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A confession without filters On the period of creation of the
heron, perhaps the strangest novel of the novelist
ferrarés, Paola Bassani remembers: "My father had a great depression in that period. He
had myself separated of my mother, although he came every day to
house. He had a study destined mainly to mark that new
independence. It felt that its work had reached a level that was
to him difficult to surpass. It was described like magnolia that
he himself had planted in the garden in front of house. It was a
tree that seemed to have arrived at its apogee and to that only it had
left to agonize. In the book, Limentani survives as if outside a
lost thing between the things and, then, reacts against that
alienation. It wants to die because the death is beautiful, even
though also seems to him another form of alienation. Separated
of the reality by its condition of rentista, that guarantees a
suffocating security at the same time to him and a slow decay, account
occurs of which their social class and it, like individual, no longer
have importance. The life happens far from the old gentlemen
like him, rest of other times. It decides, therefore, to kill
itself to return to the reality, to hit against her. Once
seizure that decision, recovers the joy, the lightness, returns to
love its family and, arrived at that point, it notices that it has
fallen again in a mirage, that has tended a trap, and it is killed;
that way, it happens for the first time to the act.
Afternoon that papa finished that novel, I was next to him.
She was an adolescent. I saw pale, desperate. I
asked to him what happened to him and it said me that that book to
which had put to him full stop was not worth anything. It was to
him almost revolting. It gave me to read the text. I read
it with anguish and with incomodidad, because there were intimate
scenes and, really, it was my father and I a girl to whom it needed
much experience. I did not know what to say to him. His
friend Niccol˜ Gallo read it soon and he said that papa had written
something very strange, something to me apparently very distant of its
spirit. For the cover, my father chose an image of a picture of
Francis Bacon in which he sees himself a destroyed man, covered with
blood. The heron was a species of
confession, but without filters, in which it had gone until the bottom
of itself. Perhaps it had the force to do it because then it was
giving lessons on the tragedies of Aeschylus and Sófocles in the
Academy of Dramatic Art. He is not accidental that the heron respects the three aristotelian
units of the tragedy: the action and time, place unit. "There is an aspect of the book that ties it with gatopardo. Limentani, like the
prince of Salt mines, is a man who has been marginalized by the
historical facts. Towards year ends 60, the artistic and
literary vanguard of the time and the historical facts marked a fort
contrasts with the spiritual universe of my father. Peculiarly,
he, who had discovered gatopardo and he had published it in 1958, said that Tomasi I gave
Lampedusa had been able to write that admirable novel because he had
been preceded by the postwar period Literature and, more indeed, by Histories of Ferrara. Several famous critical and writers as Elio Vittorini had
rejected the novel of Lampedusa, when still she was unpublished,
because they considered a narration traditional, a mere overturned
historical novel on the past, my father always maintained that gatopardo spoke of modern Italy, at
heart, of the State and the individuals of any time."
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