين، وعملت أمه مساعدة جامعية في علم النبات.

هذه المعلومة العرضية هي الشيء الوحيد الذي يفسّر، بالنسبة لي، لغة كالڤينو؛ اخضرارها وخصوبتها معًا، إنها في المجمل لغة راصِدة، بالغة الدقة، فيها إنصات للعالم، تشبه التمعّن عبر المجهر لثنيةٍ عجيبة في جدار خلية، أو لتكتّلات عنقودية خلف ورقة سرخس.

يمكن لفقرة عند كالڤينو أن تتضمن ٦ أو ٧ أسماء لنباتات، نجوم وأجرام سماوية، أو طيور مهاجرة. وهذا يعني أنَّ كالڤينو بصفته "الحالة الشاذة في العائلة"، هو أيضًا إسفنجة مثالية لذلك الفضول العلمي الذي غلّف طفولته، لأن توظيفه لعناصر الطبيعة مثل الوزغة وكوكبة الهلبة و الشحرور والهندباء البرية، هو توظيف العارف، لا المتفرّج على الكلمات من سطح القاموس، بل شيء أبعد بكثير، يشبه خروج اللغة البِكر من جوف آدم الذي تعلّم الأسماء كلها.

أتذكر هنا اقتباسًا لإدوارد سعيد يقول فيه بأن عظمة الأدب تكمن في امتزاجه بالأشياء لا في نقائه. نحن نستحضر عادةً امتزاج الأدب بالسياسة والتاريخ والسوسيولوجيا والمثولوجيا، لكن لو أردنا مثالًا ممتازًا عن علاقة الأدب الشهوانية بالبيولوجيا.. فلنتذكّر كالڤينو.

لسنوات طويلة ظلّ زوربا يتسيّد قائمة الشخصيات الروائية المفضلة لكثيرين وأنا من بينهم، لكن يبدو أنني تغيرت. إن شخصيتي الروائية المفضلة الجديدة هي شخصية « السيد پالومار » الذي يقول: « يجب عليَّ أن أشاهد النَّجوم »، كلما سطعت النجوم في السماء، لأنه « يكره التبذير ويرى أنَّه من غير الصَّواب خسارة هذا الكمّ الكبير من النجوم التي وضعت تحت تصرُّفه ».

[Garima · Rating 5 out of 5]

The thought of a time outside our experience is intolerable.

Had I met someone like Mr. Palomar before reading this book, I’d have easily passed him off as just another middle aged man on the verge of senility with nothing better to do with his time or at the most a mad wannabe scientist who realized about his true calling when it was too late with no one interested about his observations or findings. But trust Mr. Calvino when it comes to make seemingly weak characters strong and one of the most dull situations interesting for his readers. The words flown from Calvino’s pen can render an act of staring at a ceiling fan as the most exciting adventure ever known to man, however, Mr. Palomar gives us something wider in scope which enshrouds not only his home or his local market but the whole universe including moon and stars (If Calvino won’t talk about celestial bodies then who will).

The book is divided into three parts and each part deals with a particular experience which helps Mr. Palomar in exploring various events and visuals in order to find answers about the bigger questions of life. Philosophical Enquiry is what it is called? It is but it’s something which carries the Calvinian trademark and gives us a whole new way to indulge in such philosophies without losing interest for a single moment. Mr. Palomar takes us to a beach where he observes the coming and going of the waves while waiting unsuccessfully for a repetition of a phenomenon and on the same beach he is trying his best about looking or not looking or looking in a most natural and decent (!) way at the naked bosom of a female bather. If you want to know how subtly the humor coated with right dose of irony can be used in a most successful fashion in fiction in very few words, then read this piece. In a similar way, Mr. Palomar observes love making between tortoises, tries to decipher the whistling of birds and makes an attempt in giving words to the silence. And when Mr. Palomar looks at the sky! The words thereof are like music to the ears. It makes you fall in love all over again with the stars in the night sky, the moon in the afternoon and the beauty of the world around us.

If the ancients had been able to see it as I see it now, Mr. Palomar thinks, they would have thought they had projected their gaze into the heaven of Plato's ideas, or in the immaterial space of the postulates of Euclid; but instead, thanks to some misdirection or other, this sight has been granted to me, who fear it is too beautiful to be true, too gratifying to my imaginary universe to belong to the real world. But perhaps it is this same distrust of our senses that prevents us from feeling comfortable in the universe. Perhaps the first rule I must impose on myself is this: stick to what I see.

Mr. Palomar journey further extends to a visit to his local supermarket, a zoo in Barcelona, Garden of rocks and sand of the Ryoanji of Kyoto in Japan and Ruins of Tula in Mexico. He looks, he observes, he contemplates, he draw conclusions but even on viewing the whole world as a museum where there’s hardly any entry charge, he’s not able to find a concrete relation of his existence with that of the universe. He feels the need of defining every moment, every instant of his being and also the need of finding a set pattern in the world which gives him the pleasure of knowing that he has lived his life the way it ought to be lived and the universe exist the way it ought to exist whether Mr. Palomar is a part of it or not. He is extremely unsure of himself and the gist of the matter is - he wants to be at peace with himself.

...the world around him moves in an unharmonious way, and he hopes always to find some pattern in it, a constant. Perhaps because he himself feels that his own advance is impelled by uncoordinated movements of the mind, which seem to have nothing to do with one another and are increasingly difficult to fit into any pattern of inner harmony.

Now, you see Calvino can’t do anything wrong in my eyes. With such books, I feel like he indulges me a lot and gladly accompany me in my insanity. He don’t even have to try to make me smile because his writing, which is carried out with a unique blend of intellect and easiness, does that effortlessly. It’s fascinating to see the extent of his observational skills and equally fascinating when those observations are given shape in form of words. But I’m reluctant in recommending this book to everyone. I can vouch for great writing but subject matter might not appeal to all, so read it when you want to read a little book with a big heart.

A person, for example, reads in adulthood a book that is important for him, and it makes him say, How could I have lived without having read it! and also, What a pity I did not read it in my youth! Well, these statements do not have much meaning, especially the second, because after he has read that book, his whole life becomes the life of a person who has read that book, and it is of little importance whether he read it early or late, because now his life before that reading also assumes a form shaped by that reading.

