Yet another riddle for daring readers to get lost in.
One can't take anything for granted with R. Calasso. His highly academic background combined with amazing literary skills make it impossible to confine his books to the narrow domains of either high-brow philosophy or esoteric intellectual hodgepodge, thus putting the reader in a compromising position - between humiliation and hunger for more.
Even more so with this one, unfortunately still unavailable in translation: "Il Cacciatore Celeste" (Sky Hunter sounds good, although the antiquated adjective 'celeste' - also meaning 'light blue' - is particularly related to heavenly bodies and phenomena, as in the English 'celestial'). The book is indeed based on a deceivingly simple premise that soon morphs into a limitless array of possibilities for the mind to explore, a delta spreading its branches through the unarmed reader's synapses. Once the hypnotic river of Calasso's words starts flowing, all you can do is keep your head above the water and see where it takes you.
Why the Hunter, and why the Sky?
Because, according to Calasso, our ancestors' mind got inextricably bound to these images long before civilisation was even born.
What was the main characteristic of the prehistoric mind?
Fear.
Fear of basically anything, from fire to predators to darkness, from lightning to illness to famine to one's own reflection in the water.
Man's fear of the world was the paralysing fear of the Unknown and Unknowable: it was the perfect awareness of mankind's total vulnerability, wherever and whenever those quasi-human beings found themselves facing their physical and mental limits.
Those hybrid but dangerously ambitious creatures knew they were sonehow different from the animals crawling, roaring, hissing, braying all around their magnificent huts made of mud and shit; they knew they were bound to a still undefined future of greatness, but they didn't have the slightest idea of what, when, where and most of all why. All they knew was the 'who': themselves, whatever they were and for whatever reason.
Calasso shows how the journey to - and through - knowledge can be compared to hunt: more precisely, hunt seen as the first step down the path of the irreversible differentiation between men and beasts.
From the moment they started to eat other animals, our ancestors realised they were to inherit the earth and all its creatures. Long before the Book of Genesis was written, a bunch of Sapiens got tired of squatting in the deepest corner of a cave hoping to escape the lion's fangs: not after they'd found out how good the lion's flesh tastes (does it? Poetic license). And the age of fear was over.
As a consequence, such a momentous discovery created the exquisitely human need to really own both the earth and its inhabitants, edible or not. Because killing, eating, defecating were not mere acts of survival, not after a million years of nomadic and mostly vegetarian habits, in which meat was hardly a priority. Thus feeding on what had to be previously slaughtered implied a deep change in the human mind, a shift from one plane to another, an entirely new self-consciousnes.
Slowly but inexorably, it all began. Astronomy, agriculture, the first rudiments of ethology and biology were born, or at least the necessity of them as the means to control a whole world nobody actually knew anything about.
Such was the first - and truest - Enlightment, that paradoxically ended with the creation of myths and cults based precisely on those archetypal figures of animals and hunters: no wonder the first things ever painted and carved were animals and men wearing furs, skins and feathers. A human hunter is a wild beast gone through a metamorphosis, reassessing both his natures; a go-between crossing the border between the visible and the invisible, or rather between the human and the divine.
All over the world (the ridiculously small part of the world humans were confined to back then, that is) deities and ceremonies were conceived as part of those existential rituals, with surprisingly similar characteristics. From creatures to entities, Man was now the master sacrificing his goods to the enslaved inferior in exchange for their subjugation: thus ancient religion was established, as well as the basis of all religions yet to come, from the Great Ziggurat to Saint Peter's.
It's no coincidence that the constellation named from Orion the Hunter has always and universally been identified with an archetypal, often nameless and featureless hunter, depicted as such from Greece to India to pre-Columbian Americas. Half human, half deity: the first and purest image of Jacob's Ladder.
This is Calasso's point, though I apologise for making it sound so simplistic.
All throughout the book the author refers to Greek and Egyptian mythology, philosophy, literature in order to point out amazing similarities and unexpected parallels. From Homer to Plotinus, it's a labyrinthine universe with neither a way in nor a way out. I daresay one could even read these short paragraphs (the peculiar structure of Calasso's works) at random, and still the book would make sense.
I must confess I'm frighteningly ignorant with regards to Greek classicism, as I can barely discern between "Xena" and Xenophon. But I enjoyed the author's erudition nonetheless, it sucks you in before you even know.
Calasso's great ability is the way he provides his readers with a huge, heavy load of culture without burying them under their own inadequacy, or - even worse - the swollen ego of an undeniably gifted writer. I'd recommend his work to anybody, except the Italian public who's hopeless and unworthy.