One, No One and One Hundred Thousand

by Luigi Pirandello, William Weaver (Translator)

The great Pirandello's (1867-1936) 1926 novel, previously published here in 1933 in another translation, synthesizes the themes and personalities that illuminate such dramas as Six Characters in Search of an Author.

Vitangelo Moscarda ``loses his reality'' when his wife cavalierly informs him that his nose tilts to the right; suddenly he realizes that ``for others I was not what till now, privately, I had imagined myself to be,'' and that, consequently, his identity is evanescent, based purely on the shifting perceptions of those around him. Thus he is simultaneously without a self--``no one''--and the theater for myriad selves--``one hundred thousand.'' In a crazed search for an identity independent of others' preconceptions, Moscarda careens from one disaster to the next and finds his freedom even as he is declared insane.

It is Pirandello's genius that a discussion of the fundamental human inability to communicate, of our essential solitariness, and of the inescapable restriction of our free will elicits such thoroughly sustained and earthy laughter.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, Italian Literature, Italy, Philosophy, Literature, Novels

160 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1926

About the author

Luigi Pirandello; Agrigento (28 June 1867 – Rome 10 December 1936) was an Italian dramatist, novelist, poet, and short story writer whose greatest contributions were his plays.
He was awarded the 1934 Nobel Prize in Literature for "his almost magical power to turn psychological analysis into good theatre.
Pirandello's works include novels, hundreds of short stories, and about 40 plays, some of which are written in Sicilian. Pirandello's tragic farces are often seen as forerunners of the Theatre of the Absurd.

Reviews

[Maria · Rating 4 out of 5]

My son asked me what I was reading and for a second I did not know how to answer. I only said:
- One, no one, and one hundred thousand.
- What do you mean?
- Well you're one, right?
- Yes.
- And for me you are my son, to Anna you're her biggest brother, to grandmother you are her grandson, for the teacher you are "Peter, that boy who disturbs the class", to Victor you are his friend, for each person you're someone-else.
- (smiling) Yes.
- But for you? Who are you to you? None of those, right? Each sees you in his own way which is different from how you see yourself. And so you are one, you are a hundred thousand of you to a hundred thousand people and none of those hundred of thousands of you is not you, the one you know you are.
- (Laughing) See that if you explain, I understand?

[Glenn Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Luigi Pirandello (1867 - 1936) – Nobel Prize winning Italian playwright, novelist, poet and short story writer, perhaps best known for such outstanding plays as Six Characters in Search of an Author.

One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand is so well-constructed, each section flowing smoothly into the next, it’s as if the author penned all 160 pages in a single, uninterrupted creative burst. Remarkably, it’s just the opposite: Luigi Pirandello worked on this short novel on and off over the course of fifteen years, beginning at age forty-two and ending at age fifty-seven. And it isn’t as if Pirandello ordinarily worked at a methodically slow pace. Hardly. His output was phenomenal – during those same fifteen years, at the peak of his creative powers, he wrote hundreds of short stories as well as dozens of plays. The fifteen years to complete this novel speaks to how much care, attention and reflection Pirandello gave the subject, his lifelong preoccupation: the nature of identity.

Ah, the nature of identity. Do you reflect on the fact that you experience you from the inside and other people experience you from the outside? That’s right, the outside, as in how you look, how you speak and how you act. Or, stated slightly another way, your looks, speech and action independent of your inner thoughts and feelings. There’s just one and only one person blocked from experiencing you from the outside - you yourself. Sad but true: you can’t stand apart and be an outsider to yourself. Does this bother you? Probably not or not all that much. Well, it certainly bothers the novel’s narrator, Vitangelo Moscarda, bothering and weighing on him to the point of obsession.

Humor is laced throughout, right from the first page when, at age twenty-eight, his dear wife informs Moscarda that his nose tilts slightly to the right, quite the revelation since he has always been under the distinct impression he had, if not a handsome nose, then most certainly a decent nose. Reacting as if a dog and his wife just stepped on his tail, Moscarda spins around: “My nose tilts?!” Moscarda runs to the bathroom, slams the door and for the next hour scrutinize his face in the mirror.

Later that very same day, when a friend pays a visit to discuss a specific matter that might involve him personally, Moscarda cuts him off mid-sentence and asks if he, in fact, is looking at his nose. Thus we have the first push leading to a progressively more rapid downhill slide, as Moscarda confesses: “This was the beginning of my sickness. The sickness that would quickly reduce me to conditions of spirit and body so wretched and desperate that I would surely have died of them or gone mad if I had not found in the sickness itself (as I will tell) the remedy that was to cure me of it.”

True, we can’t stand outside ourselves but through the power of fiction, in one telling scene, Luigi Pirandello splits Moscarda right down the middle: a Moscarda sitting alone in his study and a Moscarda standing in the corner as objective outsider questioning, probing and pointing a sometimes ironic, sometimes accusing finger. We watch as both Moscardas take center stage in a short novelistic variation of his famous play, acting out their own spinoff Two Characters in Search of an Identity, as in, when we read: “Why do you go on believing the only reality is your reality, today’s, and you are amazed, and irritated, and you shout that your friend is mistaken, when, try as he may, poor thing, he will never be able to have, inside himself, poor thing, your same mood.” The fact that we humans construct our own identity as a builder builds a house, a construction that cannot be fully communicated to others, even one’s spouse or closest friends, begins to drive Moscarda berserk.

And the obverse, how other people construct their own version of his identity for themselves is an unavoidable truth Moscarda refuses to accept, particularly the way his wife Dida has constructed his identity as Genge, her little Genge, a little, loveable fool. Ahhh . . . unacceptable! On top of this, how the two men running the bank his father founded, Quantorzo, the manager, and Firbo, the councilor, likewise think him a harmless fool. And the people in his small city? Since Moscarda benefits so directly and handsomely from the business of the bank, they think him a usurer. A usurer! Now he really has reason to be driven berserk.

Throughout the first half of the book, Moscarda keeps his deep and unending inquiries into the nature of his own identity to himself, which is perfectly fine since, in truth, people don’t give a fig about his self-examination but simply want him to continue adhering to accepted social conventions, including acting with civility when dealing with business people in a business office. But there’s the rub: it’s this very conventional civility that has created all the unacceptable social identities of him formed by other people. Thus, Moscarda aims to put into practice his first experiment “in the destruction of Moscarda,” that is, he yearns to destroy the identity all those other people have of him as both fool and usurer.

What follows when he pays a visit first to the office of the notary Stampa and then to his bank to confront Quantorzo and Firbo are two of the most hilarious scenes I’ve ever encountered in literature. Rather than saying anything more specific (you will have to read for yourself) just think of another example: a modern day business office with several dozen men and women reading files, answering phone calls, writing reports. It is midafternoon and one of their longtime coworkers revolts against his dull, uptight, establishmentarian identity – he makes his grand entrée wearing a full-length yellow leotard with bells on his ankles, proceeds to execute backward and frontward flips before dancing around the office tossing daffodils. Well, of course, you can think of acting in such a kooky fashion and get away with it as long as you keep it to yourself and your imagination. However, if you actually perform such a stunt publicly just once - as we all know, one time is all it takes, you will immediately be labeled as mad, fired on the spot and perhaps even arrested.

What is the nature of the self? Does your own construction of identity put you in a box? Do you recognize your authentic self in the roles you take on? Likewise, does the identity others form of you restrict your freedom? And how about society as a whole? Is the social construction of identity corrosive and even an invasion of privacy? Is to live a “normal” life in our modern world in any way dehumanizing? I am reminded of the novel Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre as well as other existential fiction by such authors as Samuel Beckett, Franz Kafka, Bertolt Brecht and André Malraux. But with Luigi Pirandello’s novel, the story, existential to its core, is frequently laugh-out-loud funny, reminding me of Twelfth Night and that yellow stockinged prancing Malvolio. Thank you, Luigi. Highly, highly recommended.