Italo Calvino with Jorge Luis Borges

[Algernon · Rating 5 out of 5]

A bit nearsighted, absent minded, introverted, he does not seem to belong temperamentally to that human type generally called an observer. And yet it has always happened that certain things – a stone wall, a seashell, a leaf, a teapot – present themselves to him as if asking him for a minute and prolonged attention: he starts observing them almost unawares and his gaze begins to run over all the details, and is then unable to detach itself.

I find it almost impossible to pick a favorite among the novels written by Italo Calvino. Each time I pick one up I get that big WOW feeling – so this is what it's like to be a true writer and poet, capable of turning your world upside down and making you fell like your IQ suddenly jumped up a couple of points . Mr Palomar is a marvelous gem of playful observation of the world that turns itself into a philosophical treatise of what it means to be human in a bewildering yet enchanting universe.

If it were not for his impatience to reach a complete, definitive conclusion of his visual operation, looking at waves would be a very restful exercise for him and could save him from neurasthenia, heart attack, and gastric ulcer. And it could perhaps be the key to mastering the world's complexity by reducing it to the simplest mechanism.

The novel is a series of vignettes, at first glance unrelated, describing the tribulations of an middle aged, middle-class family man with a curious habit of being often distracted during his daily activities by ordinary things that demand his undivided attention and lead him to flights of fancy of baroque exuberance. A garden philosopher and impromptu poet, Mr Palomar teeters on the brink between shower thoughts humour and philosophical essay, discovering universal patterns and meaning during his summer vacation at the beach, stargazing in the evening, tending his small city garden, going to the zoo or to foreign countries, shopping for meat or for cheese,going out in society or simply meditating in his easy chair. I'm not sure why, but his almost obsessive attention to detail makes me think of Richard Dreyfuss in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", playing with his food and seeing patterns of a bigger picture.

Palomar's mind has wandered, he has stopped pulling up weeds; he no longer thinks of the lawn: he thinks of the universe. He is trying to apply to the universe everything he has thought about the lawn. The universe as regular and ordered cosmos or as chaotic proliferation. The universe perhaps finite but countless, unstable within its borders, which discloses other universes within itself.

What is Mr. Palomar's secret? What makes him special and why his insights are important? In a modern world that seems interested only in shallow appearances and speed, Mr Palomar reminds us of the need to balance sensory input with analysis, to bridge western philosophy utilitarian view wit the oriental penchant for contemplation and meditation. In a world too crowded with intransigent, partisan polemics, he stresses the need for an open mind and an eye for diversity.

Mr. Palomar's gaze remains alert, available, released from all certitude.

also,
This is how birds think, or at least this is how Mr Palomar thinks, imagining himself a bird. "It is only after you have come to know the surface of things," he concludes, "that you venture to seek what is underneath. But the surface is inexhaustible."

Mr. Palomar is not a preacher. Most of his revelations are intimate and not so easy to communicate to others. His reluctance to embrace a cause or a fashionable trend is a point in his favour in my opinion. The questing mind is more concerned with asking the right questions than with laws written on stone tablets.

If he sometimes tries to speak up, he realizes that all are too intent on the theses they are defending to pay any attention to what he is trying to clarify to himself.
The fact is that he would like not so much to affirm a truth of his own as to ask questions, and he realizes that no one wants to abandon the train of his own discourse to answer questions that, coming from another discourse, would necessitate rethinking the same things with other words, perhaps ending up on stranger ground, far from safe paths.

What else can I say about Mr. Palomar? For me, he is probably the closest the author has come to write himself into one of his novels. I have noticed this commentary on the art of writing present in other books by Italo Calvino, but Palomar has I believe more than an inquisitive mind. He has the soul, the sensibility of the poet, of a translator for us mere mortals of the language of waves, of blades of grass, of a sparrow's flight path, of a sweet shop's display window, of constellations in the night sky or of obscure antique bass-reliefs.

He knows he could never suppress in himself the need to translate, to move from one language to another, from concrete figures to abstract words, to weave and re-weave a network of analogies. Not to interpret is impossible, as refraining from thinking is impossible.

The translation aspect of poetry is to be found in the most surprising places, as I have already mentioned, but one in particular (a visit to a Toltec pyramid) made me press the highlight button on my reader:

The teacher says, "This is the wall of serpents. Each serpent has a skull in his mouth. We don't know what they mean."
Mr. Palomar's friend cannot contain himself: "Yes, we do! It's the continuity of life and death; the serpents are life, the skulls are death. Life is life because it bears death with it, and death is death because there is no life without death ..."

One of the sketches reminds me strongly of Julio Cortazar and his Axolotl story: we may look at the world, but the world is also looking back at us. Palomar goes to see an albino gorilla in a zoo:

From it he can have a glimpse of what for man is the search for an escape from the dismay of living: investing oneself in things, recognizing oneself in signs, transforming the world into a collection of symbols; a first daybreak of culture in the long biological night.

The spectacle of the outside world is a source of never ending wonder for Mr. Palomar, much better than television in his opinion. "There is no cure for curiosity" says one of my favorite Goodreads quotes, but curiosity is just the first step on the road to illumination. Translation, interpretation, analogy, synthesis should be companions of mere observation if we are to learn anything from experience.

The choice between television and gecko is not always made without some hesitation, each of the two spectacles has some information to offer that the other does not provide: the television ranges over continents gathering luminous impulses that describe the visible face of things; the gecko, on the other hand, represents immobile concentration and the hidden side, the obverse of what is displayed to the eye.

So, towards the end of this funny yet very serious novel, Mr Palomar turns his questing eye inward and towards more abstract thought patterns:

We can know nothing about what is outside us, if we overlook ourselves, the universe is the mirror in which we contemplate only what we have learned to know in ourselves.
And thus this new phase of his itinerary in search of wisdom is also achieved. Finally his gaze can rove freely inside himself. What will he see? Will his inner world seem to him an immense, calm rotation of a luminous spiral? Will he see stars and planets navigating in silence on the parabolas and ellipses that determine character and destiny? Will he contemplate a sphere of infinite circumference that has the ego as its center and its center in every point?

Highest recommendation!

