Zeno's Conscience by Italo Svevo
translated from the Italian by William Weaver
"You see things less clearly when you open your eyes too wide."
If these words, spoken by Zeno Cosini, were heeded by him over the course of Zeno's Conscience, it would be a vastly different book. But Zeno is deluded by his own grandeur. Vain, supercilious, and disloyal, he never seems to give the reader much room for admiration. Of course, it was not Svevo's intention for us to respect Zeno. Rather, we should be bewitched by him. And we are. The book, which spans over 400 pages, seemed to scarcely be long enough. The preface tells us that this manuscript is being published as a gesture of revenge on the part of Zeno's psychiatrist, the mysterious "Doctor S". We soon forget that, though, as Zeno begins his beguiling, introspective "Preamble".
"The doctor has urged me not to insist stubbornly on trying to see all that far back," Zeno writes. "Recent things can also be valuable, and especially fantasies, and last night's dreams."
The present tense soon shifts, however, and, after a 23-page chapter entitled "Smoke," which centers around Zeno's addiction to cigarettes, Zeno begins reminiscing about many things. The first event he shares with us is his father's death. This event composes one section of this five-part novel, and it is the most sober part of what, overall, is a highly amusing book. As Zeno's father endures the agonies of a terminal illness, Zeno suffers emotionally. While his father dies, he recalls:
"On that sofa I wept my most searing tears. Weeping obscures our guilt and allows us to accuse fate, without contradiction. I wept because I was losing my father for whom I had always lived."
But had the self-absorbed Zeno really lived for his father? Or is he merely deluding himself?
In the second part of the book, "The Story of My Marriage," Zeno proves to be both pompous and naive. Although the truth is often right before him, he fails to perceive it. He is so blinded by the illusions he has about himself, that the conclusions he comes to about people and circumstances are almost ludicrous. "It's surely easier to change oneself than to reshape others," he declares ironically. Indeed, it is easier to change oneself--but first, the desire to change must be there, and it's impossible to believe that Zeno isn't entirely pleased with the person he is.
He is quick to make assumptions, too, especially if they are in accordance with that which he desires. When he meets the quartet of Malfenti sisters, he immediately assumes that Ada, the sister he is most interested in will instantly be attracted to him. Rather than setting out to win her, however, his single objective is marriage. "An unusual path for love to take," he admits, "a very broad path, a very comfortable path, but one that doesn't lead to the goal, close though it may be. Love achieved in this way lacks the principal ingredient, the subjugation of the female..."
We soon get accustomed to Zeno's philosophical theories, some of which are both annoying and amusing. Other observations are surprisingly shrewd: "There is nothing more difficult in this world than to achieve a marriage exactly the way you want to."
Zeno is a highly unpredictable character, and this is one thing about him that compels you to keep reading. When he ends up married to Augusta, the one Malfenti sister whom he had no attraction to, it's easy to believe that his home life will be doomed to failure. But in a book filled with inconsistencies, featuring a leading character who possesses so many idiosyncracies, it is never wise to make assumptions.
"I loved Augusta and she loved me," Zeno announces at the start of section three, "Wife and Mistress." This bold statement prepares the reader for a partnership that is both happy and fruitful. Although Zeno contradicts his initial statement in the very next paragraph, by admitting that his feelings for Augusta may be closer to "gratitude" than love, he is nevertheless content with his choice of bride and with his married life. He muses, almost nostalgically,
"Days go by, suitable for framing; they are rich in sounds that daze you, and besides their lines and colors, they are also filled with real light, the kind that burns and therefore isn't burning."
The two of them "shun" musuems in order to enjoy the paintings and pictures that make up "real life." But the conjugal bliss does not last long. Zeno seduces Carla, a dark-haired beauty who seems to be the opposite of his wife in every way. We are reminded of a prior observation as we walk with Zeno through his casual yet passionate affair: "It is a known fact that we men do not seek in a wife the characteristics we adore and despise in a mistress."