[Mutasim Billah · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The capacity for deluding ourselves that today's reality is the only true one, on the one hand, sustains us, but on the other, it plunges us into an endless void, because today's reality is destined to prove delusion for us tomorrow; and life doesn't conclude. It can't conclude. Tomorrow if it concludes, it's finished.”

Let me go way back, some 8 years or whereabouts in the past. A younger Mutasim Billah is in a classroom where his English teacher is giving a valuable lesson in creative writing. He holds a page in front of the class and asks:

"Say, is there writing on this page?"
"Yes, sir!", the entire class chimes in.
"But how is that! The page is empty!"

The class is baffled. The students murmur, some adamantly believe that the teacher will change his mind and berate anyone who goes back on their word, so they voice their previous opinion louder. Others confusedly hold their opinions in check, in case the teacher proves them wrong.

The teacher smiles, and then in one single movement shows us the other side of the paper, the one that was not facing us, but the one that was, until then, facing him. The page was empty. The teacher was right.

Perspectives

Why is perspective so elusive? In a world of differing perspectives, which are the absolute truths? Or is there anything known as absolute truth?

Perspectivism falls among those philosophical views that give rise to more questions than answers, especially considering we never truly have a particular method of inquiry or a structural theory of knowledge. The view was first coined by Friedrich Nietzche.

"In so far as the word "knowledge" has any meaning, the world is knowable; but it is interpretable otherwise, it has no meaning behind it, but countless meanings.—"Perspectivism." It is our needs that interpret the world; our drives and their For and Against. Every drive is a kind of lust to rule; each one has its perspective that it would like to compel all the other drives to accept as a norm."

-Friedrich Nietzche in The Will to Power

In essence, we never have a perfect perspective as we choose to interpret the world as we would best want to make peace with it. A husband who despises low-fat milk would still drive around way out of his regular trip back home to get his wife her desired beverage, only so that he gets to be in the right. And so, that becomes his norm, and the wife lives oblivious to the fact that he despises low-fat milk. Let me come back to this a bit later.

Cooley's Looking-glass Self



The above meme is a perfect example of looking-glass self. The social psychological concept of the looking-glass self describes the development of one's self and of one's identity through one's interpersonal interactions within the context of society. Charles Horton Cooley clarified that society is an interweaving and inter-working of mental selves.

The looking-glass self comprises three main components.

- We imagine how we must appear to others.
- We imagine and react to what we feel their judgment of that appearance must be.
- We develop our self through the judgments of others.



Hmmm..... Fair enough! But where's the review?


One, None and a Hundred Thousand is a 1926 novel by the Italian writer Luigi Pirandello. The novel had a rather long and difficult period of gestation. Pirandello began writing it in 1909. In an autobiographical letter, published in 1924, the author refers to this work as the "...bitterest of all, profoundly humoristic, about the decomposition of life: Moscarda one, no one and one hundred thousand." The pages of the unfinished novel remained on Pirandello's desk for years and he would occasionally take out extracts and insert them into other works only to return, later, to the novel in a sort of uninterrupted compositive circle. Finally finished, Uno, Nessuno e Centomila came out in episodes between December 1925 and June 1926 in the magazine Fiera Letteraria.

The plot is built on three differing perspectives:

One, the belief that our self is one and the only self that we know ourselves to be.

A Hundred Thousand, meaning that we live a hundred thousand lives in the hundred thousand perspectives we come to face in the minds of the people in our lives, in turn giving rise to hundred thousand unique selves.

None, signifying that none of these are really a true self and that nothing holds true to test in the end.

The Story

Vitangelo Moscarda's world falls into complete disarray when, one day, by an innocent question, he's confronted with the reality that he isn't exactly of the same image he thought he had. Meaning, he looked different from his own mind-view of himself. And hence, Moscarda was to move into this never-ending soul-searching journey where he tries to find "the true self", the one who he believes is his original persona. Moscarda chooses to expose his true self by behaving contrary to his usual self in everyday aspects of his life, breaking down the fake images of Moscarda built to please the people in his life, exposing his true, darker desires. This, leads him to a journey towards madness and rediscovery.

I really enjoyed this book as I've always had a profound interest in the underlying themes in the story. I'd definitely recommend it if you're into existentialist literature and enjoy absurdist fiction.

[Araz Goran · Rating 5 out of 5]

" لم أعرف نفسي على الإطلاق، لم يكن لدي أي تصور خاص عن حقيقة نفسي، كنت في حالة من الوهم المتواصل، أكاد أكون مُنسابا��، مرناً، الآخرون عرفوني، كلٌ على طريقته، وفقاً للحقيقة التي أسبغوها علي.. "



بيراندللو عبقري للغاية لم أتوقع أن أقرأ له شيئاً كهذا، خاصة كأدباء إيطاليا الذين يتسمون بالبساطة والسحر وأسلوب السهل الممتنع والبعد عن التفلسف بشكل عام..

ما كتبه بيراندللو هنا مدهش وغير قابل للإستوعاب حتى، غامض، مُربك، بالكاد تمكنتُ من لملمة بعض أفكار هذا الإيطالي المجنون وكأنني أجمع حطباً من غابة لانهائية، بيراندللو يدخلك في حالة من الشك مع نفسك، يكسر يقينك الحاد بالتعرف على ذاتك في ذوات كثيرة مخبئة في داخلك، ضبابك، مخيلتك ، كما يراها الآخرون، كما ترى نفسك أنت في عيون الغير، يا إلهي كم يبدو الامر جنونياً حين يتحدث بيراندللو عن ذلك ، حالتك المعلقة الغير الثابتة في زمان ومكان معين، كيانك الهش الذي تفتخر به، ذلك الشيء أو الكائن المجزء في أشكال كثيرة، عدد هائل من الشخصيات داخلك، مائة ألف ربما أو يزيدون ..
وقد تكون لا أحد، من يعلم..


الوجوه مرايا والذوات عبارة عن تكرار لا نهائي عن شيء واحد هو أنت، هذا الأنت الذي يتكرر كل يوم، كل موعد، في طرفة عين ربما، لا تعود ابداً كما كنت عليه ، تلك مساحة الفراغ الهائلة التي تفصلك عن كل حالة من حالاتك، عن وجودك الأصلي ، الإنشقاق الوجودي الحاد الذي يحصل، أنت متأقلم فحسب ولكنك في حالة تغير مستمر، تحمل شخصياتك ، جنونك معك، تخبيء بعضها، تُظهر الأخرى، ترتاب في بعضها، ولا تحس أنك تنتمي لبعضها الآخر ، تغار من شخصيتك المُثلى، تخيل!! تجد أن عالمك مُكون من تلك الشخصيات المخبأة التي طالما حرصت كل الحرص على أن لا يتمكن الآخرون من رؤيتها فيك..


نحن شخصيات بمقدار وبعدد الناس الذين يروننا، كل منهم يرسم لنا شخصية معينة، ليست الشخصية هي نحن، فهي تختلف عن الشخص الذي رسمه الآخر لنا، بيراندللو يطرح سؤالاً ، كيف لكل تلك الشخصيات الكثيرة والمتناقضة أحياناً أن تصنع إنساناً واحداً، إنساناً واحداً فقط، إنسان يختلف حتى بنظر نفسه، يجمع كل تلك التناقضات ، الأشكال، المرايا الأخرى، يا إلهي يبدو وكأنه عالمٌ موازي ذلك الذي يتحدث به بيراندللو في الرواية ، عالم مشتت، مخيف، صادم، غير قابل للتعامل معه، وغير قابل للمجابهة ..