[مجیدی‌ام · Rating 2 out of 5]

تجربه کتاب آقای پالومار برای من مثل تجربه کتاب دنیای سوفی بود.
کتابی که سعی کرده بود در قالب داستان، بحث های فلسفی یاد آدم بده! ولی در نهایت هم در داستان سرایی شکست خورده بود هم در فلسفه.
آقای پالومار، داستان نیست، رمان نیست، خط داستانی نداره و کلا افکار ذهنی یک پیرمرده! البته اگر بشه اسمشو گذاشت پیرمرد.

اگر دنبال یک داستان خوب از کالوینو هستید، این کتاب رو نخونید.
کالوینو رمان خوب هم داره، که البته من خودم هم اشتباه کردم و به عنوان اولین کتاب از کالوینو اینو خوندم! ولی به زودی میرم سراغ رمان هاش. خلاصه، برای یک داستان خوب از این نویسنده، این کتاب رو نخونید.
اگر دنبال یاد گرفتن فلسفه زندگی و دید جهان بینی و این داستان ها هم هستید، باز این کتاب رو نخونید! این کتاب در این زمینه هم شکست خورده و نتونسته خوب حق مطلب رو ادا کنه.

تنها نکته مثبت کتاب، جمله هایی بود که شاید از هر ده صحفه، یک پاراگراف واقعا خوب بود و میشد بهش فکر کرد.

اگر وقت زیاد دارید، و این کتاب هم خیلی ارزون به پستتون خورد، بخونید. وگرنه اگر بخوام نظر شخصیم رو بگم، این کتاب چیزی به من اضافه نکرد، متاسفانه، حتی حسرت لذت بردن از یک داستان خوب رو هم به دلم نشوند!

امتیاز کتاب یک و نیم ستاره! که من رندش کردم به دو ستاره، به احترام اسم کالوینو.

[Ajeje Brazov · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ogni volta che inizio un libro di Calvino, è come se stessi entrando in un mondo sconosciuto. Potrà sembrare banale, ma la particolarità delle storie, sta nel forte impatto riflessivo, che l'autore impregna le pagine. Autore unico ed ineguagliabile, qui penso che arrivi al suo culmine.
Palomar, ultimo romanzo che scrisse, raggiunge picchi di riflessione sociale ed ambientale, che poche volte ho letto, soprattutto per la particolarità del come sia stato scritto, del come sia stato ideato. Perchè se stessimo parlando di un classico libro come spunti di riflessione, allora potremmo essere di fronte a molti autori, anche stupefacenti, ma Calvino è un'altra storia, è qualcosa che travalica il senso stesso di romanzo, di opera letteraria. Qui, ormai autore con alle spalle varie e tra le più straordinarie opere letterarie di tutti i tempi, per esempio I nostri antenati, Calvino in là con l'età, si mette, come se fosse ad un balcone che dia sul mondo intero che lo circonda, a speculare sul perchè, sul come e sul cosa sia il mondo e contemporaneamente se stesso e...
Capolavoro unico!

[Michael · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a sprightly and accessible tour of the mind of an ordinary man on a quest to see the world in simpler, truer terms and thereby reduce his anxiety with its confusion and paradoxes. In a series of 27 vignettes, he takes his common experience from the natural and human world as a series of problems in looking and interpreting the nature of reality. These little episodes or essays sometimes have the flavor of whimsy, sometimes of spiritual mediation, and other times of what you could be considered natural language philosophy. The character often seems brave in his dedication and other times foolish for proceeding with no attempt at recourse to accomplishments of scientists and philosophers.

For some reason Calvino put the table of contents and information about a pattern to its segments at the back of the book. Maybe he expects the reader will get a special pleasure from discovering that on his own. Thus, in simplified terms I say only that a prospective reader should expect a progression with each three vignettes from a perceptual issue, to one concerned with human meanings and symbols, and ending with one that focuses on an abstract topic dealing with time, the cosmos, or relations between the self and the world.

Settings for the reveries are diverse, including the beach on vacation, his garden and terrace in Rome, a trip to the zoo, shopping for food in Paris, a visit to a Zen garden in Japan, and a stop with tourists at an archeological site with carvings related to human sacrifice in Mexico. In most cases he ends with lessons learned about the contrasting realities of different perspectives and the challenges in harmonizing the relativity of truth.

In one of my favorite pieces, he experiences while swimming at dusk the a sword of light sparkling in the water that moves with him.
“This is a special homage the sun pays to me personally,” Mr. Palomar is tempted to think, or rather, the egocentric megalomaniac ego that dwells in him is tempted to think. But the depressive and self-wounding ego that dwells with the other in the same container, rebuts, “Everyone with eyes sees the reflection that follows him; illusion of the senses and of the mind holds us all prisoners, always.” A third tenant, a more even-handed ego, speaks up: “This means that, no matter what, I belong to the feeling and thinking subjects, capable of establishing a relationship with the sun’s rays, and of interpreting and evaluating perceptions and illusions.
“All this is happening not on the sea, but in the sun,” the swimmer Mr.Palomar thinks, but inside my head, in the circuits between eyes and brain. I am swimming in my mind; this sword of light exists only there; and this is precisely what attracts me. This is my element. The only one I can know in some way”.

That may be a little abstract and dreamy for your taste, though I believe most of us have experienced a comparable satori without putting it in words. In one of the pieces I like that sheds light on human elements, he touched my heart over his innocence and the lonely isolation he is putting himself into. In this one he is dwelling on the possible meanings of the two-note calls of blackbirds to each other and the potential significance of the silence between calls. He recognizes how the telegraphic utterances between him and his wife (she says “Here they are” and he follows with “Sshh”) may share a lot of comparable hidden meanings. As usual, he has no easy summary of the knowledge he gains from his efforts:
The equal whistle of man and blackbird seems to him a bridge thrown over the abyss
…between what and what? Nature and culture? Silence and speech? Mr.Palomar always hopes that silence contains more than language can say. But what if language was really the goal toward which everything in existence tends? Or what if everything that exists were language and has been since the beginning of time? Here Mr. Palomar is again gripped by anguish.
As an example on one of his whimsical pieces, a visit to a Paris cheese shop has him torn between wanting to taste everything and the urge to home exactly the cheese that somehow is his alone. Each one seems the “legacy of a knowledge accumulated by a civilization through all its history and geography.” I empathize with this reflection:
There is a reciprocal relationship between cheese and customer: each cheese awaits its customer, poses so as to attract him, with a firmness or somewhat hauty graininess, or, on the contrary, by melting in submissive abandon.

