Prefaced by a dedication to "the honorable American soldiers who were my comrades-in-arms... and who died in vain in the cause of European freedom," Curzio Malaparte imparts a warning before The Skin opens. It's a warning that should be heeded.Naples has been liberated, or is it conquered? Amidst a city in the grips of "the plague", an abominable infestation of moral degeneration, which arrived alongside "the loveliest, the kindest, the most respectable army in the world... born like Venus, of the sea foam..." containing, "...not a soldier who had a boil, a decayed tooth, even a pimple on his face," Curzio Malaparte acts as liaison, interpreter and guide to Colonel Jack Hamilton, a “sophisticated”, classically educated American, as they explore the devastated city of bombed out Naples.In the banlieu de Paris, a.k.a. Europe, the people are hungry, and nowhere more so than in Naples. A black market has sprung up with everything for sale, and in which blond pubic wigs are sold to cater for the tastes of Negro soldiers. Women and children are for sale and there is but one virgin left in Naples—a young girl whose family offers her for display to American servicemen. Nothing is as it seems, and everything is twisted, "... an appalling and at the same time a delicate, exquisite, unreal scene."That Europe, is at a crossroads, Malaparte feels acutely."I was Europe. I was the history of Europe, the civilization of Europe, the poetry, the art, all the glories and all the mysteries of Europe. And simultaneously I felt that I had been oppressed, destroyed, shot, invaded and liberated. I felt a coward and a hero, a 'bastard' and 'charming', a friend and an enemy, victorious and vanquished. And I also felt that I was a really good fellow."But it is a crossroads with perversions at every turn. "'Blackshirts!' I cried. 'Our American allies have at last landed in Italy to help us fight our German allies. The sacred torch of Fascism is not spent! It is to our American allies that I have entrusted the sacred torch of Fascism!"Both actor and backdrop, the war informs the many conversations and musings that ensue. In a sad, even anguished, and utterly ironic tone, we are led from one ridiculous and grotesquely comic vignette to another. When asked about the difference between American's and Europeans, he states with a ridiculous air of superciliousness, "The difference," ... "is this—that the Americans buy their enemies, and we sell ours," only to receive, as though drunk, the equally ridiculous reply: "I have a suspicion," said Major Morris, "that the peoples of Europe have already begun to sell us so as to get even with us for having bought them." It took me a moment of further reading to realise that buried in these seemingly nonsensical statements there is a perverse logic. Everything is for sale, even hunger.That the hyper-fertile hinterland of Naples would in the post war era provide almost a third of all agricultural produce in Italy, and that the Italians would provide the world with so many wonderful dishes, only makes it appropriate that some of the more amusing and richly imagined parts would revolve around food. Eerie parallels with real events sees a girl shaped fish, named "The Siren", taken from the local aquarium to be served to American officers, only to invoke the disgust of a rather prudish guest, whilst the Italian waiters serve up Spam with hilarious contempt. "People that have an ancient and noble tradition of servitude and hunger respect only those masters who have refined tastes and lordly manners. There is nothing more humiliating to an enslaved people than a master with uncouth manners and coarse tastes."With apparent ease, Malaparte offers contradiction after contradiction. Virtually impossible to decipher, there are no easy answers or views to be taken. He lambasts cowardice and heroes alike. He often appears scathing. The young of Europe are on their way to being pederasts: "They always choose the easiest form of revolt—degradation, moral indifference, narcissism." Italy is simultaneously both saved and shamed: "Italian policy is based on the cardinal principle that there is always someone else who loses wars on Italy's behalf." Of "the wise and the prudent" ... "the false 'resisters,' the blasé defenders of freedom, the heroes of tomorrow, lay hidden, pale and trembling, in the cellars." Even the dead receive his withering eye: "They had invaded Italy, France, all of Europe ... We had to defend life—our true country, life—even against them—the dead." No-one is spared. And yet, there is such humanity, evident when he pleads with some frightened and inexperienced Americans to not move a wounded man, for he is dying, or when he goes searching for his dog, Bebo, only to find him in the university hospital, enduring suffering in silence-one of the most touching and grotesque moments in a novel where such events are not in short supply.There are other novels that touch on war with caustic humour. Josef Skvorecky's Engineer of Human Souls is one such book; Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughter House 5 is another; Joseph Hellers, Catch 22 is yet another satirical gem, but none of them are so confusing, so utterly unclassifiable, so perverse, and yet so honest and cutting. Meandering between cynicism and innocence, laughter and sadness, Malaparte appears to be in mourning. I felt like I was at a wake, laughing along at the jokes, marveling at the humour and the wisdom, but still aware that there is a grieving widow in the room. That scenes of life and death can prove so touching and yet so comic, marks the genius in this work. That it elicits humour does not diminish its horror, nor its serious intent, but amplifies it. That it should prove prophetic, confounds the senses, for it is a surreal piece that should be read, and read widely, for it drives home thoughts that we rarely consider, such as, “It is a shameful thing to win a war.”I recommend this book but with one reservation: Read it with an open mind. It is not gentle.
