Orlando furioso

by Ludovico Ariosto, Emilio Bigi (Editor), Cristina Zampese (Editor)

Poema cavalleresco di travolgente intensità narrativa e inimitabile equilibrio formale, l’Orlando furioso ha attraversato ogni epoca e stagione letteraria senza smettere di incantare i propri lettori. Ideale prosecuzione dell’Orlando innamorato, il Furioso porta ai massimi sviluppi la ricca sostanza umana e artistica dell’opera boiardesca: il conflitto tra le forze cristiane e quelle musulmane, l’amore non corrisposto del paladino Orlando per la principessa Angelica, la travagliata unione dinastica tra Ruggiero e Bradamante. Ma nel poema dell’Ariosto gli ideali della società cortese si separano definitivamente dalla realtà, segnata da quell’irrazionale intrico delle passioni che sarà raffigurato nella forsennata giostra dei cavalieri. Una tensione drammatica dietro cui si cela l’amara consapevolezza della crisi dei valori su cui si fondava l’utopia della civiltà umanistica. In questa insuperata edizione a cura di Emilio Bigi, il lettore viene accompagnato attraverso un commento esemplare alla comprensione dell’opera, illuminata nel prezioso intreccio dei rimandi intertestuali e nella dinamica del processo compositivo attraverso le tre edizioni del poema.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Fiction, Fantasy, Italian Literature, Literature, Italy

1620 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1516

About the author

Known Italian writer Ludovico Ariosto, or Lodovico Ariosto first published Orlando Furioso his primary epic comic poem, in 1516.

He best authored the romance. This continuation of Orlando Innamorato of Matteo Maria Boiardo describes the adventures of Charlemagne and the Franks, who battle against the Saracens, with diversions into many side plots. Ariosto composed in the ottava rima scheme and introduced narrator commentary throughout the work.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludovic...

Reviews

[Savasandir · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fantasmagorico

A colui che di fantasy va ghiotto
è offerto questo mio consiglio scaltro:
di gettar gli young adults giù di sotto,
che fotocopia sono l'un dell'altro,
e leggere il Furioso in un sol botto,
di fantasia stracolmo e in più, peraltro,
di fate e negromanti sì ripieno
da risultargli certo molto ameno.
Il testo dell'Ariosto, è ver, è in rima,
ma zeppo d'avventure e assai cruento,
che sembrerà scalar facile cima.
Più arduo apparir puote il suo cimento,
m'al fin de l'epopea chi scrive stima
che massimo sarà il divertimento.
Orsù, cessa di leggiucchiar errando
e corri tosto a prendere l'Orlando!

[J.G. Keely · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perhaps it speaks more to the age I live in than that of the author, but I'm always surprised to find a reasonable, rational mind on the other end of the pen. Though Ariosto's unusual work is full of prejudice and idealism, it is constantly shifting, so that now one side seems right, and now the other.

His use of hyperbole and oxymoron prefigures the great metaphysical poets, and like them, these are tools of his rhetoric and satire. Every knight is 'undefeatable', every woman 'shames all others by her virtue', and it does not escape Ariosto that making all of them remarkable only makes more obvious the fact that none of them are.

Ariosto's style flies on wings, lilting here and there, darting, soaring. He makes extensive use of metafiction, both addressing the audience by means of a semi-fictionalized narrator and by philosophical explorations of the art of poetry itself, and the nature of the poet and his patron.

As with most epics, Ariosto's asides to the greatness of his patron are as jarring as any 30-second spot. His relationship to his various patrons was extremely difficult for him--he was paid a mere pittance and constantly drawn away from his writing to deliver bad news to the pope (if you're thinking that's a bad job, Ariosto would agree--the See nearly had him killed).

This is likely the reason that these moments of praise fall to the same unbelievable hyperbole as the rest. His patrons could hardly be angry at him for constantly praising them, but his readers will surely be able to recognize that his greatest compliments are the most backhanded, and merely serve to throw into stark contrast the hypocrisy of man--tell me a man is great once, and I will believe you, tell me five times, and I'll start to think you're covering for something.

Since we will all be oblivious hypocrites at some point (for most of us, nearly all the time), the only useful defense is finding the humility to admit our flaws. Great men never have it so easy: they cannot accept their mistakes, but must instead be buried by them.

Though Ariosto often lands on the side of the Christians, his Muslims are mighty, honorable, well-spoken, and just as (un)reasonable in their faith. The only thing which seems to separate the two sides is their petty squabbling.