عاش "موسكاردا" حياته من دون مشاكل حتى بلغ الثامنة والعشرين من عمره، دون أن لا يلاحظ أي شيء على نفسه، حتى نبهته زوجته في يوم من الأيام أن أنفه مائل قليلاً نحو اليمين، كانت تلك الفكرة التي لم يتقبلها، لم يستوعبها حتى، كيف أنه عاش كل تلك السنوات وهو يظن أن لا عيب بوجهه ولم يلاحظ ذلك النقص، صُدم حينها، كيف أن الآخرين يرونه على نحوٍ مختلف مما يرى ذاته، وكيف أن زوجته وأقرب الناس إليه كانت لديها نظرة مغايرة تماماً عن نفسه، ليس على مستوى الشكل فحسب، بل حتى عالمه الداخلي الذي أدرك أن لا أحد يعلم ما يجري بداخله ، بل هو نفسه لم يدرك حقيقة نفسه كامل الإدراك، هذا الزلزال الوجودي الذي نبدأ رحلة الشك منه في الرواية والتأملات والأسئلة التي لا تنتهي سوى بإسئلة أكثر دهشةً ..


رواية فلسفية عميقة للغاية، لم أتمكن من فهم كل مادار بخلد بيراندللو وهو يكتب الرواية ، ولكن ما فهمته فقط جعلني أشعر بدوار وأنا أتخيل الفلسفة والتفكير الغامض الذي يتحدث به عن النفس، الإنسان، الشخصية، الكائن، هذا الكائن البشري اللغز ..
هي مغامرة في عمق الشخصية والهوية الإنسانية، حالة تماهي مع البعد اللامعقول في فردية الإنسان وتشكله وروحه، أعماقه، مع رؤيته لذاته والآخرين، رواية ساخرة، لاذعة ستجعلك تفكر من جديد في نفسك والآخرين وبعلاقتك بكل ما حولك ..

[BookHunter محمد · Rating 3 out of 5]

من الأبيات الأثيرة لديّ. بيت لأمل دنقل يقول:

إني لأفتح عيني .. حين أفتحها .. على كثيرٍ. و لكن لا أرى أحدا.

اثنان على طريق واحد ينظران إلى السماء فماذا يرون؟
الأول رأى طائرة محلقة في السماء و الثاني لم ير إلا زرقتها الصافية.
ماذا دار بخلد كل منهما؟
الأول تذكر السفر و الترحال و استعاد صوت النداء على الرحلة رقم ستمائة و ثمانية المتجهة إلى لندن و همس المضيفة عند السؤال عن وجبته المفضلة و دعاء السفر.
الأخر تذكر حبيبته التي رحلت و لم يعد في الإمكان أن يلتقيا مرة أخرى. تذكر صفاء عينيها و براءتهما. سرح بخياله في عالم بعيد لم يدرك منه إلا بعض ظلال ملونه و أحلام لن تجيء.
ثم نظر كل منهما إلى الأخر و واصلا طريقهما غير عابئين بما رئيا و ما تداعى في ذهنيهما.
ما بالك إن كان الناظرون ثلاثة .. عشرة .. مائة .. أو مائة ألف. سيكون لدينا ألف ألف مشهد من مشهد واحد بتعدد المشاهدين له.
هذا عن السماء. فماذا عن الإنسان؟
أنت ترى أحمد صديقك الذي تعرفه بصورة مغايرة لمحمود صديقنا المشترك الذي يرى جانبا أخر من أحمد لا أتخيل أنا أصلا وجوده. بينما والديّ أحمد يرونه بصورة مختلفة تماما و كذلك اخوته. و لو اجتمعنا جميعا لوصف شخصية أحمد لما تطابقت روايتان اثنتان مهما كثر الجمع و كبر الحشد و زادت المعرفة.
الأعجب أن كل هذه الصور تختلف عن الصورة التي كونها أحمد عن نفسه و عاش على أساسها بين كل هؤلاء البشر.
هل لدينا هنا أحمد واحد أم مائة أم مئة ألف؟ أم أن لا وجود في الأساس لهذا الأحمد و لا يوجد في الواقع إلا تصوراتنا عنه التي شكلها وعينا بالحق أو بالباطل و كل حسب معرفته بأحمد و اختلاطه به و تعامله معه؟!
إذا فهو في النهاية لا أحد و هو واحد و هو مئة ألف أو يزيدون.
لا أعرف ان كانت الفكرة قد وصلت لك بهذه الطريقة أم ما زالت مشوشة. فالكاتب دار كثيرا حول هذه المعاني ناسجا رواية فلسفية عجيبة و جديرة بالقراءة و ان كانت ستصيبك بالملل و التشتت في أحيان كثيرة إلا أنها في النهاية تزداد تماسكا و اثارة كلما اقتربنا من النهاية.

[Ahmad Sharabiani · Rating 4 out of 5]

Uno, Nessuno e Centomila = One, No One and One Hundred Thousand, Luigi Pirandello

Vitangelo Moscarda is a rich man. One day his wife tells him that her nose is crooked. This statement becomes an excuse for Moscarda to see himself in the mirror again and again and pay attention to know what he looks like from the point of view of others. He also doubts his own image and moral character.

Vitangelo Moscarda discovers by way of a completely irrelevant question that his wife poses to him that everyone he knows, everyone he has ever met, has constructed a Vitangelo persona in their own imagination and that none of these personas corresponds to the image of Vitangelo that he himself has constructed and believes himself to be.

تاریخ نخستین خوانش نسخه فارسی: سال 1974میلادی

عنوان: ی‍ک‍ی‌، ه‍ی‍چ‍ک‍س‌، ص‍ده‍زار؛ نویسنده: ل‍وئ‍ی‍ج‍ی‌ پ‍ی‍ران‍دل‍و؛ مت‍رج‍م ب‍ه‍م‍ن‌ ف‍رزان‍ه‌؛ تهران، پیام: موسسه انتشارات فرانکلین‏‫، 1350؛ در 138ص؛ چاپ دیگر: تهران، انتشارات علمی فرهنگی؛ 1388، در 145ص؛ شابک 9789644459320؛موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان ایتالیا - سده 20م

فهرست: کتاب اول: «بیگانه ای درون من»؛ کتاب دوم: «رویای بیهوده حقیقت»؛ کتاب سوم: «داستان خانوادگی من»؛ کتاب چهارم: «من رباخوار نیستم»؛ کتاب پنجم: «بوی گند بشریت»؛ کتاب ششم: «آزاد شدم»؛ کتاب هفتم: «آنارزا»؛ کتاب هشتم: «پایانی وجود ندارد»؛

داستان درباره ی «موسکاردا» مردی ثروتمند است، که روزی زنش به او میگوید، دماغش کج است (به سمت راست انحراف دارد)، و همین بهانه ای میشود، برای اینکه «موسکاردا» بارها و بارها، خویشتن را در آئینه ببیند، و بیشتر توجه میکند تا بداند، که از دیدگاه سایرین، او چه شکلی است، و کم کم به شکل و شمایل و ویژگیهای اخلاقی خود نیز، شک میکند؛ «موسکاردا» آدم میانسالی هم نیست، یک راوی بیست و هشت ساله است، که در پایان سن نوجوانی ازدواج کرده؛ سخن همسرش روی او اثر میگذارد، و نه تنها به دماغش، بلکه به سایر اندامهای خود هم با دیدی دیگر مینگرد؛ مردمان دیگر را هم با همین نگاه وسواسگونه ورانداز میکند؛ آئینه در این رمان، همانند یک شخصیت است؛ اگر کسی برابرش بایستد، او را نمایش میدهد؛ اما نشان دادن آن همراه با فریب است؛ آنگونه نیست که دیگران میبینند، و گاهی عیبها را نیز به رخ میکشند؛ نویسنده «پیراندلو» هم باور دارند که نمیتوان مقابل آئینه ایستاد و آن بیگانه را که درون هر کسی هست دید و شناخت؛ «موسکاردا» آنگاه که رودروی آیینه میایستد همگی حرکاتش ساختگی میشود؛ او میخواهد آن بیگانه را همانگونه که دیگران میبینند ببیند و بشناسد

نقل ها:
هرگز نتوانسته بودم به زندگی خود شکلی بدهم، هرگز اخلاق و روحیه خود را کاملا قبول نکرده بودم؛ شاید به خاطر اینکه هرگز در زندگی به مشکلی برخورد نکرده بودم، تا در مقابلش استقامت کرده، خود را شناخته و به دیگران بشناسانم؛ شاید هم به خطر اخلاقم، که به همه‌ چیز تمایل داشت، مدام خود را فدای این و آن می‌کردم؛ عاقبت از آن‌چه وحشت داشتم بر سرم آمده بود: من اصلا خود را نمی‌شناختم و هرگز برای خود حقیقتی درست نکرده بودم...؛