Curzio Malaparte (1898-1957)To win a war - everyone can do that, but not everyone is capable of losing one. - Curzio MalaparteCurzio Malaparte, born Kurt Suckert to a German father and Italian mother, was a journalist and novelist who was a member of the Italian fascist party and took part in Mussolini's march on Rome in 1922. I don't know why he was initially a fascist, but he was too much of a free thinker to be one for long. He was kicked out of the party for his free thinking (and for lambasting both Hitler and Mussolini in various publications) and exiled on an island for five years; subsequently he was arrested and imprisoned multiple times. In between incarcerations he was an editor of a literary journal and of La Stampa for a time. During the Second World War he was a war correspondent for the Corriere della Sera. His most important novels, Kaputt (1944) and La pelle (1949), were both set in the war, the former on the Eastern Front and the latter during the invasion and occupation of Italy by the Allies. I first read La pelle (The Skin, available in English translation) decades ago and was deeply affected by its merciless depiction of the misery and degradation of both the Italians and the occupying forces. After finishing John Horne Burns' outstanding satirical promenade through occupied North Africa and Naples, The Gallery, in which the same misery and degradation are among the primary focuses, I thought it was a good time to revisit La pelle, to see these portrayals of the same circumstances, one from an Italian and one from an American,(*) side by side.(**)Though Burns added touches of bitter humor to his portrait, for Malaparte it is a dominant color right from the outset, where the first person narrator - a captain in the newly formed Italian Liberation Corps, garbed in the recycled uniforms of British soldiers killed in North Africa and Sicily - is introduced to his company of former POWs, whose pale, inexpressive faces and uniforms on which one could still make out the blood stains and sewn up bullet holes convince him that he is commanding dead men.Burns was an upper middle class American idealist, so his primary reactions to what he saw in North Africa and Italy were outrage, disgust and disillusionment. Malaparte was twenty years older (he had served with distinction in WW I) and more experienced, not to mention Italian and thus not quite so laden down with illusions. Illusions like: the victors are not merely the winners but are chosen of God and are Right, whilst those others are not merely defeated but are cast down into the fires and must clamber back out by the grace of our helping hands, with the proviso that they accept our True Beliefs and open their markets to our entrepreneurs, of course.Both authors skewer America. Burns' tone is satirical or directly accusatory, while Malaparte's is bitterly ironic, though Malaparte seems to manifest more sympathy for the Americans than Burns does. And while Burns' portrayal of the misery, degradation and widespread corruption was graphic enough, Malaparte is just merciless. In fact, I hope he was exaggerating for effect.(***) The delicate of spirit should steer well clear of this book. But for the strong of stomach La pelle is a powerfully written panorama of mankind in extraordinary circumstances, both the good and the horrible, savorously spiced with all the idiosyncrasies of that ancient city by the beautiful Golfo di Napoli, whose people - as Malaperte emphasizes - have become through centuries of domination by others masters of survival and gaming the system, every system.Yet other elements are brought together in this agonizing masterpiece. The narrator, who is called Captain Curzio Malaparte, is constantly torn between admiration/respect and distaste/hate for the victors and, for the Italians, sympathy/love and shame/hate. He can oscillate from one