The Turin born Guido Gozzano was the first and finest representative of the Crepuscolari, the poets of the twilight. Before his tragically early death from consumption at the age of thirty-five he produced two short volumes of verse, La via del rifugio and I colloqui, which quickly became renown for their quietly perfect evocations of nature, melancholy, tenderness and ¬nostalgia. But unknown to most, Gozzano also wrote short stories, contes cruels influenced by Poe and Maupassant, and aesthetic prose nightmares, which display the same delicate crepuscular style and sense of tragic absurdism.
Within the pages of Alcina and Other Stories, the reader will find The Real Face, the bizarre fate of a promising young artist whose works grow too close to nature; A Romantic Story, a Gothic tragedy; and The Soul of the Instrument, a Symbolist fairy tale after the manner of Lorrain or Wilde; along with other dark and fantastic pieces.
An exquisite item for those interested in Italian poets of the early twentieth century and the various literary movements which bloomed in that country in the years following the Fin de siècle.
Guido Gustavo Gozzano was an Italian poet and writer.
He was born in Turin, the son of Fausto Gozzano, an engineer, and of Diodata Mautino, the daughter of Senator Mautino, patriot and supporter of Giuseppe Mazzini and Massimo D'Azeglio. He spent his life in Turin and in Agliè (in the Canavese area), where his family owned several buildings and a large estate: Villa Il Meleto.
Of delicate health (but nevertheless practicing sports such as ice-skating, cycling, and swimming), he completed primary school with mediocre results, and attended Liceo classico Cavour; in 1903, after secondary school, he studied law at the University of Turin but never graduated, preferring to attend the crepuscolari torinesi, i.e. literature lessons by poet Arturo Graf, who was well liked by the young men of letters.
Graf exercised great influence over Gozzano. His Leopardi-inspired pessimism was mitigated by a spiritualistic form of socialism, a combination which young Turinese intellectuals (who saw in his thought an "antidote" to the style of Gabriele D'Annunzio) particularly favoured. Graf helped Gozzano depart from D'Annunzio's canon, which imbued his early work, by "going back to the sources" and devoting himself to a thorough study of the poetry of Dante Alighieri and Francesco Petrarca, which helped refine his poetic sensibility.
From the satanic origins of the violin to the secret of an aged Byronesque nobleman to the titular tale of an unlikely femme Fatale, this collection evokes times long gone, a tension between ideal and cynicism, the beauty of faded finery and the lure of despair. Although I can't judge its merits as a translation, the Connells' rendition of Gozzano's prose is supple, exquisite and lucid. A wonderful volume for enthusiasts of decadence and romanticism.
Closer to late Romanticism than the Decadent or Modernist sensibilities presumable from Gozzano's period, not that there's anything wrong with that. A wide variety of stories echoing the dark themes of the period with the verbose floridity of writers that flourished a century before their writing. Compares well with Gauthier or Nerval.
An author I was unaware of before a Snuggly Press bundle arrived. (Their bundles, by the way, are excellent for exploring new authors at a reasonable price.) This is a heady sampler, stories ranging from cynical, mysterious, poignant, and unexpected horror.
“A Spiteful Day” follows a gloomster, driven to piss on the rainbows of his cheerful friends.
The beloved peasant lass, longing for the handsome prince, deals with the devil in “The Soul Of The Instrument.”
Offerings made in several Hindu temples bring consequences in “After A Tragic Vow.”
Several more diverting, if bitterish, tales in this book, translated by Anna & Brendan Connell.