من یک نفر را می‌شناسم و بنا بر شناسایی خودم از او حقیقتی برای خودم می‌سازم٬ این یک نفر را شما هم می‌شناسید و مطمئنن حقیقتی که شما از او برای خود ساخته‌‌اید با حقیقتی که من از او ساخته‌ام تفاوت دارد؛ از طرف دیگر هم آن یک نفر برای خودش در ارتباطی که با من و شما دارد حقایقی درست کرده است؛ خود را در آشنایی با من و آشنایی با شما٬ به دو صورت مختلف می‌شناسد و به همین ترتیب با نفر سوم و چهارم٬ تا آخر؛ در نتیجه می‌بینیم که او با من یک جور است٬ با شما جور دیگر٬ با نفر سوم جور دیگر٬ با نفر چهارم ...؛ و بیهوده تصور می‌کند که با همه یک جور است؛ اشکال قضیه در همین جاست؛ شاید هم بهتر باشد اسم آن را شوخی قضیه بگذاریم؛ عملی را انجام می‌دهیم و با خیال راحت تصور می‌کنیم آن عمل را شخصا انجام داده‌ایم ولی بدبختانه متوجه می‌شویم که چنین نیست، این عمل را یکی از صدهزار نفری که در ما وجود دارد انجام داده است؛

آه که زنها چقدر جالبند و شوهرها قدرشان را نمیدانند؛ زنها آفریده شده اند تا عیوب شوهران خود را کشف کنند؛
پایان نقل ها

تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 03/04/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی

[Orlando Fato · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of those books that blows you away. Why? Well, Mr. Pirandello's novel will make you doubt about who you are for years. This is the book I would pick up if I were asked to choose the one novel which has taught me the most about life.

This book is a challenging read. However, whenever you find yourself not understanding, there will be something further ahead telling you that you are on the right track. Only by deconstructing yourself, you will be able to open your mind and learn about yourself. Deconstructing yourself can be challenging, so keep this in mind; otherwise, frustration won't let you enjoy and appreciate this novel.

Are you who you really think you are? Nope, that is just one of the “one hundred thousand” sides that make up the whole of you. These sides are the many versions of yourself seen by the people around you. You can only see your “own” version of yourself, but is this your true self? “No one” really knows, not even you.

After reading this book, all I was sure of is that nothing in this world is objective. Life is just an illusion that changes with time as our perceptions sharpen up or as we allow our dogmas and beliefs to be flexible in a world where absolutely nothing is stiff or one sided.

[StefanP · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ja sam želio da budem sam na potpuno drugi način: to jest bez sebe, ali u prisustvu nekog drugog.

Jedan, nijedan i sto hiljada je filozofski roman. Poslednji Pirandelov. Roman je pikantno izbrušen, a tema municiozno ispripovijedana. Knjiga se bavi sopstvom, unutrašnjim stanjem sebe, i samovanjem. Pirandelo je pokušao da duboko pronikne u sociometafizičko biće, da ispita različite aspekte svoje stvarnosti. On osjeća da to nije on. Da je izgrađen nečim nepoznatim, tuđincem u sebi, i želi da ga upozna izvan sebe. Kada se Moskarda jednom pogleda u ogledalo i sa svojom ženom uoči blagu devijaciju nosa to će zauvijek promijeniti njegovo osjećanje i sagledavanje i sebe i drugih oko sebe. 'Kriza identiteta' postaće okosnica romana. Njegov lik počinje da poprima sasvim novo obličje, a stvarnost koju će da pridoda svom novom liku biće sagledavana iz jednih, nijednih ili sto hiljada očiju.

Svako ima svoju građevinu Moskardinog lika i to je njihova stvarnost sagledavanja, ali da li i sam Moskarda isto sagledava sebe i druge oko sebe? Često će Moskardina percepcija da klizi po onome što je postojano i što je opsjena. Ako čovjek nije kadar da spozna sebe kako će onda druge ljude da izgradi? Kako će onda i sebe da izgradi? To će biti samo neka od pitanja ove priče. Čitaocu će biti zanimljivo da iz svog ugla gleda Moskardinu (piščev alter ego) opsesiju sobom, to poigravanje unutrašnjeg sa spoljašnjim, kao i distinkciju onoga 'što sam za sebe' i onoga 'što sam za druge.'

[Dagio_maya · Rating 4 out of 5]

“La vita si muove di continuo, e non può mai veramente vedere se stessa.”

Chi, almeno una volta nella vita, non ha provato stupore sentendo la propria voce registrata?
«Ma è proprio così la mia voce?» è l’inevitabile domanda che faremmo a chi è presente.
Io ho fatto un esperimento da cui ho ricavato ben tre risposte differenti:
un secco «Si!», un laconico «No…», un ruffiano «Beh, la tua voce è più dolce…».

La realtà, come ci racconta Pirandello, è una per noi stessi ma nel momento in cui ci si accorge di essere altro si annulla (nessuno) per poi moltiplicarsi nelle svariate sfaccettature create da chi ci sta attorno (centomila).

Basta una piccola osservazione fatta dalla moglie sul proprio naso (” – Ma sì, caro. Guardatelo bene: ti pende verso destra.”) e per Vitangelo Moscarda (” Il nome, sia: brutto fino alla crudeltà. Moscarda. La mosca, e il dispetto del suo aspro fastidio ronzante. “) cominciano a vorticare pensieri e riflessioni ossessive:

” (…) considerazioni che mi scavavano dentro e bucheravano giù per torto e su per traverso lo spirito, come una tana di talpa; senza che di fuori ne paresse nulla.”

La scoperta di essere racchiuso in una forma provoca in Moscarda un moto di ribellione che condurrà alla pazzia:

” Ma io ero pazzo perché ne avevo appunto questa precisa e specchiante coscienza, voi che pur camminate per questa medesima strada senza volervene accorgere, voi siete savii, e tanto piú quanto piú forte gridate a chi vi cammina accanto:
– Io, questo? io, cosí? Tu sei cieco! tu sei pazzo!”

Pubblicato nel 1926, dopo una lunghissima gestazione (la prima versione risaliva la 1909) fu l’ultimo romanzo di Pirandello e che lui stesso definì "più amaro di tutti, profondamente umoristico, di scomposizione della vita".

Oltre alla considerazioni esistenziali e filosofiche rese dal personaggio Moscarda con una certa esasperazione, il romanzo presenta due elementi autobiografici importanti:
il rapporto tormentato con il padre e la pazzia della moglie con la sua ossessiva gelosia.
Questi elementi sono ben delineati in un interessante saggio di Andrea Camilleri Biografia del figlio cambiato di cui consiglio la lettura perchè getta uno sguardo diverso su tutta la produzione pirandelliana.

-------------------------------------------------------

” Volto subito gli occhi per non vedere piú nulla fermarsi nella sua apparenza e morire. Cosí soltanto io posso vivere, ormai. Rinascere attimo per attimo. Impedire che il pensiero si metta in me di nuovo a lavorare, e dentro mi rifaccia il vuoto delle vane costruzioni.”

[Jim Fonseca]

I have enjoyed some other works by this author, such as The Late Mattia Pascal, but this was a DNF for me. I got about a third of the way through, so I gave it a good shot.

In all of the other works I’ve read by this author, the main character is an anti-hero, stumbling through life, always doing and saying the wrong thing, then trying to make amends, and getting himself in deeper. This book has the usual humor and sarcasm but it’s basically philosophical ramblings as we watch the main character’s descent into madness. Otherwise there’s no plot.

“Wives are made for discovering a husband’s faults.”

His father died before he gave him a grandson “who would be not at all like me.”

He wants to be alone “without myself, and with a stranger at hand.”