extreme to the other within a five minute conversation. The man's tension is incredible. The author Malaparte also looks closely at the many and varied relationships between victors and the defeated in a manner significantly more nuanced and multifold than Hegel's famous analysis of Herrschaft und Knechtschaft. And along with all this, Malaparte effortlessly incorporates allusions to wide swaths of English, American and Greco-Roman literature. I must mention a final element which caused me much thought in light of current events: the Italians were both defeated and liberated, but even the anti-fascists were made to taste the defeat on occasion. Another pair of oscillating poles, that of gratitude/joy and resentment/shame towards the liberators/conquerors, contributes to the shimmering, shifting, contradictory nature of this remarkable and unclassifiable text.(*) In point of fact, Burns excoriated Americans and American culture in The Gallery and returned to Italy permanently after the war to write and drink himself to a very early death.(**) Norman Lewis' Naples '44 is occupied with the same set of circumstances, but it appears he saw quite a bit less of the misery and degradation than Burns and Malaparte did (or at least chose not to write of most of it in such a graphic manner).(***) Exaggeration is certainly part of his ironic stance, but some of the most horrible passages are provided with detail that does not grace the passages which are clearly exaggerations. Rating http://leopard.booklikes.com/post/116...
Do You like book The Skin (1988)?
'The Skin' must have been considered a very scandalous book in 1947 when it was published. Its tragicomic account of the invasion of Naples in 1943 must have shocked the people who were only just recovering from the horrors of war. I would imagine that they were scandalized by a lot of the distressing and often bewildering observations about their recent past. Malaparte's story is still shocking to read today, so I cannot even imagine what an impact it must have had just after the end of the war. It is only in recent years that you see books published that allow for some occasional comic remark in a WW-II setting. The story of what happens at the invasion of Naples and the following years is extremely tragic and farcical as well. I feel that Malaparte's account shows us the true reality of the madness of war. There is an intriguing question throughout the book whether Naples was invaded or liberated by the American army. Malaparte even implies that he and the people of Naples feel sorry for the American conquerors and that they themselves have the preferable position of being conquered. As he puts it in the last sentence of the book: "It is a shameful thing to win a war."His observations on the behaviour of his compatriots, as well as the American army and himself feel very realistic to me. Yet, there are some shocking stories that feel like scenes from a Jheronimus Bosch painting, as they are so dark and archaic that you have trouble taking in the real picture of what he is relating. This must be the real face of living through a war.Curzio writes pure poetry for pages at a time. However cruel and even sadistic his observations often are, he does show alot of compassion for the people of Naples and their often grotesque behaviour. There are scenes in this book I will never forget. They are darkness visible. And then again, there are very hilarious scenes as well. Or very tender scenes, like the story of his friendship with the American army officer Jack or his recounting of the death of his beloved dog Febo. I feel that this book has a unique voice in WW-II literature.So, I loved this book. And I also love that sardonic bastard, Curzio Malaparte. I love the title too. It is so appropriate in that we have only our own skin to live in. I will read this book again. Highly recommended.