Zeno considers himself to be an expert on the art of love. "Women always know what they want," he affirms, and, naturally, Carla wants him. He is her first lover, and her adoration captivates Zeno. But she is also volatile and sensitive, and soon these qualities outweigh her attributes.
It's no surprise, of course, since, as Zeno explains to Augusta's sister, Alberta, while cavalierly discussing the subject of love:
"...a woman (is) an object whose value fluctuate(s) far more than any stock on the market....a woman might have a high value at a certain hour of the morning, none at all at noon, and then in the afternoon be worth twice her morning value, only to end in the evening at an actually negative value...."
Ultimately, Carla loses all value for Zeno. He does, however, still treasure his wife, Augusta. Although he assumes that she has never had the slightest suspicions in regard to his liaison, the reader wonders whether or not this is yet another one of Zeno's self-delusions. We are never shown that Augusta has any inkling of the truth, but then we are not offered any insight into her perspective. This is Zeno's story, and his vantage point is all that exists.
For example, when Zeno decides that he suffers from a myriad of ailments, we can only surmise, from all that we know about him, that these are psychomatic. The illnesses are very real to him, and he is constantly fearing death as a result of one health problem or another. He manages to persuade himself that he has everything from lung disease to diabetes, though these self-diagnosed ailments are always proven to be imaginary. Zeno's business partnership with his brother-in-law, Guido, is another source of frustration. There are various complications with finances, and Zeno is incapable of making the astute decisions that are necessary to solve these difficulties. Ada, his wife's sister and his original love interest, becomes disfigured by an illness, and Guido ends up in an torrid affair with his fetching secretary, Carmen. This part of the novel reads a bit like a soap opera. There is a great deal of drama, but, because of how it is presented, none of it seems contrived. Once the reader's interest is fully engaged, it is nearly impossible to stop reading. As all these traumatic events come to an end, Zeno bemoans the bitterness of life, while, at the same time, offering advice on how to survive it:
"...at any point of the universe where you are settled, you end up being infected. You have to keep moving. Life has poisons, but also some other poisons that serve as antidotes. Only by running can you elude the former and take advantage of the latter."
In a way, Zeno is always running. He keeps moving, never really accepting responsibility for the choices he makes. He daydreams about Ada, even after he is married to her sister, and fantasizes about the past, moving backward into memories rather than forward into reality. In the final chapter he makes a confession that suggests to the reader why his attempts at psychoanalysis have never been successful. He finally admits:
"...I wasn't looking for therapy, after all. I wanted again May roses in December. I had them once, why couldn't I have them again?"
How can we be surprised that Zeno wants May roses in December? He is a man who has religiously pursued the unattainable, a fanciful creature whose inflated opinion of himself shields his eyes from the truth. Although he says at one point, "Certainly the world would be a sweeter place if more people resembled me," the reader must surely be glad that Zeno is one of a kind.
Stylistically, Svevo transports us into a world of modernism that echoes the work of Joyce, one of his most fervent admirers. The structure of Zeno's Conscience is innovative and logical, and, even though Zeno oftentimes makes no sense, Svevo's realistic prose enables us to perceive Zeno's most ridiculous actions as being completely believable. At once witty, brilliant, and rich with detail, this novel is a work of sheer genius.
Hailed as a "seminal work of modernism," Zeno's Conscience was published in Italian in 1923 and in English in 1930. Svevo, whose birth name was Ettore Schmitz, was sixty-two years old at the time of publication. Five years later, Svevo was killed in an automobile accident. When speaking of Zeno's Conscience, in a letter sent to Svevo and dated January 30, 1924,
James Joyce says, "I am reading (Zeno's Conscience) with great pleasure. Why be discouraged? You must know it is by far your best work." At the time of his death, Svevo was contemplating, among other works, a sequel to this incomparable novel.
My rating: *****++
~Titania
"...things that no one knows, things that leave no trace,
do not exist..."