Toward the end he begins to question his own enterprise. The looking at the world through the windows of his eyes as a source of true knowledge is undermined by his own mind being part of that world. And the uncertain veracity of the world looking at the world depends on his choice of what to look at and the timing of the looking. Looking at the stars uplifts him with a sense of infinite space and timelessness, but renders his own life as insignificant. An epiphany about connectedness of it all leads him to the absurdity that a compression in the Andromeda Galaxy might influence the freshness of his watercress. Still, it seems clear that knowledge of the larger reality depends on knowledge of his own self and that he needs to learn to be more social to achieve the ease of special people who always seem to know the right things to say and be able to help others do the same. They seem to truly be in harmony with the world: “To the man who is the friend of the universe, the universe is a friend”. By comparison “everything he says or does proves clumsy, jarring, irresolute”, and in turn comforts of looking at the starry sky begins to acquire the perspective of a “stalled mechanism, which jerks and creaks in all its unoiled joints, outposts of and endangered universe, twisted, restless as he is. He turns to the ultimate task of imagining the harmony of being dead, an ultimate irony for Mr. Palomar’s admirable quest and suitable conclusion to this elegant parable about the human journey.

[Siti · Rating 5 out of 5]

Palomar " tende a ridurre le proprie relazioni con il mondo esterno e per difendersi dalla nevrastenia generale cerca quanto più può di tenere le sue sensazioni sotto controllo".

Chi è Palomar?
E' un personaggio fuori dai canoni anche se è lui l'indiscusso protagonista in un susseguirsi di azioni (minime ed essenziali ) ma soprattutto di riflessioni. Il suo nome è quello di un famoso osservatorio astronomico in California. Il suo ragionamento continuo gli rovina il piacere di alcuni gesti ma ci regala infinite possibilità di pensare.
Muovendoci in un insieme di nove racconti per tre sezioni, per un totale di ventisette bozzetti, tutti rigorosamente senza cornice, ci affidiamo al suo essere pensante.
Gustiamo la certezza dell' illusione dei sensi e della mente nei tortuosi suoi pensieri e cerchiamo di cogliere tutte le considerazioni verso le quali Calvino ha voluto che ci soffermassimo.
Coni e bastoncelli e teoria del colore, rilettura dell' EROS, considerazioni ambientaliste, fine semiologia.
Il ritratto di un Io molteplice: l'Io megalomane, l'Io egocentrico, l'Io depressivo, L' Io autolesionista, l'Io parziale....

Una perla di rara e raffinata intelligenza, una scrittura poetica, un saggio sull'animo umano che ti strappa anche momenti (quasi tutti nei finali) di squisita ironia. Spesso la discrepanza tra ciò che Palomar fa e ciò che appare stia facendo genera ilarità in chi lo vede all' azione- contemplazione.

Una efficace e sintetica guida alla lettura è contenuta prima dell'indice e aiuta a capire il tenore delle aree tematiche affrontate e la tipologia di scrittura verso la quale tendono.

Ho gustato tutto prediligendo l'area dell'esperienza visiva ( "Le vacanze di Palomar" ) ma mi sono divertita maggiormente tra Roma e Parigi in " Palomar in città (" Palomar fa la spesa" è squisito!!).
Lo consiglio anche perché è un'opera d'arte, nascosta dallo strano destino e dall' ingiusta Fortuna, che merita di essere conosciuta e, spero, apprezzata.

[Nate D · Rating 3 out of 5]

Calvino's bittersweet final "novel": a series of reflections on humanity's relationship to the universe, to the world, to itself. Mr. Palomar, named of a telescope is a perfect observer, always alert and alert to his own alertness, seeking a maximum of receptivity to his surroundings, attempting with a modest diligence to make sense of existence. The question of how best to do this is, of course, complicated -- its nuances, broken in so many sub-examples, compose this book. Encyclopedic and rigorously-structured in a 3 x 3 x 3 lattice, Mr. Palomar and his musings are nonetheless much more human than mechanical. In fact, fact, this may be Calvino's most unrestrainedly philosophic work.

As the trajectory moves slowly from exterior to interior and from observation to introspection, we also move from the minutia of daily life to a quietly cosmic scale, in the face of which there is little place for grand statements or gestures (for what could the real significance of such a motion be in the face of the entire universe?) But even the universe is ultimately finite, in breadth and length. And so there is an endpoint to all contemplation, to this book, and sadly, two years after this was published in 1983, to the life of Italo Calvino.

[Darwin8u · Rating 5 out of 5]

In Genesis god Gives Adam the job of naming the animals. He gave the rest of the task to Mr Palomar. I loved almost everything about this little beauty. I loved how it was structured. I loved the poetry of the prose. I loved how the bow on the whole thing was cinched tight at the very end. It was beautiful and simple as a star, a flower, or a wave. Like Borges, it is hard to walk away from one of Calvino's book out of the same door you approached. You finished a Borges or Calvino novel and the world you emerge back into has changed and shifted. There are more colors, another perspective, and your brain has just been folded into a new shape. This novel doesn't get as much attention as Invisible Cities, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler, or the The Baron in the Trees, but it definitely belongs on the same shelf.

[Argos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Her ne kadar üzerinde roman yazsa da bu incecik kitap bir roman değil, hatta novella bile değil. Bir otobiyografi denemesi ama Calvino’vari. Bay Palomar yazarın ta kendisi. Hayatının belli kesitlerini, farklı mekanlardaki düşünce ve davranışlarını o keskin gözlem gücünün yarattığı mükemmel betimlemelerle anlatıyor.

Düşünceleriyle birlikte ruh halini de aktarıyor Calvino. Bazen denizdeki bir dalgayı bazen gökyüzündeki yıldızları gözlemliyor ve düşünce akışı içinde bir sonuca varmaya çabalıyor. Kaplumbağaların sevişmesini izliyor, karatavuğun ıslığını dinliyor ve sorguluyor. Kasap, peynirci, hayvanat bahçesi, kumsallar gezdiği mekanlardan birkaçı.