There’s a lot of looking in the mirror. Who is it? Is it me? A stranger? What if we never were able to see a reflection of our selves?

You’re not the same person you were a minute ago. (Thus the one hundred thousand of the title.)

“Does a cloud by any chance know anything of the fact of being?...But to explain the wherefore of the why?”

I gave up. Maybe it’s just me because the book is highly rated on GR – about a 4.1 and many of my GR friends rated it highly. I didn’t give a rating because I did not finish it.

I also note some confusion in the title given this translated book – it is listed as both ‘One, None’ and ‘One, No One.’



The Italian author (1867-1936) won the Nobel Prize in 1934. Photo from news.18.com

[Pavel Nedelcu · Rating 5 out of 5]

LA TERRIFICANTE SOGGETTIVITÀ DEL MONDO ESTERNO

Una descrizione deliziosamente ironica di un mondo completamente soggettivo in cui ci vediamo in modo diverso da tutti coloro che ci circondano.



Abbiamo un'opinione diversa di noi stessi rispetto agli altri. La nostra stessa fisionomia acquista dimensioni soggettive.

Dopotutto, non siamo mai stati capaci di ammirarci dall'esterno, alienandoci dal nostro stesso corpo.

Quando il protagonista se ne rende conto, ha inizio una grave crisi esistenziale.

[Nikos Tsentemeidis · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Διότι πρέπει να σταματήσετε στιγμιαία μέσα σας τη ζωή, για να δείτε τον εαυτό σας. Όπως μπροστά από μια φωτογραφική μηχανή. Εσείς προσποιείστε. Και με το να προσποιείστε είναι σαν να γίνεστε άγαλμα για μια στιγμή. Η ζωή κινείται συνεχώς και δεν μπορείτε ποτέ να δείτε πραγματικά τον ίδιο σας τον εαυτό."

Πιραντέλλο: ο Ιταλός Ντοστογιέφσκι !!!

[Nickolas the Kid · Rating 5 out of 5]

Σε αυτό το βιβλίο ο Πιραντέλο καταδύεται στα βάθη της ανθρώπινης ψυχολογίας και σχολιάζει με τον δικό του τρόπο το πόσο εύπλαστος είναι ο χαρακτήρας μας και αποδομεί σκωπτικά την προσωπικότητα μας. Ποιοί είμαστε, ποιοί θα θέλαμε να είμαστε και ποιοί νομίζουν οι άλλοι ότι είμαστε άραγε;
Ο Γούντι Άλεν στην ταινία - mockumentary του, "Zelig" παρουσιάζει έναν ανθρωπάκο ο οποίος έχει μια μοναδική ικανότητα. Να αντιγράφει τα χαρακτηριστικά αυτού με τον οποίο συναναστρέφεται. Όταν πηγαίνει να φάει σε ένα ελληνικό μαγαζί καταλήγει κοιλαράς με μουστάκι και κομπολόι, ενώ βγαίνοντας από ένα γαλλικό κατάστημα έχει τα χαρακτηριστικά του μέσου Γάλλου διανοούμενο. Ο σκηνοθέτης προσεγγίζει με χιούμορ τους εκατό χιλιάδες Μοσκάντα του Πιραντέλο. Η προσωπικότητα μας προσαρμόζεται είτε το θέλουμε είτε όχι. Ανακαλύπτουμε πως οι εξωγενείς παράγοντες καθώς και ο στενός κύκλος επαφών μας τη διαμορφώνουν με τρόπο μοναδικό.
Ο ήρωας του Πιραντέλο κατανοεί σταδιακά πως τα πάντα στην ψυχολογία μας είναι σχετικά. Δεν υπάρχουν θέσφατα και κανόνες. Η κρίση μας, οι αδυναμίες μας και οι επιθυμίες μας είναι όλα εύπλαστα. Θέλουμε να ανακαλύψουμε την προσωπική μας αλήθεια αλλά ουσιαστικά μας εμποδίζουν χιλιάδες πράγματα. Ούτε ένας καθρέφτης δεν είναι ικανός να απεικονίσει τον πραγματικό μας χαρακτήρα. Ο ένας που βλέπουν οι άλλοι είναι ο κανένας για μας. 'Όλοι πιστεύουν ότι μας γνωρίζουν, αλλά στην ουσία γνωρίζουν αυτόν που εκείνοι θέλουν να δουν.
Και βέβαια όταν αλλάξουμε την παγιωμένη εικόνα μας προς του άλλους τότε επέρχεται ο φόβος και η απορία. Ή ακόμα και η πτώση. Χαρακτηριστικό παράδειγμα το ομότιτλο βιβλίο του Καμί, στο οποίο ο πρωταγωνιστής όταν αποφασίζει να κάνει αυτό που πραγματικά θέλει κι όχι αυτό που του επιβάλλουν οι άλλοι πέφτει. Και η Πτώση είναι μοιραία.
Ο Βιτάντζελο Μοσκάρντα είναι ο ίδιος ο Πιραντέλο, ο οποίος ολοκληρώνει την πιο ώριμη συγγραφική του περίοδο με ένα λογοτεχνικό διαμάντι, παρακαταθήκη για όλους του μελλοντικούς αναγνώστες αλλά και συγγραφείς που θέλουν να συνδυάσουν την ψυχολογία με την λογοτεχνία. Ο συγγραφέας δεν χρησιμοποιεί σύνθετη γλώσσα, παρόλα αυτά το κείμενο γίνεται πολλές φορ��ς απαιτητικό κυρίως λόγω της καταιγιστική γραφής του Πιραντέλο, ο οποίος εν τέλει δεν καταλήγει σε συμπεράσματα αλλά δημιουργεί το κατάλληλο έδαφος για αναζήτηση και προβληματισμό.
Δώστε μια ευκαιρία στον εαυτό σας να γνωρίσει το συγγραφικό μεγαλείο του Ιταλού δημιουργού και ποιός ξέρει; Ίσως να δείτε στον καθρέφτη έναν από τους εκατό χιλιάδες ή ίσως και κανέναν!
5/5

[Argos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pirandello nefis mizahi anlatımıyla insanın varoluşu ve kişiliği üzerine düşünüyor ve sorguluyor. Romanın kahramanı “ah, keşke aynı bir taş ya da bir bitki gibi var olduğumuzun bilincinde olmadan yaşasak diye düşünen “Vitangelo Moscarda”. Kendinden başlayarak herkesi sorgulayan, Moscardo’nun kendisinin gördüğü kişi mi, başkalarının gördüğü kişi mi olduğunu sorgular bunun için vücudundan, yaşadığı evden, şehirden, kırlardan yararlanır. Sorgulamalarından ölmüş babası da nasibini alır. Varsa yoksa karşısındakinin ya da başkalarının kendisi hakkında ne düşündüğünü (ki bu düşünceler hiç mi hiç olumlu değillerdir) düşünmekle geçen bir ömür.

Karısı başta olmak üzere tüm dostları için ne kadar varsa kendisini o kadar yok hissediyor ve hiçbir zaman var olmamıştım diye kendini doğruluyor. Bu insanların her birinin kahramanımızda gördüğü Moscarda’ların hiçbiri, kendisi için bir hiç olan ben ile örtüşmüyor diye düşünüyor; nitekim o pek çok Moscarda'nın her biri, kendi gerçekliğime sahip olmayan benden çok daha gerçekti diyor. İnsan kendisine karşı bu kadar acımasız, bu kadar şüpheci, güvensiz ve yaralayıcı olabilir mi ? Bu olumsuzluğunu ne kadar taşıyabilir ? Deliliğe geçiş o kadar da zor değilmiş galiba ?

“İntiharı düşünen birisi, neden kendisi için değil de başkaları için ölü olduğunu hayal eder? “. Kitaptaki cümlelerden seçtiğim örnek bir cümle, insanı tedirgin bir düşünmeye sevkeden bunun gibi onlarca cümle var. İtalyanca yazılmış bir “Huzursuzluğun Kitabı” dersem abartmış olmam herhalde, her ne kadar Pessoa’yı okurken duyduğum huzursuzluğu burada duymasam da. Kitabı bitirince kendime sordum; her insanın bir “Genge”si olsa dünya neye benzerdi ?