Likewise, he takes a surprisingly liberal view of sex and gender equality, with lady knights who are not only the match for any man, but who need no marriage to make them whole--they are women with or without a man beside them. He even presents homosexuality amongst both sexes, though with a rather light hand.

His epic is not the stalwartly serious sort--like Homer, Virgil, or Dante--Ariosto is a humanist, and has none of the fetters of nationalism or religious idealism to keep him chained. His view of man is a contrary, shifting, absurd thing. The greatest achievements of man are great only in the eyes of man.

By showing both sides of a conflict, by supporting each in turn, Ariosto creates a space for the author to inhabit. He is not tied to some system of beliefs, but to observation, to recognition--not to the ostensible truth of humanity, but to our continuing story.

Ariosto took a great leap from Petrarch's self-awareness: while Petrarch constantly searched and argued in his poems, he found a sublime comfort in the grand unknown. Ariosto is the great iconoclast, not only asking why of the most obvious conflicts, but of the grandest assumptions. The universal mystery is only as sacred as it is profane.

Ariosto is also funny, surprising, and highly imaginative. Though his work is defined by its philosophical view, this view is developed slowly and carefully. It is never stated outright, but is rather the medium of the story: a thin, elegant skein which draws together all characters and conflicts.

The surface of the story itself is a light-hearted, impossible comedy. It is no more impossible than the grand heights of any other epic, but only seems so because it is not girt tightly with high-minded seriousness. Perhaps Ariosto's greatest gift is that he is doing essentially the same thing all the other epic authors do, the same situations and characters, but he makes you laugh to see it.

To be able to look at life simply as it is and laugh is the only freedom we will ever know. It is all wisdom. For this gift, I hail fair Ariosto: the greatest of all epicists, all poets, all writers, all wits, all humanists, all men--never to be surpassed.

[Lizzy · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read Orlando Furioso many years ago, but I still remember the good feeling as I went through Ludovico Ariosto's pages. A fantastic and unusual parody of chivalry.

“Nature made him, and then broke the mold.”

“Ah, how I rue that what I could have done I did not do!”

Highly recommended!
___

[Το Άθχημο γατί του θενιόρ Γκουαναμίρου · Rating 5 out of 5]

This poem is about the siege of Paris by the Mauritanians and the Saracens. Christian King Charlemagne has to confront the African Agramand and his Mauritanian allies, who come from Spain. But this is not the only theme that dominates the poet's narrative.

Love is the greatest force that drives the threads of history. The main characters, and many of the secondary who make their way through the narrative, are in love and have to go through many ordeals in order to gain a moment of happiness. It is an epic dedicated to love.

Ah! false and cruel Fortune! foul despite!
While others triumph, I am drown'd in woe.
And can it be that I such treasure slight?
And can I then my very life forego?
No! let me die; 'twere happiness above
A longer life, if I must cease to love."

( CANTO 1 XLIV)

Ο κεντρικός άξονας του έργου αφορά στην πολιορκία του Παρισιού από τους Μαυριτανούς και τους Σαρακηνούς. Ο χριστιανός βασιλιάς Καρλομάγνος έχει να αντιμετωπίσει τον Αφρικανό Αγκραμάντ και τους Μαυριτανούς συμμάχους του, που έρχονται από την Ισπανία. Δεν είναι όμως αυτό το μόνο θέμα που κυριαρχεί στη διήγηση του ποιητή.

Ο έρωτας είναι η μεγαλύτερη και πανταχού παρούσα δύναμη που κινεί τα νήματα της ιστορίας. Οι βασικοί χαρακτήρες του έργου και πολλοί από τους δευτερεύοντες, που κάνουν το πέρασμά τους μέσα στην αφήγηση, είναι ερωτευμένοι και υποχρεωμένοι να ξεπεράσουν πολλές δοκιμασίες προκειμένου να κερδίζουν μια στιγμή ευτυχίας. Πρόκειται για ένα έπος αφιερωμένο στον έρωτα και είναι ένας ύμνος για τη δύναμη της αγάπης αλλά και για τις πίκρες και τις απογοητεύσεις που αυτή συνεπάγεται.

Μπορεί το έργο να αναφέρει τον ιππότη Ορλάνδο στον τίτλο του, αποτελεί άλλωστε συνέχεια ενός προγενέστερου ποίηματος, το Orlando Innamorato (Ερωτευμένος Ορλάνδος) του Ματτέο Μπογιάρντο (Matteo Boiardo, 1495), και πράγματι εξιστορεί τα γεγονότα που οδήγησαν τον ήρωα στην τρέλα, ωστόσο πάνω από όλες τις διηγήσεις στέκει η εξιστόρηση της αγάπης ανάμεσα στην ωραία χριστιανή ιππότισσα Μπρανταμάντε με τον Σαρακηνό πολεμιστή Ρουτζέρο τους οποίους ο Αριόστο τοποθετεί (μέσα από ένα μυθικό γενεαλογικό δέντρο) ως γενάρχες του προστάτη του, Ιππόλυτου ντ΄Έστε της Φερράρας.