Zen tapınağına, Aztek tapınaklarına gidiyor ve gördüklerini düşünüyor. Onun düşünce sistematiğini “her peynirin ardında, değişik bir gök altındaki değişik yeşilli bir otlak vardır” cümlesiyle, kendi sözleriyle tanımlayabiliriz. Belki de farkında olmadan bilgelik peşinde koşuyor. Sonunda işi ölmüş gibi davranmaya kadar götürüyor. Ölü olmanın zorluğunu da görüyor. Kendini tanımak için gösterdiği bunca gayretin yaşamda karşılığı olmadığını farkediyor.

Italo Calvino okumak isteyenlere ilk okunacak kitabın Palomar olmadığını ısrarla vurgularım. Calvino’yu severseniz okumak için bu kitabı sonlara bırakın.

[Dora Silva · Rating 5 out of 5]

Adorei, uma leitura diferente daquilo que estou habituada a ler, mas adorei. Quero ler mais de Italo Calvino.
Que narrativa fascinante.
Recomendo 5 ⭐'s.

[Tony]

Mr. Palomar, as the name suggests, is an observant soul. When he goes on vacation, to the beach, he contemplates a wave, thoroughly. He notices a woman sunbathing topless, and strolls back and forth in front of her, trying out different postures to appear not to be observing her. She is ultimately not amused. He then waits till the sun starts to sink, and observes himself dive in, and knife toward the horizon.

He observes his lawn, an albino gorilla, a gecko. He, Calvino, is at his best when Mr. Palomar observes two blackbirds whistling, maybe at each other, at the same time that Mrs. Palomar starts chirping at him, a juxtaposition I am half acquainted with.

He looks upwards to the stars, the planets, as he surely must, and eventually looks at his own death.

This is often profound but sometimes trite, and as the picture on the cover of my edition suggests, ....



.... can be a little creepy at times.

[Ben Winch · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came to Calvino late. As a curious/voracious young adult I read If on a winter’s night a traveller, thought it pointless, and aside from fragments didn’t try him again for twenty years. The density, the language, the playful intellectualness – none of that was the problem. But I was a Borges fan and I demanded some heartshock with my mindgames – some dizzying vertigo or glimpse of the abyss. Whether, in other works, Calvino offers this I can’t say: since my two-decades hiatus I’ve read only Mr Palomar and a few stories from his much earlier Adam, One Afternoon (which seemed empty and over-slick and almost put me off all over again). But, perhaps owing to my mellowing with middle-age, I realise the fear and trembling stemming from Poe through Kafka to Borges is not the be-all and end-all – that, in light of my more recent love affair with his younger countryman Antonio Tabucchi, Calvino’s – at least in Mr Palomar – is in some ways a perfect temperament for me, so long as he’s balanced with grittier writers to offset his arch impersonality.

Reasons Mr Palomar suits my current state of mind:

1. It’s a travel-book, by an author who isn’t travelling. Or let’s say he’s travelling – to and from the shops, the zoo, the beach – but with the gaze of a visitor, a stranger, which makes of even his stepping outside to the garden a minor revelation.

2. It’s a meditation. It tempts us not (like Poe/Kafka/Borges) to search in dreams and fantasy for paradox, but to find it here, in the everyday: “‘It is only after you have come to know the surface of things,’ he concludes, ‘that you venture to seek what is underneath. But the surface is inexhaustible.’”

3. It’s a writing-guide, a series of exercises, a catalogue. It bears testament to no extraordinary life of any kind, save the special skill in looking and describing possessed by its author. Like the late works of Beckett, it shows what can be cultivated in a void, at least as that term “void” applies to common forms of inspiration. Characters? Barely. Plot? None. “Drama” stemming from “experience” in the histrionic/melodramatic sense? Not at all. It makes of growing old, of “losing the fire”, of pottering in the garden – of all these things, a virtue.

All of this I need to hear and see and believe right now, when my young man’s wander- and experience-lust is no longer something I can integrate into my chosen lifestyle. That Mr Palomar is also episodic, discontinuous, made of 20+ (27, to be exact – 9x3) miniature fragments which speak to and enhance each other but are nevertheless self-contained – that too suits my current state of mind. With 12 (never more than 12; that way lies madness) part-finished books piled by my bedside, Mr Palomar is a powerful anchor, always reliable, its 27 prongs gripping deep into what is actual. To inhabit only its world might be a trial, even suffocating. This is a book for in-between states, for “also” moments. I’m reading Emma Tennant, Danilo Kis, Karapanou’s The Sleepwalker and also Mr Palomar. But in that “also” is the distinction of the other. In the world of books, too, Mr Palomar is a stranger. One of a kind.

[Nahed.E · Rating 2 out of 5]

القراءة الأولي لـ إيتالو كالفينو .. ولكن
...



علي الرغم من كونها رواية تأملية وفلسفية للغاية .. إلا أنني صراحة لم اندمج كثيراً مع أفكار السيد بالومار !!
فالرواية بأكملها تتحدث عن رجل يحيا في عالمه الخاص .. وتأملاته الشخصية التي لا تدع له مجالا للتفكير في شئ أخر سوي هذه الأفكار الفلسفية والتساؤلات التي لا يجد لها إجابات شافية !
فالعالم كله بكل ما فيه من كائنات وأصوات ومواقف هو غابة من التساؤلات المتشابكة ... ولكنها يا سيدي لم تجعلني أتشابك معها في دوامات الفكر والتأمل ..
فلقد كنت بعيدة طوال الكتاب . أقرأ عنك .. ولا أقرأ معك !!
كنت أشاهدك من بعيد .. كمن يشاهد شخصاً يلوح له من خلف لوح زجاجي ...
يشاهده .. ولا يسمعه ... !

