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Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

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Re: Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

#4
One of my favorite passages of prose is from Calvino's "Invisible Cities"; I can't pass up the opportunity to share it on HN:

"When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women always encounters a third, where cockfights degenerate into bloody brawls among the bettors. He was thinking of all these things when he desired a city. Isidora, therefore, is the city of his dreams: with one difference. The dreamed-of city contained him as a young man; he arrives at Isidora in his old age. In the square there is the wall where the old men sit and watch the young go by; he is seated in a row with them. Desires are already memories."

Re: Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

#5

One of my favorite passages of prose is from Calvino's "Invisible Cities"; I can't pass up the opportunity to share it on HN: "When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women alw…

Invisible cities is the only "fictional" book I've read absolutely worth using a highlighter on. It's great to read a few pages here and there

Re: Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

#7
post #5

One of my favorite passages of prose is from Calvino's "Invisible Cities"; I can't pass up the opportunity to share it on HN: "When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women alw…

Invisible cities is the only "fictional" book I've read absolutely worth using a highlighter on. It's great to read a few pages here and there

“Le città invisibili” is a multi layered book. I’ve read it hundreds of times - just contemplate the beauty of the prose, humble, innocent, yet wise and deep. In Italian is even more astonishing.

Re: Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

#8
post #6

A friend lent me a copy of Calvino's "If on a winter's night a traveler" which I would strongly recommend if you're looking for something a bit different. It's written in the second person (the protagonist is you, the reader) and is alarmingly postmodern.

I think it's even enjoyable by people who would be put off by the phrase 'alarmingly postmodern'.

It's playful and weird and meta, sure, but it's not difficult (or purely an excuse for Calvino to show off), and there is sincerity not far below the surface.

Re: Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

#9

One of my favorite passages of prose is from Calvino's "Invisible Cities"; I can't pass up the opportunity to share it on HN: "When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women alw…

Invisible cities was too visual for me (I have a weak visual imagination, so I can't appreciate books that rely too heavily on images), but I really liked If On A Winter's Night a Traveler, and this quote reminds me that I want to read more Calvino.

Would you (or anyone else here) recommend another book of his, given those preferences/weaknesses of mine?

Re: Italo Calvino, The Art of Fiction No. 130 (1992)

#10
post #8
post #6

A friend lent me a copy of Calvino's "If on a winter's night a traveler" which I would strongly recommend if you're looking for something a bit different. It's written in the second person (the protagonist is you, the reader) and is alarmingly postmodern.

I think it's even enjoyable by people who would be put off by the phrase 'alarmingly postmodern'. It's playful and weird and meta, sure, but it's not difficult (or purely an excuse for Calvino to show off), and there is sincerity not far below the surface.

Perhaps I chose my words poorly; I very much enjoyed reading it, and would strongly recommend it to anyone.
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