Yazarımız tiyatro oyun yazarı da olduğundan çoğu günlük konuşma dilinde, monologlarla olayı kurgulamış, ancak bazı karakterler hakkında veya o karakterlerin kendisi hakkında ne düşündüklerini sanki copy-paste gibi yazdığından, “burayı okumuştum” haline sıkça düştüm, bu ise okumamı biraz sevimsiz hale getirse de bütün olarak rahat okuduğumu söyleyebilirim. Ancak bazı cümleleri iki kez okuduğumu, içerik olarak yoğun bu cümlelerin iki okuma sonradı anlaşılır olduğunu da belirtmek isterim. Her ne kadar mizahi dille yazılmış olsa da oldukça felsefi bir roman olduğundan hızlı bir okuma beklememek gerek. Edebi bir “izafiyet teorisi” dersem abartmış mı olurum acaba ? Listenize alın bence bir ara sakin bir kafayla okuyun derim.

[Mahmoud Masoud · Rating 4 out of 5]

عندما تنظر إلى المرآة، وترى نفسك، هل هذا الشخص الذي تبصره أمامك، هو نفسه أنت! أو بمعنى آخر هل كل العيون التي تنظر إليك ترى نفس الشخص؟

في صباح يوم ما، كان السيد موسكاردا ينظر إلى المرآة، ليفاجأ بزوجته وهي تخبره أن أنفه مائل قليلاً! كيف لم يلحظ ذلك من قبل؟ وليس ذلك فقط، فلديه عيوب أخرى لم يلحظها قط. يعتاد بعدها أن ينظر إلى الآخرين ليرى عيوبهم التي لم يلحظها من قبل، ويفكر كيف ينظر الناس إليه، ويستنتج أن كل عينين تنظر له ترى شخص من وجهة نظرها الخاصة ..

في هذه الرواية الفلسفية العظيمة، يفسر لنا برانديللو كيف ننظر إلى الآخرين، وكيف ينظرون إلينا. وأيضاً كيف يمكن أن يكون لنا شخصية مختلفة من وجهة نظر كل شخص يرانا! وعندما نشرع في الحديث إلى الآخرين، رغم أننا نتحدث بنفس اللغة، لكن كل منّا يفهم الآخر من وجهة نظره هو وليس وجهة نظرنا نحن..

رواية رائعة جدا.. ستجعلك تفكر في نظرة الآخرين لك، ونظرتك للآخرين بشكل مختلف.. رواية دسمة، أنصح بها لمحبي الروايات الفلسفية..
.

[Marco Tamborrino · Rating 1 out of 5]

Quel lontano giorno futuro in cui cambieranno le antologie scolastiche togliendo tutte le inutili decine di pagine di pippe mentali pirandelliane per sostituirle con storie ricche di sentimento.

A me ha fatto cagare. Punto. Prendetelo per un parere soggettivo. Il fu Mattia Pascal mi era piaciuto. Questo no, non l'ho retto. Mi è sembrato una puttanata. Ripetere per 200 pagine un concetto interessante che si poteva esprimere in due. Grazie, ma no. Qui non c'è storia. Alla faccia del romanzo. È una speculazione filosofica sul tema delle maschere e delle personalità, stop. Anche se mi fosse interessato, dopo pagina cinquanta avrei sclerato comunque.

[Nour Allam · Rating 3 out of 5]

كتابي ال (100) لعام 2018.



عندما تظل طوال حياتك مخدوعاً من الجميع... حتى من نفسك! عندما تكتشف أن لا أحد يعرفك حقاً، كلٌّ منهم يراك كما يريد لا كما أنت فعلاً. عندما تضيع في متاهات روحك ��لا تستطيع الخروج... عندما تبحث عن ذاتك الحقيقية وتحاول أن تريها للآخرين فلا تفلح! عندما ينهار كلّ شيء من حولك بسبب موقف واحد وكلمة صغيرة: ماذا ستفعل؟؟؟؟

التقييم:
🌟🌟🌟 3 نجوم، النصف الأول أجمل بكثير من النصف الثاني... العنوان جذاب جداً والغلاف رائع😍😍😍

[Emilio Gonzalez · Rating 4 out of 5]

La mayoría de las veces, la imagen que tenemos de nosotros mismos no coincide con la que los demás tienen de nosotros, pero pocas veces tomamos conciencia de esta diferencia. Esto es justamente lo que, de manera accidental, descubre Vitangelo Moscarda cuando su mujer le hace un comentario sobre lo torcida de su nariz, algo que él nunca había notado, y comienza a notar otros defectos nunca observados por él; entonces advierte que durante toda su vida la gente que lo conoce debe de haberlo visto de una manera totalmente distinta a como él creía que lo veían. Y así, sin reconocerse en la imagen que lo demás tienen de él comienza a reflexionar sobre su identidad y que no hay un solo Moscarda sino muchos, tanto según la imagen que cada conocido tiene de él y comienza su esfuerzo por descubrir quien es realmente él para sus allegados y luego descomponer esa imagen y “demostrar que podía no ser, también para los demás, el que creían que era”.

Es una novela profunda con muchas ideas y frases interesantes para resaltar que te dejan reflexionando. Hay ciertos momentos en que el libro se hace algo pesado, pero no pasa mucho hasta que aparece algún nuevo apunte interesante que te mete nuevamente de lleno en la lectura.
Una lectura realmente muy recomendable.
4,5


“¡Ah!, ¿creéis vosotros que se construyen sólo las casas? Yo me construyo de continuo y os construyo, y vosotros hacéis otro tanto. Y la construcción dura mientras no se resquebraja el material de nuestros sentimientos y mientras dura el cemento de nuestra voluntad”

“¿Y los demás? Los demás no están en absoluto dentro de mi. Para los demás, que miran desde fuera, mis ideas, mis sentimientos tienen una nariz. Mi nariz. Y tienen un par de ojos, mi ojos, que yo no veo y que ellos ven. ¿Que relación existe entre mis ideas y mi nariz? Para mi, ninguna. Yo no pienso con la nariz, ni me preocupo de ella al pensar. Pero, ¿Y los demás? ¿Los demás que no pueden ver dentro de mí mis ideas y ven desde fuera mi nariz? Para los demás, la relación entre mis ideas y mi nariz es tan intima, que si aquellas, supongamos, fueran muy serias y ésta por su forma muy ridículamente, se echarían a reír.”

[Chrissie · Rating 2 out of 5]

Vitangelo Moscarda is the central character of this story. He is Italian, married and twenty-eight. He has no kids. Nobody disputes these facts. Everything else about his personality--his goals, motivations and manner of being—may be and is up for debate!

The book is a novel but reads as a philosophical treatise. Its theme is who we really are. Are we most accurately how we view ourselves or how others view us? Can an accurate representation be drawn by any? A quick glance in a mirror shows one person, but a glance a few seconds later shows another. What is seen is influenced by the person observing and by ever-changing shifts in emotions, thoughts, happenings and movements. Nothing stays still. Everything changes. All that influences how a person is perceived is legion. Is there one correct true version of a person or does it not exist or are there many? See the title.

Moscarda wants to understand who he is. He analyzes the question from a zillion different perspectives. He talks to us and tells us his thoughts over and over again. Then he attempts to change how others see him, but his thoughts and words continue. He is repetitive and the analysis becomes repetitive. What starts as an interesting question is pushed to extreme.

Does it sound like I have not enjoyed the book? I have. I have given it two stars, which means it was OK, but could have been better. It has provided me with mental gymnastics. The questions posed are interesting, and the author, in the guise of Moscarda, stretches the central theme to other topics worthy of consideration too, for example the ability of flora and fauna to communicate. What we know today about animals’ thought processes and the complicated interdependence between flora and microbes show that some of the ideas expressed in the book were ahead of their time.

