2nd read.
In this age of hyper-specialization, I think novels should serve as a kind of lookout tower for observing life as a whole. A good novel doesn’t have to cover everything, but at least dare to dream that dream - that big, boundless dream. This novel is exactly that kind of novel for me.
The story kicks off with a simple moment: 12-year-old Cosimo climbs up a tree in protest after refusing to eat a snail dish his sister made. Everyone thinks it’s just a kid throwing a tantrum, but Cosimo is dead serious - he decides he’s never coming down. And he really sticks to it. For the rest of his life, until the day he dies, he never sets foot on the ground again.
Living in the trees - what a wild idea. Only a writer could make that feel real. Through Cosimo, we get to explore a whole other world, a different way of being. There’s even a group of Spanish exiles in the novel who also live in the trees, but for very different reasons. They weren’t allowed to set foot on the land due to a treaty, so they took to the trees as a loophole. When the ban was lifted, they came down and invited Cosimo to join them. He refused. “I got up here before you, gentlemen,” he said, “and I’ll be the last to leave.” Cosimo wasn’t up there because he had to be - he stayed because he wanted to. When the exiles asked if he was retreating, he said, “No. I’m resisting.”
Cosimo didn’t want to be trapped by family expectations or noble titles. He wanted freedom. He wanted to be whole. So he chose resistance. Reality is rarely ideal, but the idea of perfection is always tempting. We live caught between the 2. So many people start out as idealists, dreaming of a better future, but reality is harsh and ordinary. Being different often leads to loneliness and misunderstanding. Is that kind of solitude worth it? Most of us eventually give in - we climb down from our trees and settle. But Cosimo stayed. And that choice gave him freedom.
But freedom isn’t just about escape. What do you actually do with it? Cosimo didn’t become a hermit or a cynic. Quite the opposite in fact - he threw himself into life. He read, studied, wrote. He helped build a fire prevention system, fought off pirates, dealt with wolves. He exchanged letters with Rousseau and Voltaire, organized a local revolution, and even became a city council member. He acted like a true nobleman - not because of his title, but because he believed in being fully human. Ironically, by staying in the trees, he became more connected to people. If he’d stayed on the ground, he’d have been stuck in his family’s villa, obsessed with lineage and inheritance like his father.
The novel is about isolation, distance, and the messiness of human relationships. It asks: to truly be with others, do we first need to step away from them? As Cosimo’s brother Biagio puts it, “To see the world clearly, you have to keep a certain distance.”
What comforts me is that Cosimo eventually finds peace with his family - or at least, they try to understand him. His father warns him early on: “Rebellion isn’t something you can measure. You think you’ve taken just a few steps, but sometimes there’s no turning back.” But when he sees Cosimo’s commitment and how much he’s helping the village, he gives him the family sword. The part with Cosimo’s mother is, to me, the most touching in the whole book. When she’s sick with asthma, Cosimo climbs a tall mulberry tree outside her window to care for her. She loves bossing him around, but only asks for things he can do from the tree. like handing her oranges or a shawl with a fishing spear. In the mornings, when her asthma is worst, he distracts her with flute tunes, bird calls, butterflies, and flowers. One day, he blows soap bubbles - something she never let them play with as kids - and it makes her laugh. A bubble lands on her lips and stays there. That’s when she quietly passes away.
Of course, Cosimo also meets Viola - the great love of his life. They’re drawn to each other because they’re both fiercely independent, but that’s also what tears them apart. For Viola, love has to be proven through pain and drama. For Cosimo, love and happiness are things that should obey reason. They’re both stubborn, and their differences eventually destroy the relationship. Viola says, “Then be your lonely self… goodbye… you’ll never see me again.” She marries someone in India. Cosimo returns to solitude. The heartbreak ages him quickly, but still, he refuses to come down.
There’s no doubt Cosimo’s life is actually quite a lonely one. He distances himself from family, from society - even Viola leaves him. But he shows us that solitude isn’t unbearable. Emotional and spiritual strength are deeply personal. A strong, whole soul doesn’t need others to complete it. He says, “For many years, I lived for ideals I couldn’t even explain to myself. But I did one good thing - I lived in the trees.” When Napoleon visits and asks him to block the sun, it’s like a scene straight out of Diogenes and Alexander. The emperor says, “If I weren’t Napoleon, I’d want to be Cosimo of Rondo.”
Calvino clearly loves Cosimo. At the end, when Cosimo is dying, everyone wants him to come down and receive last rites. He refuses. Instead, he grabs a rope hanging from a hot air balloon and floats away, disappearing over the sea. Even in death, he doesn’t return to the ground. His tombstone reads: “Cosimo Piovasco di Rondo - Lived in the trees - Loved the earth - Ascended to the sky.” This is deeply moving.
This is a novel worth rereading. If I had to say what impacted me most, it’s that it showed me how to live: like Cosimo, in a way that’s true to yourself. To choose your own path, to strive to be free and whole - even if it means being alone, even if it never ends. That kind of life is still worth living.
5 / 5 stars