—Hanneke
موت الروح..قيامة الجسد، والليبرالية المتفسخةــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــخلّد بيكاسو بشاعة الحرب الأهلية الإسبانية فى لوحته "الجرنيكا" كدليل مستقبلى وخالد وتيمة موازية للحدث وقرائنه فى المستقبل، لكن لماذا نحس بالبشاعة يصاحبها رعبً مؤلم عندما نشاهد فيلما أو نقرأ كلمات؟، هل يرجع ذلك للثبات واللحظية التى اختزلتها الألوان والخطوط فى اللوحة خلافاً للحركية والنزف المتنامى للمشاعر المحرّضة للمكنون الوجدانى المترسب تاريخياً تحت سطح الحواس.مقدمة الكتاب-بقلم الناقد السينمائى سمير فريد- لا تغنى عنها قراءة الرواية ، أرى المقدمة كعمل تكميلى يفصح عن مخبوء ويحلل ويعرض العمل السينمائى المأخوذ عن الرواية من اخراج الرائعة"ليليان كافانى" والتى لم أشاهد لها غير فيلم واحد وهو الحارس الليلى وأتوق لمشاهدة الفيلم المأخوذ عن الرواية...البطل تمّت تسميته من قِبَل المؤلف على اسمه أيضاً "مالابارته" كشاهد عن التحوّل العظيم التى شهدته أوروبا خلال وبعد الحرب العالمية الثانيةمع التدّخل الأول لأمريكا فى سياسات القارة الأوروبية والسياسة العالمية.ما لفتنى إلى قراءة الرواية أنى سمعت أن كونديرا كتب عنها فصلا كاملا فى كتابه الجديد"لقاء"، كنت أنتظر عملاً بالغ الضخامة بالغ الملحمية ولكنى لم أجد إلا عملا قصيراً يمتلىء بالوصف مع التجلّى المشهدى لثلاث مشاهد ظهرت كجزر منعزله على السطح السردى للرواية، مشهد الفتاه العزراء التى تقبع فى سريرها ليشاهدها الرائح والغادى بدولار وإثبات أن زمن البكارة قد ولّى وانتهى، المشهد الثانى عندما يموت جندى فى الجيش الأمريكى فى ايطاليا وقبل موته-صغيراً- ينظر أقرانه للإيطالى بطل الرواية بازدراء رغم معاملته الإنسانية للموت قبل أن يأتى ويرغمونه على إضحاك الميت- وهو إقتراحه فى الأساس- حتى يموت موتاً سعيدا قرير البال فيعمل على حكى النكات وتقليد أسلوب موسيلينى فى الحركة والكلام، المشهد الثالث عندما تموت فتاه إثر غارة جوية وقت قيام وليمة كبرى ليقفز المشهد تُقدّم كسمكة"عروس البحر" وتتم المعجزة.الرواية نقد قاسٍ للفاشية والنازية وكل الأنظمة الشمولية فى تبنيها للأساليب القمعية والرضوخ فى النهاية- بجبن- للمستعمر والمحرّر على حد سواء.إنها بداية لعصرٍ جديد...................التسليع وتشيىء الجسد والشذوذ الفيزيقى والأخلاقى هما شعارات المرحلة المخبوءة تحت شعارات برّاقة تنادى بالحرية ونبذ قيم العبيد، نخاسة مقنّعة تنهار تحت أقدامها القيم وتتفشّى الوحدة والعزلة وانتهاكات الإنسان لروحة فى مقابل اشباع شهوة الشراء أو قتل الجوع فى عالم تفاقمت فيه أعداد الجوعى...فيفا امريكا..فيفا أمريكا...بص شوف أمريكا بتعمل ايهالرواية من ترجمة الشاعر الجميل صلاح عبد الصبور
—Islam
Thật khó nói về cuốn sách này. Nó có thể là kiệt tác, nhưng đọc nó thật mệt, quá nhiều chết chóc và xác người, thịt người..., chưa kể thái độ luôn khóc lóc gần với khổ dâm của nhân vật kể chuyện. Có nhiều cái nhìn rất định kiến, thậm chí là phân biệt chủng tộc và với người đồng tính quá rõ rệt (nhưng 1 phần có thể là do người dịch?). Cuốn sách có nhiều hình ảnh ám ảnh như trong những bộ phim siêu thực, và ranh giới giữa hiện thực với ảo giác, hiện thực và siêu thực, ghi chép và tiểu thuyết, thực tại và tưởng tượng nhiều lúc bị xoá nhoà. Tác giả cũng là một người kỳ lạ và cực đoan, với lý tưởng đi từ chủ nghĩa phát xít sang chống phát xít, cho tới đi theo Đồng minh rồi tham gia cộng sản và về cuối đời lại chịu ảnh hưởng của chủ nghĩa Mao.Bản tiếng Việt của Nguyễn Quang Trụ lấy cái tên khá ngẫu hứng "Thượng đế đã chết trong thành phố" do Vàng Son xuất bản năm 1974 và có vẻ như là một bản lược dịch, độ dài có lẽ chỉ bằng 2/3 so với nguyên tác.
—Linh