~Zeno's Conscience, Italo Svevo
translated from the Italian by William Weaver
"You see things less clearly when you open your eyes too wide."
If these words, spoken by Zeno Cosini, were heeded by him over the course of Zeno's Conscience, it would be a vastly different book. But Zeno is deluded by his own grandeur. Vain, supercilious, and disloyal, he never seems to give the reader much room for admiration. Of course, it was not Svevo's intention for us to respect Zeno. Rather, we should be bewitched by him. And we are. The book, which spans over 400 pages, seemed to scarcely be long enough. The preface tells us that this manuscript is being published as a gesture of revenge on the part of Zeno's psychiatrist, the mysterious "Doctor S". We soon forget that, though, as Zeno begins his beguiling, introspective "Preamble".
"The doctor has urged me not to insist stubbornly on trying to see all that far back," Zeno writes. "Recent things can also be valuable, and especially fantasies, and last night's dreams."
The present tense soon shifts, however, and, after a 23-page chapter entitled "Smoke," which centers around Zeno's addiction to cigarettes, Zeno begins reminiscing about many things. The first event he shares with us is his father's death. This event composes one section of this five-part novel, and it is the most sober part of what, overall, is a highly amusing book. As Zeno's father endures the agonies of a terminal illness, Zeno suffers emotionally. While his father dies, he recalls:
"On that sofa I wept my most searing tears. Weeping obscures our guilt and allows us to accuse fate, without contradiction. I wept because I was losing my father for whom I had always lived."
But had the self-absorbed Zeno really lived for his father? Or is he merely deluding himself?
In the second part of the book, "The Story of My Marriage," Zeno proves to be both pompous and naive. Although the truth is often right before him, he fails to perceive it. He is so blinded by the illusions he has about himself, that the conclusions he comes to about people and circumstances are almost ludicrous. "It's surely easier to change oneself than to reshape others," he declares ironically. Indeed, it is easier to change oneself--but first, the desire to change must be there, and it's impossible to believe that Zeno isn't entirely pleased with the person he is.
He is quick to make assumptions, too, especially if they are in accordance with that which he desires. When he meets the quartet of Malfenti sisters, he immediately assumes that Ada, the sister he is most interested in will instantly be attracted to him. Rather than setting out to win her, however, his single objective is marriage. "An unusual path for love to take," he admits, "a very broad path, a very comfortable path, but one that doesn't lead to the goal, close though it may be. Love achieved in this way lacks the principal ingredient, the subjugation of the female..."
We soon get accustomed to Zeno's philosophical theories, some of which are both annoying and amusing. Other observations are surprisingly shrewd: "There is nothing more difficult in this world than to achieve a marriage exactly the way you want to."
Zeno is a highly unpredictable character, and this is one thing about him that compels you to keep reading. When he ends up married to Augusta, the one Malfenti sister whom he had no attraction to, it's easy to believe that his home life will be doomed to failure. But in a book filled with inconsistencies, featuring a leading character who possesses so many idiosyncracies, it is never wise to make assumptions.
"I loved Augusta and she loved me," Zeno announces at the start of section three, "Wife and Mistress." This bold statement prepares the reader for a partnership that is both happy and fruitful. Although Zeno contradicts his initial statement in the very next paragraph, by admitting that his feelings for Augusta may be closer to "gratitude" than love, he is nevertheless content with his choice of bride and with his married life. He muses, almost nostalgically,
"Days go by, suitable for framing; they are rich in sounds that daze you, and besides their lines and colors, they are also filled with real light, the kind that burns and therefore isn't burning."
The two of them "shun" musuems in order to enjoy the paintings and pictures that make up "real life." But the conjugal bliss does not last long. Zeno seduces Carla, a dark-haired beauty who seems to be the opposite of his wife in every way. We are reminded of a prior observation as we walk with Zeno through his casual yet passionate affair: "It is a known fact that we men do not seek in a wife the characteristics we adore and despise in a mistress."