The author, Luigi Pirandello (1867-1936), won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1934. The book was published in 1933. It is considered a classic, and I had never heard of the guy. I had to give it a try. His writing has a particular style that is fun to be acquainted with. You could say the thread of thoughts are interminably long-winded. Or you can say they intrigue and twirl, revolving in diminishing and expanding circles, one minute tying your thoughts into knots, in the next making you laugh.

Just as the book says, none of us sees anything the same. This is a theme all of us have talked about on GR, isn’t it? In extension, if none of us see things in the same way, how can we possibly know who we truly are?

Except, except…….with time you can draw some conclusions about a person, based on what they say and think and do. You see I cannot stop thinking about the questions posed in the book!

Chris Mattews narrates the audiobook. He does a good job. What is said is clearly spoken, and it Is not hard to follow. In the beginning he speaks a little bit fast.

You cannot listen to the book for long stretches. Your head gets tied into a knot, not because of how it is read but because of its philosophical content. It is interesting, does give food for thought, but is too exaggerated and repetitive.

[Andrei Tamaş · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lectură cu un uşor iz de filosofie existenţialistă, "Unul, nici unul şi o sută de mii" prezintă natura multiplă a fiinţei umane, natură dată de raportul acesteia cu oamenii din jur: eu mă înfăţişez într-un fel în ochii lui X, însă în alt fel în ochii lui Y (iar asta nu depinde exclusiv de mine, ci şi de ei). Se regăseşte, de asemenea, lupta naturii fizice (a trupului) cu eul (sufletul), ca şi cum trupul ar fi un concept eterogen faţă de suflet. Încercând să se debaraseze de propria-i percepţie asupra sa (şi -inclusiv- de percepţia altora asupra lui), naratorul, care este şi personaj, ajunge să fie considerat nebun din pricina înfăptuirii anumitor acţiuni care, deşi legale şi -mai mult!- morale, atrag aversiunea apropiaţilor săi...

Câteva reflecţii privind natura duală a fiinţei:

1. "De ce, când cineva doreşte să se sinucidă, se imaginează mort nu pentru sine, ci pentru ceilalţi?"

2. "A te cunoaşte înseamnă a muri. Dumneavoastră staţi şi va uitaţi atâta în oglindă, în toate oglinzile, deoarece nu trăiţi; nu ştiţi, nu puteţi sau nu vreţi să trăiţi. Vreţi să va cunoaşteţi prea mult, şi nu trăiţi."

3. "Oamenii, vezi, simt nevoia să facă o casă a sentimentelor lor. Nu le ajunge că au înăuntru, în inimă, sentimentele; vor să le vadă şi în afară, să le atingă. Şi atunci le construiesc o casă" - remarcă referitoare la nevoia omului de divinitate şi la fastul Bisericii (în context).

Andrei Tamaş

[Konstantina August · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ένας: Αυτός που νομίζεις εσύ για τον εαυτό σου πως είσαι.

Εκατό χιλιάδες: Αυτοί οι εκατό χιλιάδες (+) που είσαι για τους ανθρώπους γύρω σου, γιατί για τον καθένα είσαι και ένας άλλος.

Κανένας: Δεν είσαι τίποτα, δεν ήσουνα ποτέ, που λέει και η λαίδη. Γιατί δεν σε καθορίζει μια στιγμή, μια πράξη, ούτε καν μια περίοδος της ζωής σου. Κάθε δευτερόλεπτο αλλάζεις. Είσαι μια κατασκευή που δεν παύει ποτέ να μεταλάσσεται μέσα στο χρόνο.

Αναμφισβήτητα, πολύ ενδιαφέρουσα η οπτική του Πιραντέλλο πάνω στη θεματική της φύσης της ταυτότητας. Ξεχωριστό ανάγνωσμα.

Αυτό που δεν μου άρεσε ήταν η απόλυτη βεβαιότητα του συγγραφέα για τις αντιδράσεις και τα συναισθήματα του αναγνώστη σχετικά με τις αγωνιώδεις φιλοσοφικές του διαπιστώσεις.

Ούτε ταυτίστηκα με την απελπισία του ήρωα που τον οδήγησε σταδιακά προς την τρέλα, ούτε αισθάνθηκα ότι κάποιος μου άνοιξε τα μάτια και μου έτριψε στη μούρη μια πικρή αλήθεια που με έκανε να μελαγχολήσω. Ίσα ίσα, η ιδεολογία του βιβλίου με έκανε να επιβεβαιώσω ιδέες που δεν είχα αναλύσει σε τόσο βάθος, ώστε να διαπιστώσω πως σε εμένα λειτουργούν απολύτως καθησυχαστικά.

Διαμαρτύρεται ο ήρωας ότι του βάζουν συνεχώς ταμπέλες, μα το ίδιο κάνει κι ο συγγραφέας στον αναγνώστη. Τελικά είναι αναπόφευκτο.

Ωστόσο το απόλαυσα το βιβλίο αυτό, κι ας ήμασταν σε εντελώς διαφορετική διάσταση, από ένα σημείο κι έπειτα.

[Pat · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Non conosceva nulla, né si conosceva; viveva per vivere, e non sapeva di vivere; gli batteva il cuore, e non lo sapeva; respirava, e non lo sapeva; moveva le pàlpebre, e non se n’accorgeva.”

Pirandello inizia a lavorare a Uno nessuno centomila nel 1909. La prima puntata dell’opera uscirà nel 1925 sulla “Fiera letteraria”.

Il dramma di Vitangelo Moscarda comincia quando la moglie fa una considerazione sulla piccola imperfezione del suo naso. Davanti all’immagine riflessa personalità e realtà si frantumano: Vitangelo Moscarda non è, per gli altri, quello che egli si crede. Avvia così un fitto monologo che mette in luce la molteplicità dell’essere.
Ma per Vitangelo, chi è Vitangelo Moscarda? Sinora aveva creduto d’essere uno.

“A chi dire «io»? Che valeva dire «io», se per gli altri aveva un senso e un valore che non potevano mai essere i miei; e per me, così fuori degli altri, l’assumerne uno diventa subito l’orrore di questo vuoto e di questa solitudine?”

Si ribella, Vitangelo. Inizia a compiere azioni che scombinano e rovesciano ogni certezza sul suo apparire. Cerca disperatamente di dimostrare di non essere quello che gli altri credono.

– Pazzo! Pazzo! Pazzo!
Era lo stesso grido di tutta la folla lì davanti la porta:
– Pazzo! Pazzo! Pazzo!
Perché avevo voluto dimostrare, che potevo, anche per gli altri, non essere quello che mi si credeva.

Credeva d’essere uno, scoprì d’essere centomila, decise d’essere nessuno. Scivolò nella follia (follia?) per trovare riparo, salvezza e liberazione, per morire e rinascere ogni giorno, nuovo e completo.



P.S. Camminando ho guardato improvvisamente una vetrina per catturare l’io che non conosco. Pirandello, Pirandello!

