One No One and One Hundred Thousand Review
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One, No I,
and One Hundred Thousand
by
Luigi Pirandello
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| Title: | One, No One, and Ane Hundred Thousand |
| Author: | Luigi Pirandello |
| Genre: | Novel |
| Written: | 1926 (Eng. 1990) |
| Length: | 218 pages |
| Original in: | Italian |
| Availability: | One, No Ane, and One Hundred Thousand - The states |
| One, No Ane, and One Hundred G - Great britain | |
| One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand - Canada | |
| United nations, personne et cent mille - France | |
| Einer, Keiner, Hunderttausend - Deutschland | |
| Uno, nessuno e centomila - Italian republic |
- Italian championship: Uno, nessuno e centomila
- Translated and with an Introduction by William Weaver
- Previously translated by Samuel Putnam as One, None and a Hundred-G (1933)
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Our Assessment:
B+ : enjoyably consuming identity-questioning rabbit-hole
Come across our review for fuller cess.
| Source | Rating | Date | Reviewer |
|---|---|---|---|
| The NY Times | . | 15/12/1990 | Herbert Mitgang |
From the Reviews:
- "Trying to explain a Pirandello plot is like trying to catch a tiger by the tail or walking with Vulcan on the lava of Mount Etna: dangerous. Put it this style: I, No Ane, and One Hundred K is Pirandellian." - Herbert Mitgang, The New York Times
Please notation that these ratings solely represent the complete review 's biased interpretation and subjective stance of the actual reviews and do non claim to accurately reverberate or correspond the views of the reviewers. Similarly the illustrative quotes chosen here are merely those the consummate review subjectively believes represent the tenor and judgment of the review as a whole. We admit (and remind and warn yous) that they may, in fact, be entirely unrepresentative of the bodily reviews by any other measure.
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The consummate review 's Review:
One, No Ane, and Ane Hundred Thousand is narrated past Vitangelo Moscarda, who is both ane and many -- and that's his trouble. It hasn't been a problem, but when, i morning, his wife points out that his nose tilts slightly to the right he is floored by the discovery of this long-unnoticed (past him) flaw. His wife doesn't aid by immediately pointing out that that's hardly his simply flaw, only the tilted olfactory organ was enough to set in motion the mega identity-crisis that then unfolds -- and the consequences.
Moscarda is a twenty-8-year-old human being of leisure. His begetter ran a bank, and has left him controlling interest in it, just Moscarda is not involved in the business, leaving information technology to others and living comfortably off the income. He is apparently something of a dilettante, having dabbled in various studies only never seeing them through ("I studied in various fields to a fairly advanced betoken, before I dropped them" -- including three years studying medicine). Indeed:
I followed all paths. Only when information technology came to advancing, I wouldn't advance. I would pause at every step; I took care to circle every pebble I encountered, first distantly, and so more closely; and I was quite amazed that others could pass ahead of me paying no mind to that pebble, which for me, meanwhile, had assumed the proportions of an insuperable mountain, or rather a world where I could easily have settled.This mountains-out-of-molehills approach will also mark what become his new obsessions, as he now comes to question the very fundamentals of his identity: he had e'er seen himself ane mode, but now realizes he didn't encounter his true self. Not even close, he thinks, if he hadn't even noticed his flawed nose all these years ..... Suddenly he realizes that that homo in the mirror is, in fact, a stranger. It dawns on him:
Many times I had happened to encounter casually in the mirror the optics of someone who was looking at me in the same mirror. I didn't see myself in the mirror, and was come across; and similarly, the otehr didn't see himself, but saw my confront and saw himself watched by me.What it boils down to is:
Still, at that place is no other reality outside of this, the momentary form nosotros manage to give to ourselves, to others, to things. For you my reality is in the form y'all give me; just it is reality for you, not for me; your reality, which for me is the class I give you; but it is reality for me and not for y'all; and for myself I accept no other reality except in the form I can give myself. How ? By constructing myself, in fact.Equally he draws the consequences of his new-institute agreement, he sees information technology applying universally -- even close to dwelling house. His wife calls him Gengè, and he realizes the Gengè she loves is a creation of her heed -- quite different from the Gengè he sees himself as. He fifty-fifty grows jealous:
not of myself, gentlemen, but of someone who wasn't I, a fool who had come up between me and my married woman; not like an empty shadow, no -- please believe me -- because he made me, on the reverse, a shadow me !, appropriating my body to brand her love him.This identity crisis -- of him and everyone seeing themselves and each other in myriad different ways, a mutual misapprehension at the most basic level of understanding of the cocky and the other -- becomes all-consuming. He sees the entire world, and everyone in it (himself included), through this dizzying kaleidoscopic lens.
When he doesn't like the widely-held public paradigm of himself in his banking company-role -- Moscarda the usurer -- he first tries to counter-act and subvert it, before finally attacking the root crusade, and trying to blow up the banking concern itself, as information technology were. Not surprisingly, there's soon a growing motion from interested parties, threatened by his actions, to accept him declared incompetent. Unsurprisingly, likewise, his wife, missing the Gengè she was in love with -- the cosmos of her mind she'd ever been able to see Moscarda every bit --, leaves him. And another woman, after he explains his theory of reality, perception, and identity to her, resorts to even more desperate action, driven to it: "by the instinctive, sudden horror of the human action into which she was almost to feel drawn by the strange fascination of everything I had said to her" -- a reaction he (and the reader) tin hardly fault her for.
Moscarda's shut test of the cocky (and the other(southward)) is, of course, also an do in self-destruction. Naturally, it overwhelms him:
But what other did I take inside me, except this torment that revealed me equally no one and as a hundred thou ?Pirandello's novel is philosophical and metaphysical, a shut exam of the fundamental question of how we and others see (and delude) ourselves about ourselves (and others). The narrator is torn:
The capacity for deluding ourselves that today's reality is the only truthful i, on the i mitt, sustains us, but on the other, it plunges us into an endless void, because today'due south reality is destined to prove mirage for us tomorrow; and life doesn't conclude. It tin can't conclude. Tomorrow if it concludes, it's finished.Eyes opened by his tilted nose, Moscarda is unable to embrace the delusion whatever longer -- and and then he tumbles on and on into the void. Pirandello presents this existentialist crisis quite entertainingly, too, but information technology is a dark fall.
A playful, meditative novel, enjoyably seeing its narrator consumed past his obsession.
- Thousand.A.Orthofer, 23 September 2018
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Links:
1, No One, and 1 Hundred Thou :- Spurl publicity page
- Feltrinelli publicity page
- Gallimard publicity page
- Edith's Miscellany
- First Monday
- James Reads Books
- Littératures (French)
- Mes impressions de lecture (French)
- Necessary Fiction
- Publishers Weekly
- roughghosts
- Die Welt (German)
- Nobel Prize, 1934
- Luigi Pirandello at books and writers
- The Notebooks of Serafino Gubbio (also: Shoot !)
- Meet Alphabetize of Italian literature
- See Index of Books by Nobel laureates nether review
- See Alphabetize of Books Written Betwixt 1900 and 1945
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Nearly the Author:
Italian author Luigi Pirandello, best known for his plays, lived 1867 to 1936. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1934.
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Source: https://www.complete-review.com/reviews/italia/pirandello.htm
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