Zeno considers himself to be an expert on the art of love. "Women always know what they want," he affirms, and, naturally, Carla wants him. He is her first lover, and her adoration captivates Zeno. But she is also volatile and sensitive, and soon these qualities outweigh her attributes.
It's no surprise, of course, since, as Zeno explains to Augusta's sister, Alberta, while cavalierly discussing the subject of love:
"...a woman (is) an object whose value fluctuate(s) far more than any stock on the market....a woman might have a high value at a certain hour of the morning, none at all at noon, and then in the afternoon be worth twice her morning value, only to end in the evening at an actually negative value...."
Ultimately, Carla loses all value for Zeno. He does, however, still treasure his wife, Augusta. Although he assumes that she has never had the slightest suspicions in regard to his liaison, the reader wonders whether or not this is yet another one of Zeno's self-delusions. We are never shown that Augusta has any inkling of the truth, but then we are not offered any insight into her perspective. This is Zeno's story, and his vantage point is all that exists.
For example, when Zeno decides that he suffers from a myriad of ailments, we can only surmise, from all that we know about him, that these are psychomatic. The illnesses are very real to him, and he is constantly fearing death as a result of one health problem or another. He manages to persuade himself that he has everything from lung disease to diabetes, though these self-diagnosed ailments are always proven to be imaginary. Zeno's business partnership with his brother-in-law, Guido, is another source of frustration. There are various complications with finances, and Zeno is incapable of making the astute decisions that are necessary to solve these difficulties. Ada, his wife's sister and his original love interest, becomes disfigured by an illness, and Guido ends up in an torrid affair with his fetching secretary, Carmen. This part of the novel reads a bit like a soap opera. There is a great deal of drama, but, because of how it is presented, none of it seems contrived. Once the reader's interest is fully engaged, it is nearly impossible to stop reading. As all these traumatic events come to an end, Zeno bemoans the bitterness of life, while, at the same time, offering advice on how to survive it:
"...at any point of the universe where you are settled, you end up being infected. You have to keep moving. Life has poisons, but also some other poisons that serve as antidotes. Only by running can you elude the former and take advantage of the latter."
In a way, Zeno is always running. He keeps moving, never really accepting responsibility for the choices he makes. He daydreams about Ada, even after he is married to her sister, and fantasizes about the past, moving backward into memories rather than forward into reality. In the final chapter he makes a confession that suggests to the reader why his attempts at psychoanalysis have never been successful. He finally admits:
"...I wasn't looking for therapy, after all. I wanted again May roses in December. I had them once, why couldn't I have them again?"
How can we be surprised that Zeno wants May roses in December? He is a man who has religiously pursued the unattainable, a fanciful creature whose inflated opinion of himself shields his eyes from the truth. Although he says at one point, "Certainly the world would be a sweeter place if more people resembled me," the reader must surely be glad that Zeno is one of a kind.
Stylistically, Svevo transports us into a world of modernism that echoes the work of Joyce, one of his most fervent admirers. The structure of Zeno's Conscience is innovative and logical, and, even though Zeno oftentimes makes no sense, Svevo's realistic prose enables us to perceive Zeno's most ridiculous actions as being completely believable. At once witty, brilliant, and rich with detail, this novel is a work of sheer genius.
Hailed as a "seminal work of modernism," Zeno's Conscience was published in Italian in 1923 and in English in 1930. Svevo, whose birth name was Ettore Schmitz, was sixty-two years old at the time of publication. Five years later, Svevo was killed in an automobile accident. When speaking of Zeno's Conscience, in a letter sent to Svevo and dated January 30, 1924,
James Joyce says, "I am reading (Zeno's Conscience) with great pleasure. Why be discouraged? You must know it is by far your best work." At the time of his death, Svevo was contemplating, among other works, a sequel to this incomparable novel.
My rating: *****++
~Titania
"...things that no one knows, things that leave no trace,
do not exist..."
~Zeno's Conscience, Italo Svevo
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