ولكن ..
لن تكوني قراءتي الوحيدة لكالفينو ..
فلن أحكم عليه من هذه القراءة فقط

[Andrea · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ultima opera pubblicata in vita da Italo Calvino, questo romanzo espone le descrizioni, le sensazioni e le meditazioni del signor Palomar, un uomo introverso, taciturno, puntiglioso, talvolta ansioso e d'animo irrequieto, un uomo come tanti che passa la propria esistenza alternandosi tra l'abitazione cittadina e la casa al mare, tra i viaggi intorno al mondo e le visite alle botteghe alimentari. A differenza di molti, tuttavia, Palomar è capace di soffermarsi su ciò che gli sta intorno, è in grado di osservare gli oggetti materiali ed i fenomeni fisici, ma anche di analizzare e di astrarre con il ragionamento le molteplici scene di vita quotidiana. Volendo evitare, senza peraltro riuscirci pienamente, le sensazioni vaghe, motivo di angoscia, Palomar rivolge le sue attenzioni su oggetti limitati e precisi: per dirla con le parole di Calvino, “Palomar, il cui nome viene dal famoso osservatorio astronomico californiano, tende verso l'alto, il fuori, i multiformi aspetti dell'universo, vede i fatti minimi della vita quotidiana in prospettiva cosmica” e ancora, “il nome richiama un potente telescopio, ma l'attenzione di questo personaggio pare si posi solo sulle cose che gli capitano sotto gli occhi nella vita quotidiana, scrutate nei minimi dettagli con un ossessivo scrupolo di precisione”.
Nelle sue osservazioni, Palomar non giunge mai a delle conclusioni certe, ma tutto ciò che sembra trovare nei suoi ragionamenti è mutevole, allo stesso tempo attendibile e confutabile, e l'assenza di una verità assoluta, questa condizione di vaghezza, è perenne fonte di angoscia, di turbamento. Nonostante tutto, Palomar continua nella sua ricerca, si concentra su nuovi oggetti, li analizza e li scompone, distrugge le sue ipotesi e giunge sempre alle stesse conclusioni, ed ogni volta ricomincia da capo. Ed ogni volta, l'unica risposta cui sembra giungere con il suo pensiero è che la realtà che lo circonda sia insondabile nella sua completezza, e che i suoi strumenti conoscitivi di essere umano siano necessariamente limitati e inadatti, e che sempre egli sarà impossibilitato a conoscere la totalità dell'universo e ad esprimerlo col suo linguaggio. Palomar stesso conclude, in uno dei suoi ragionamenti: “Solo dopo aver conosciuto la superficie delle cose, ci si può spingere a cercare quel che c'è sotto. Ma la superficie delle cose è inesauribile”. L'uomo non è affatto centro e padrone dell'universo, la verità è dunque irraggiungibile, la realtà insondabile e incomunicabile, ma non per questo Palomar si dà per vinto, persistendo nella sua attività di osservazione e di speculazione, nel suo percorso di conoscenza e di esercizio della ragione e del dubbio.
Quest'opera potrebbe ben definirsi come la somma di diverse scene di vita quotidiana di Palomar: in particolare, come la somma di 27 episodi, organizzati, con un criterio che fonde rigore scientifico e creatività intellettuale, armonia matematica e bellezza speculativa, in tre parti numerate (“1. Le vacanze di Palomar”, “2. Palomar in città” e “3. I silenzi di Palomar”), dove i numeri 1, 2 e 3 hanno un significato preciso per l'autore. A sua volta, ogni parte consta di tre capitoli (indovinate?, anch'essi numerati con 1, 2 e 3), ed ogni capitolo di tre episodi (manco a dirlo, anch'essi numerati con 1, 2 e 3), disposti in modo che il primo (contrassegnato dal numero 1) descriva un'esperienza sensoriale, il secondo (contrassegnato dal numero 2) indaghi un aspetto antropologico o culturale in senso lato, il terzo (contrassegnato dal numero 3) si occupi di una considerazione speculativa, un'attività mentale. Oltre agli episodi, i numeri 1, 2 e 3 rimandano a questo triplice ordine anche per quanto riguarda i capitoli e le parti del romanzo. Ecco che dunque la narrazione procederà gradualmente dall'ambito fisico e sensoriale verso quello mentale e speculativo. Questo elemento paratestuale è dunque fondamentale nell'opera, rendendola un caposaldo tra i romanzi psicologico-filosofici, una delle migliori opere della letteratura italiana del secondo Novecento, che ha saputo sperimentare ed osare sia nella forma che nel contenuto, e che ha fornito nuovi spunti al movimento postmoderno. Palomar, opera breve ma non facile, è una di quelle rare letture in grado di cambiare il modo di vedere e di pensare le cose, anche quelle piccole ed apparentemente insignificanti.
Che si soffermi a studiare la propagazione di un'onda marina o che sia indeciso su come comportarsi di fronte ad una bagnante a seno scoperto, che si trovi a riflettere sulla vita amorosa delle tartarughe o che cerchi di decifrare il linguaggio fischiettante dei merli, che si sforzi di definire i confini e la composizione di un prato o che contempli i corpi celesti, che si estranei a pensare alle implicazioni culturali del cibo, base materiale dell'esistenza umana, o che si domandi cosa ci sia dietro una forma di formaggio francese o che rapporto sussista tra l'uomo e il bovino, che si trovi a constatare l'impossibilità di raggiungere la felicità dei monaci zen o di definire il significato di una statua tolteca, che si angosci e si arrovelli su cosa e su quando sia opportuno dire o tacere, o che rimugini sul vivere e sul morire, Palomar ci fa sorridere della sua involontaria comicità (e qui Calvino usa l'ironia, che è anche autoironia dal momento che l'autore si immedesima in Palomar, in modo sublime), ma ci fa anche riflettere profondamente e ci fa interrogare sulla nostra condizione, rendendoci partecipi dei suoi pensieri, dei suoi dubbi e delle sue incertezze. Ed è proprio questa imperfezione che rende umano Palomar, proprio questa consapevolezza di essere limitato a renderlo desideroso di conoscere, bisognoso di porsi domande e di tentare ostinatamente di giungere a delle difficili, se non impossibili, risposte. Quello che importa, del resto, non è il punto di arrivo ma il percorso per arrivarci e, come ebbe a dire lo stesso Calvino, “la storia di Palomar si può riassumere in due frasi: un uomo si mette in marcia per raggiungere, passo a passo, la saggezza. Non è ancora arrivato”.

