I very much enjoyed The Leopard by Giuseppe di Lampedusa. It is an intimate book written against the large-scale backdrop of a changing Italy. It’s about family, tradition, class, power, change, war, politics, love. It is by turns heartwarming and heartbreaking, sad and funny.
Published posthumously in 1958, The Leopard is often considered to be one of the most important novels in Italian literature. Sadly, Lampedusa had tried to get the novel published twice and was rejected both times. Maybe it is just as well he was dead when it was finally published because it seemed to make everybody angry. The conservatives criticized if for portraying the decadence of the aristocracy and clergy; the left didn’t like it because the novel criticizes Italian unification; and the Communist Party in Italy didn’t like it because of its non-Marxist portrayal of the working class. Nonetheless, the novel received great acclaim with the support of none other than E.M. Forster. And in 1959, the book won the Strega Prize, Italy’s highest award for fiction.
The story takes place in Sicily and is told by Don Fabrizio, Prince of Salina. It is May, 1860, and the army of Giuseppe Garibaldi has just landed in Sicily, ready to unite it with Italy. Don Fabrizio is a bit miffed because his beloved nephew, Prince Tancredi Falconieri, young, handsome and debonair, has joined up with the unificationists. But as unhappy about it as Don Fabrizio may be, he sees which way the wind is blowing. He doesn’t want unification or a republic but he also knows that if he involves himself in the fight against it he will lose even more than his status and by extension so will his family.
In August the family retires to their estate in Donnafugata. The fighting done for now, Tancredi joins them. The arrival of the family sets off a serious of traditional welcome events staged by the town. The citizens and officials greet the family upon arrival, they attend Mass, and then the Princess invites the town officials to the traditional first night dinner. The new mayor, Don Calogero, requests permission to bring his daughter Angelica instead of his wife.
Angelica turns out to be very beautiful and charming. She has been sent away to school to polish the rough edges of the middle class. Her father, Don Fabrizio learns, will very soon become wealthier than he is. And there is more than one instance in the book in which the newly rich Don Calogero reveals his ignorance of upper class conduct and dress, making Don Fabrizio wince as well as a little depressed.
Don Fabrizio’s daughter, Concetta, was certain she would marry Tancredi. She loved him and he did show her favor so it was not an unfounded expectation. However, Tancredi had no money of his own and Concetta, who would have a large dowry, didn’t have quite enough. Angelica, however, would inherit all her father’s wealth. Doesn’t take a genius to know where that storyline is going.
But enough plot.
Don Fabrizio is a wonderful character. He values tradition, it orders his world and his life, it keeps things calm and steady and ordered. When change is inevitable he doesn’t exactly embrace it but he doesn’t fight it either. He just lets it happen. When his priest, Father Pirrone, expresses worry, Don Fabrizio tells him
We’re not blind, my dear Father, we’re just human. We live in a changing reality to which we try to adapt ourselves like seaweed bending under pressure of water. Holy Church has been granted an explicit promise of immortality; we, as a social class, have not. Any palliative which may give us another hundred years of life is like eternity to us. We may worry about our children and perhaps our grandchildren; but beyond what we can hope to stroke with these hands of ours we have no obligations.
At one point, Don Fabrizio, who is often described as moving like a cat or having paws, foresees that the Leopards and Lions will be giving way to the jackals and hyenas.
Don Fabrizio is a dying breed and he knows it. When he actually does die we move forward many years to Concetta and her sisters living in one of the family houses in Palermo in faded splendor. After being jilted by Tancredi, Concetta never married but became and old, bitter spinster holding onto the past. As Tancredi and Angelica move into the future and see their star rise, Concetta sinks into obscurity. Though in the end Concetta does realize that a good deal of her unhappiness is her own fault.
I felt sad for Concetta and sorry for the downfall of the Salina family. They were easy to feel sad about though because they were good people. Nonetheless, nobility represent an inherently unfair system and the bad and the good go down together. Is what followed any better? It did open things up a bit, at least for awhile.
The Leopard is a quiet book filled with detail that I could go on and on about. I will get to go on a little bit more as this was a Slaves group read. Check out the blog to see what others thought and feel free to join in or follow additional conversation in our forum discussion.
My library doesn’t have this book, which is surprising since it is something of a classic. Should I order it from Amazon or B&N? I don’t know. Maybe a little later in the year; your post makes a purchase tempting.
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Grad, that is surprising your library doesn’t have it. Whether you order a copy for yourself is up to you. You could always see if your library will get it for you through interlibrary loan.
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Reading such great reviews of this one now I’m mad at myself for having gotten rid of my copy of this book years ago. Glad to hear you enjoyed this read!
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Iliana, don’t you hate when that happens? I’ve gotten rid of books before I thought I’d never read and then later regretted it. sigh.
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Do you recall this passage from a New Yorker profile of Palermo? I made note of it a long time ago:
[Lampedusa] walked every morning to the same café, where he sat is silence; then he browsed at his favorite booksellers, moved on to a second café, had lunch, came home at three and read until bedtime…The external monotony of this routine covered and perhaps made possible an ardent inner life…. For forty years, Lampedusa once wrote, he had spent close to ten hours a day alone. Literature was his chief joy, his passion, and his solace.
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Richard, since I am not a regular New Yorker reader, I don’t recall that passage 🙂 However, I am glad you do, it is a good one! I don’t think I would want to be alone so very much but spending my days going to bookshops and cafes would be lovely!
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I’m going to check with the library, but I think I’d enjoy this one and may order it.
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Jenclair, it’s a really wonderful historical novel. I hope your library has it!
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Hrumph, now I wish I had made myself pick it up and start reading as I am sure I would have liked it (and will still read it at some point). I just wasn’t in quite the right frame of mind and thought it might require more attention than I seem able to give really serious books at the moment. A cursory peek at the Slaves blog and it seems as though it was liked by all–so glad it was a really good read!
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There is a biography of Lampudesa by David Gilmour published in 1981 and the author’s life was of a quiet innerness that is reflected in his famous novel. It has to be one of the best political novels of the 20th century. I agree with you that too much nostalgia for the downfall of the Salinas is probably not sensible. I’m glad you enjoyed the book.
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Ian, yes, from what I have read about him in various places it seems he had a quiet life. Nothing wrong with that! Books and contemplation are fine by me 🙂 It doesn’t read like a political novel but it is loaded with politics. I found the power relations fascinating and how Don Fabrizio would notice how his change in behavior toward lower classes often made them very uncomfortable.
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Danielle, sorry you weren’t able to get to it! I bet you would have liked it too. Still, no reason why you can’t read it anyway!
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I loved hearing about the reception of the novel – I knew nothing about that and it was fascinating. I was really happy that we picked this book – I doubt I’d have got around to reading it without a push, but the style was wonderful.
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Litlove, I am glad we read this too otherwise I’m not sure I would have gotten to it either even though I have wanted to for years!
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