Uno, nessuno e centomila. Videoassaggi, un libro in cinque morsi

Libri sul divano dei pigri

[Hulyacln · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Herkes içindeki dünyayı dışarıdaymış gibi, herkese zorla kabul ettirmeye, onu kendisinin gördüğü gibi görmeye zorlamak istiyordu, ona göre, başkaları, bu dünya içinde kendisinin onları gördüğünden başka türlü var olamazdı.’
.
Bir gün eşiniz size kendi bedeninizle ilgili o güne kadar bilmediğiniz bir şey söylese ne yapardınız? Vitangelo Moscarda 28 yaşında ve eşi ona burnunun sağa doğru çarpık olduğunu söyledi. Moscarda düşünmeye başladı, ‘kendimi görüşüm ile başkalarının beni görüşü ne kadar da farklı birbirinden’ Sonra düşüncesi dallandı budaklandı, var olmasının nedenlerini düşündü, babasının ona bıraktığı ismi sorguladı, evlendiği kişiye baktı şöyle bir.. Gerçekten şimdi ne yapacaktı? Biz de onu bekliyoruz, sayfalar birbiri ardına sıralanıyor, Moscarda anlatıyor biz dinliyoruz.
.
Luigi Pirandello ile tanışma kitabımdı Biri Hiçbiri Binlercesi. 1909’da yazmaya başladığı bu kitabı 1925 yılında bitirir ve şöyle der: ‘en acı ve mizah dolu’
Bu söze katılmamak elde değil; çünkü acı da mizah da var bu eserde. Yalnızlık da uyanış da. Başlarda biraz konunun içine dalmakta zorlansam da sevdiğim, karakter çözümlemesini beğendiğim bir kitap oldu. Yazarın diğer eserlerini de okuma isteği uyandırdığı da bir gerçek.
.
Şadan Karadeniz çevirisiyle-

[Davide · Rating 4 out of 5]

[1988]
Partendo da una interessantissima osservazione, cioè che noi siamo diversi per qualunque persona che ci è vicina, Pirandello costruisce una storia di un uomo che tenta di distruggere le immagini che gli altri hanno di lui e viene creduto pazzo. Forse la dimensione di romanzo è troppo ampia per questa narrazione che rischia di diventare noiosa, con troppe ripetizioni; ma Pirandello riesce comunque a mantenere il ritmo fino alla fine.

[K.D. Absolutely · Rating 3 out of 5]

This philosophical book was first published in 1926 and was written by Italian novelist Luigi Pirandello (1867-1936). Pirandello won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1934 ""for his bold and ingenious revival of dramatic and scenic art."

The story is about a man Vitangelo Moscarda who one day, was told my his wife that his nose leans to the right. Moscarda does not notice it before as he thinks that his nose was straight (this image of himself seems to be what "one" means in the title). However, the comment that his nose leans to the right makes him realize that his perception of himself may not necessarily be accurate (the "no one" in the title). Lastly in the story, Moscarda realizes that many people may have their own perceptions about himself - the son of a usurer who used to own a bank (the "one hundred thousand" in the title).

Pirandello's favorite theme of the relativity of perception and the fragmentation of reality into incomprehensible pieces is his philosophical core. Closely connected to it is the reflection on language and the impossibility of objective and satisfactory communication between speakers, due to the fact that we all charge words with our own meanings. As Moscarda obsesses over the painful realization that he is only what others make of him, he tries to subvert others' reality by reinventing himself as a new, different Moscarda. But his attempt to possess his own self is in vain, and his only way out is self-denial, starting with a refusal to look at mirrors.

Overall, this is a nice philosophical book but sometime boring as the plot is so thin and the characters seem to be like distant people no one can identify easily with.

[Sara · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Credete pure che, se qualche dispiacere ha potuto recarvi l'esperienza or ora fatta, quest'è niente, mio caro, perché voi non siete due soltanto, ma chi sa quanti, senza saperlo, e credendovi sempre uno".
Questo è il succo, in realtà. Questo e molto di più.

Ho adorato la prima metà del libro, una bella chiacchierata con qualcuno che ha fatto una scoperta esilarante (per me), una chiacchierata fra amici sulla percezione di noi stessi e degli altri.
Una chiacchierata che finisce con me che non posso fare a meno di sentirmi vuota (e sola): questo ha cambiato molte cose se non tutto, tutte le relazioni sociali, dalla fine di questo libro, sono diverse e hanno un sapore più amaro ma consapevole.

"Ma dove la ferita? In me?
A toccarmi, a strizzarmi le mani, sì, dicevo "io"; ma a chi lo dicevo? e per chi? Ero solo. In tutto il mondo, solo. Per me stesso, solo. E nell'attimo del brivido, che ora mi faceva fremere alle radici dei capelli, sentivo l'eternità e il gelo di questa infinita solitudine".

[Raffaello · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nessuno? Ma come non c'è nessuno in chiesa, Bibì? Ci sta il più rispettabile dei sentimenti umani. Tu non puoi intendere queste cose, perché sei per tua fortuna una cagnolina e non un uomo.
Gli uomini, vedi? Hanno bisogno di fabbricare una casa anche ai loro sentimenti. Non basta a loro averli dentro, nel cuore, i sentimenti: se li vogliono vedere anche fuori, toccarli; e costruiscono loro una casa.
A me era sempre bastato finora averlo dentro, a modo mio, il sentimento di Dio. Per rispetto a quello che ne avevano gli altri, avevo sempre impedito a Bibì di entrare in una chiesa; ma non c'entravo nemmeno io. Mi tenevo il mio sentimento e cercavo di seguirlo stando in piedi, anziché andarmi a inginocchiare nella casa che gli altri gli avevano costruito.

[عبدالرحمن عقاب · Rating 3 out of 5]

عنوانٌ مثيرٌ ولافت. واسم كاتبٍ غريب لا أعرفه. و دار نشرٍ قيّمة الكتب، مميّزةَ الانتاج. يكفي ذلك لإغرائي بتناول الكتاب وتصفّحه.
لكنّ معلومة أنّ الكاتب حاصلٌ على جائزة نوبل في الآداب، تُعطي للكتاب ثقلاً، وأمّا أن يكون قد كتبه في 35 عامًا! فتلك الضربة "التسويقية" القاضية.
الفكرة التي يقوم عليها هذا العمل فكرةٌ بديعة لطالما فكّرتُ بها وأثارت تأمّلاتي منذ زمنٍ بعيد، ومطلع روائيٌ ساحر وذكي. لكنّ الكاتب للأسف أضاع عُمق الفكرة وجمال البداية بالثرثرة والمراوحة في المكان. فلا أشبع الفكرة بحثًا وتوّسعًا، ولا أغناها بأسلوبٍ وأحداث. بل إنّ الكتاب لم يكن روايةً بالمعنى الدقيق. ولعلّ طول المدّة التي كُتب فيها الكتاب هو السبب الكامن وراء هذا الاضطراب والضياع الذي لابس الكتاب.
ختامًا، فقد ورد في حيثيات منح جائزة "نوبل" للكاتب (بيرانديللو) ذكر (قدرته الساحرة على تحويل التحليل النفسي إلى شكلٍ مسرحي إبداعي). وقد كانت "شبه الرواية" هذه محاولةً "موءودةً "لطرح السؤال عن تشكّل "الذات" واتساقها الشخصي والمجتمعي.

[Ana · Rating 4 out of 5]

O início foi auspicioso: muito bem escrito, uma personagem principal a fazer-me lembrar um pouco a d’A Pomba de Süskind, que li há pouco tempo, só que mais divertida (afinal, trata-se de um italiano). Mas lá mais para o meio, os raciocínios tortuosos quase me deram um nó no juízo e estive prestes a desistir. Mas não o fiz, e ainda bem, porque no final, o livro redimiu-se completamente. Acabei de o ler com um sorriso nos lábios e incrédula por ter gostado tanto. E esta, hem?

[Daniele Palma · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lo avessi letto 20 anni fa. Di Pirandello ho letto Il fu Mattia Pascal e già mi era piaciuto ma questo è straordinario, mi ha fatto generare centinaia di pensieri e ricordi come pochi hanno saputo fare.

Intanto un mistico, forse un aviatore
Inventò la commozione
E rimise d'accordo tutti, i belli con i brutti
Con qualche danno per i brutti
Che si videro consegnare
Un pezzo di specchio
Così da potersi guardare
Com'è profondo il mare..."
L. Dalla

Con una canzone in sottofondo che può essere The Passenger di Iggy Pop.

Pirandello mi ha fatto scomodare dalla memoria le mie letture di Nietzsche come pure di Umberto Eco nel Nome della rosa (non restano solo nomi in fondo?)

Cosa dire di una frase così:

La facoltà d’illuderci che la realtà d’oggi sia la sola vera, se da un canto ci sostiene, dall’altro ci precipita in un vuoto senza fine, perché la realtà d’oggi è destinata a scoprircisi illusione domani.

Rientra a pieno titolo tra i miei preferiti.