[Özgür Atmaca · Rating 2 out of 5]

Calvino, Kendi Yer ve Gök tanrısını yaratma fikrini fazla ütopik bulmuş olacak ki Palomar ile yetinmiş. Bu bile fazlasıyla yetiyor aslında. Palomar, kitap boyunca size doğadan hayvanlara, yemek kültüründen seyahate kadar türlü mecraya kendi gözlem ve eleştiriyle anlatmak istiyor ama kendi çalıp kendi söylüyor da diyebiliriz.
Bölümler, alıntılar karmakarışık bir anlatıma sahip. Palomar'ın durduk yere yerden türeyen bir derviş edası var ki o en komik olan. Son bölümde bir serbest fikir geçişi var o biraz kıpırtı yapacakken kitap bitiyor. Okunmaması büyük bir kayıp değil.

[Hameed Younis · Rating 3 out of 5]

لا يشترط على الجميع ان يتذوقوا اعمال كالفينو أو يفهموا ما يصبو اليه، ليس لأن أعماله صعبة او غير مستساغة.. بالعكس، بل لأنها دقيقة وعميقة. فتراه مثلاً يقف على الشرفة أو على الشاطئ ويشرع بتخيل وتصوّر ما لا يوجد بالحسبان من خيالات
قرأت الكتاب ترجمة ياسين طه حافظ وحين قارنتها بترجمة بسام الحجار لم أجد الفرق الكبير، كلا التارجم رائعة واحترافية

[Giorgio Compagno · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nessuno meglio di Palomar porta a risvegliare il pensiero. Da rendere obbligatorio nelle scuole.

[Emma · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had to read this for university and I must say I quite enjoyed it. The book is composed by a variety of observations and reflections made by the protagonist Palomar. Some of them definitely offered me some insightful and interesting topics to think about.
Even though I prefer other works by Calvino, I still recommend this book.

[7jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read the Finnish translation, bought by my father in 1988 (I can see easily why he would’ve gotten it now that I have read it :) ). This was the last novel released in the author's lifetime. I felt that I should read another Calvino novel, so I read this one because it was the slimmer one of my two unread Calvino ones on my shelf.

Here is the story of how Mr Palomar observes the world, one part at a time, trying to form a bigger pictures of the world that would make the world make more sense, and give him a better peace of mind of being in it. He is married with a daughter, travels occasionally (here in an Italian seaside town, Barcelona, Paris, Kyoto, Tala (Mexico), and some Orient country where he buys slippers), smokes a pipe, wears glasses, lives in Rome in an upper-floor flat with a view over the city, and is more of a thinker than a speaker. In the last chapter he seems to die, but it’s not completely clear if it happens for real, for he is imagining how he behaves like he’s dead even while still living.

The book is laid out in a certain way, explained in the back of the book here. Mains are: on a vacation, in the city, and quiet thoughts. Then smaller mains: on a beach, in a garden, looking at the sky; on a roof terrace, food shopping, at a zoo; traveling, talking with people; philosophical pondering.

He views each object of his attention in length, as a whole, in its details and variations. Occasionally this lead to embarrassment, which can be amusing sometimes, but you do sometimes think he was just asking for trouble (see the chapter about him trying to see how to approach and go by a woman sunbathing topless; of course taking so many times to go makes gets him noticed eventually). But it’s nice to see how some humor enters the stories here and there. He’s more learning towards being an introvert; he wants to make sense of the world, wants it to have some sense and rules, but the world isn’t really like that.

My favorite chapters: the one about the waves was a good start for the book; the three chapters about looking at the night sky; the starlings in Rome; the cheese shop. The book reminded me of “Invisible Cities” - another Calvino book, about various imagined cities – the observation of various things was quite rich, with a view on how Mr Palomar tried to make sense of things, what his attitudes and feelings were about each, and so on. The places and the times of year when each scene happens also vary nicely.

While a bit plain (and in some cases I didn’t agree with him, thus 3.5 stars), it was interesting to see what sort of wholes, details, and variations he could find in each chapter, and this might make the reader want to sometimes same kind of observation on things one meets in life, and ponder on the meanings of things. A great read.

[Katie Lumsden · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is quite a strange little book, but I think I enjoyed it.

[Tsvetelina Mareva · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ето от този човек - господин Паломар, имах нужда. Вглъбен, леко смахнат, мълчалив, анализиращ всяко на пръв поглед незабележимо нещо от всекидневието, оплитащ се в мисловен поток, на границата между гениално прозрение и откровен нонсенс.
Твърди се, че симпатичният чичко (казано с цялото умиление, на което съм способна) е алтер-его на самия Итало Калвино и че в тази книга той описва голяма част от себе си. Дали докато е на плажа и наблюдава една конкретна вълна, с която иска да си обясни мистериите на Вселената и да си подреди света, дали докато в зоопарка наблюдава странните жестове на жирафите, или докато е на опашка в магазина за сирене, размишлявайки дали човек избира сиренето си, или е избран от него, Паломар изкусно ни подхвърля философски задачи, маскирани зад привидно битови преживявания.

Ето такива бисерчета има в книгата:

"В едно време и една страна, където всички се надпреварват да изразяват своите мнения и оценки, господин Паломар е възприел навика да си прехапва три пъти езика, преди да изложи каквото и да е свое твърдение. Ако при третото прехапване на езика все още е убеден в онова, което се е готвел да каже, той го изрича. Иначе мълчи. Фактически прекарва цели седмици и месеци в мълчание."

"Никой не поглежда следобедната луна, а в този момент тя има най-голяма нужда от нашето внимание, тъй като нейното съществуване е все още под въпрос. Сега представлява белезникава сянка, която се откроява на яркосиньото небе, изпълнено със слънчева светлина. Кой може да ни увери, че и този път ще успее да се сдобие с форма и блясък?"

[L.S. Popovich · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mr. Palomar, Calvino mentions elsewhere, is another one of his literary exercises. It is not as fascinating or developed as Cosmicomics or Winter's Night, but a worthwhile read. Mr. Palomar observes various phenomena, draws cosmic and personal connections, and then moves on. He is more a mouthpiece or a device for the author than a character. The observations are astute and frequently fascinating, though disconnected, arbitrary and exotic. Whether he is examining the sunset or an albino gorilla, our narrator always has a skewed and charming perspective. There is less knowledge and more humor and pathos in these contrived scenes.

An enjoyable, languorous atmosphere beset with gem-like set-pieces. A metaphorical journey through the mind of a literary master and more polished than his other books of reminiscences.

This is still a minor work of slight literary interest, and I would recommend The Cloven Viscount or Nonexistent Knight for those new to the author.

[Federica Rampi · Rating 5 out of 5]

.

“L'universo forse può andar tranquillo per i fatti suoi; lui certamente no.”



Il signor Palomar, cerca in tutti i modi una via di fuga da quel mondo che si è dimenticato di prendersi una pausa, troppo preso dalla smania del chiacchiericcio quotidiano
La fuga la trova nella contemplazione attraverso le esperienze sensoriali: visive, uditive, intellettuali che lo accompagnano ovunque.
Ed è così che il signor Palomar passeggia fra i giardini di uno zoo e osserva, insieme a moglie e figlia, giraffe, scimpanzé e tartarughe.
Resta affascinato anche dalla quiete del suo giardino dove il tempo è scandito dal canto dei merli “Ma è un dialogo, oppure ogni merlo fischia per sé e non per l'altro?” e fra la gente in coda dal macellaio.
Ma passeggiando riflette anche sul tabù della nudità, come sulla spiaggia quando getta fugaci occhiate al seno scoperto di una giovane donna e medita su come fare per non mostrarsi troppo invadente o indifferente, volendo apprezzare ma con pudore e senza malintesi , ciò che è piacevole e fresco alla sua vista.
Non c’è nulla di male a rendere giustizia alla bellezza, nella vita è importante osservare

Ma il signor Palomar traduce in riflessioni l’atto del posare gli occhi sulle piccole cose che la natura offre e di cui pochi si accorgono andando oltre il guardare, piuttosto pensare alle differenze tra le foglie, al vento e ai pollini …
È così, che di fronte a un prato, smette di strappare le erbacce e ragiona sull’universo, regolare ma caotico, dai confini instabili, capace di accogliere altri universi
Il signor Paloma mai smetterà di vedere, di conoscere il mondo, gli altri e sé stesso , mai sarà appagato, perché l’apparenza della semplicità è una sfida alla comprensione profonda, da affrontare con leggerezza

Calvino, ha ancora una volta compiuto un piccolo miracolo: dall’ intreccio tra finzione e realtà, ha celebrato il singolare nella sua unicità, mettendolo a confronto con la disarmonia del mondo.
La parte più affascinante di Palomar resta per me la riflessione sul silenzio, l’arte del tacere, la più difficile: una lotta, tanto vana quanto essenziale, contro la morte.

[Nathanimal · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I was writing in school we were encouraged towards 'iceberg' fiction, that minimalist mode of Checkov and Hemingway that approaches big, weighty subjects with head bowed and eyes turned away. This is, thankfully, the exact opposite of that. Take some tiny-nothing and expand and elaborate and extrapolate until it encompasses the whole world.

Mr. Palomar is the ontological Mr. Bean. Mr. Bean rides around in that little golf cart having elaborate adventures trying to get his socks on; similarly, Mr. Palomar will make a spectacle of himself simply sitting on a deck chair and looking up at the stars or looking at cheese behind a deli counter. His life is small and quiet, his world (much to his frustration) is huge, ungraspable. I identify greatly with Mr. Palomar. Long live Mr. Palomar! Except he dies at the end. Long live the death of Mr. Palomar!

[Savasandir · Rating 5 out of 5]

L'universo è lo specchio in cui possiamo contemplare solo ciò che abbiamo imparato a conoscere di noi.

[Mèo lười · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cuốn này lẽ ra nên đọc chậm và đọc liền mạch. Lẽ ra nên vừa đọc vừa uống trà như mấy vị hiền triết xưa. Và nếu có thể, chắc nên dựng chòi trên núi mà đọc.

(mình đùa đấy)

Ấy thế mà mình đọc nó giữa lúc cuộc đời xô bồ, giữa lúc mình ngày đêm coi phim siêu anh hùng cute hột me. ._. Thành thử ra, mình chẳng thực hiện được điều nào kể trên.

Trở lại cuốn sách, Mr Palomar hẳn là một người nhạy cảm quá đỗi, một ngọn gió lướt qua cũng đủ làm chàng ngập chìm suy tư. Chưa kể, cảnh 2 con rùa mần nhau cũng được nhuốm màu triết học : ))))

Còn nếu không nhạy cảm thì Mr Palomar hay Italo Calvino hẳn phải là một nhà quan sát đại tài. Những sự vật, hiện tượng bình thường trong cuộc sống, kiểu ta dễ dàng phất tay mà bảo 'xời, có gì đặc biệt chứ', qua lăng kính của Palomar mà chủ mưu là Italo thật...hại não. Hại não nhưng không dứt được ._. như một loại thuốc phiện đóng tập.

Chắc mình bị quá liều rồi. ._.

[T. Reilly · Rating 5 out of 5]

As I have stated before, I don’t write reviews. I write only about books, or add books to my list that are important to me, that have influenced my writing in some form or another, and as such they are tributes. Sometimes that influence is more directly apparent, in style or subject matter. Others are indirect and more about the exploration and learning about the craft itself.

Italo Calvino’s Mr. Palomar (English translation) falls into the latter category. It is a work of fiction, but reads more like a philosophical interpretation of the world. There is no plot per se, rather organized accounts of various observations by the main character, Mr. Palomar.

The words are absolutely beautiful, or at least the translation is. I can’t read Italian so I must trust the interpretation is an accurate representation of the original text. Even as a writer, I am still fascinated that we all can put words on a page, and often much of the same words. Yet there are those few writers that, as if using some secret alchemy, are able to take those same words and somehow transform them into something other and of true art. That’s Calvino.

What I take from Calvino as a student of the craft, besides his obviously superior and alchemic abilities, is how he can find complexity and wonder in the mundane. It is a reminder to me to not only focus on writing the bigger things to help convey a message and drive a story, sometimes it is the little everyday things that get a story closer to a depiction of humanity.

[Shaye Easton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sublime. Definitely tied with If On A Winter's Night a Traveler for my favourite Calvino.