Ο ποιητής έχει να διαχειριστεί και να ενσωματώσει στο έργο ένα τεράστιο υλικό απο τα γαλλικά Chanson de geste (μεσαιωνικά ποιήματα) και από αντίστοιχες διηγήσεις και μύθους του Αρθουριανού Κύκλου. Το καταφέρνει με τρόπο μοναδικό, με μία τεχνική που εξασφαλίζει μια απαράμιλλη ισορροπία που κρατά το ενδιαφέρον του αναγνώστη ζωντανό ως τον τελευταίο στίχο, δεδομένου πως πρόκειται για 46 cantos με τουλάχιστον 100 (συχνά και περισσότερες) στροφές το καθένα, τα οποία ο ποιητής επεξεργαζόταν για πάνω από τριάντα χρόνια:

"Όπως ο καλός μουσικός που αλλάζει συχνά χορδή και ποικίλλει τους ήχους, ψάχνοντας πότε τον βαρύ πότε τον οξύ ήχο, ο Αριόστο εναλλάσσει τους τόνους της αφήγησης, περνώντας εναλλάξ από το ηρωικό στο καθημερινό, από το κωμικό στο ελεγειακό, από το υπεφυσικό στο ρεαλιστικό. Για να φτάσει σε αυτό το αποτέλεσμα, ο συγγραφέας δε διστάζει να διακόψει ένα επεισόδιο για να συνεχίσει ένα προηγούμενο ή να εισαγάγει ένα καινούργιο. Η ελευθερία με την οποία διακόπτει ή επαναλαμβάνει, του επιτρέπει να κρατά την προσοχή του αναγνώστη σε εγρήγορη. Πραγματώνει έτσι μία λεπτή ισορροπία μεταξύ της αφηγηματικής πλοκής και της ρυθμικής αρμονίας".
(Ιστορία της Ευρωπαϊκής Λογοτεχνίας, τ. Α', εκδ. Σοκόλη, σελ. 413)

Η διήγηση του Αριόστο είναι γεμάτη από μυθικά πλάσματα. Ανθρωποφάγα Ορκ, ιππογρύπες, μάγους και μάγισσες, γητεμένες αρματωσιές - πηγές -κάστρα -δαχτυλίδια, αρχαίες θεότητες που συνυπάρχουν παράλληλα με τους αγγέλους και τα πνεύματα της χριστιανικής θρησκείας, τον ευαγγελιστή Ιωάννη, την κόλαση και τον παράδεισο. Όλα αυτά συνδυάζονται με περιπέτειες στα πέρατα του κόσμου (ακόμα και ένα ταξίδι στο φεγγάρι), πολεμικές αναμετρήσεις, ερωτικές συνευρέσεις και στοχασμούς επάνω στη ζωή και τα ανθρώπινα πράγματα.

Το χιούμορ του ποιητή και η ειρωνική του διάθεση αναδεικνύονται με τον ιδανικότερο τρόπο στη μετάφραση του David R. Slavitt. Ο οποίος παραλείπει ολόκληρα cantos ειδικά στο δεύτερο μισό του έργου - στερώντας έτσι από τον αναγνώστη πολλές ενδιαφέρουσες υποδιηγήσεις τις οποίες υποχρεώθηκα να διαβάσω από την παλαιότερη μετάφραση του William Stewart Rose η οποία είναι υπέροχη αλλά παρωχημένη. Η επιτομή ωστόσο του Slavitt διαθέτει μια γλώσσα ολοζώντανη και πολλούς εμβόλιμους σχολιασμούς - ποιητική αδεία του μεταφραστή - που δίνουν μια εξαιρετική φρεσκάδα και επικαιρότητα στο κείμενο, χωρίς να αλλοιώνουν, κατά την άποψή μου, το ιταλικό πρωτότυπο.

Ένας καλός και αγαπημένος μου φίλος και μέγας βιβλιοδίφης, ο Γιώργος Σκαγιάκος (shout-out) με βοήθησε στην αναζήτησή μου για μια ελληνική μετάφραση. Η μοναδική που κυκλοφόρησε ποτέ έως σήμερα στα ελληνικά είναι μια παλαιότατη έκδοση του 19ου αιώνα. Από τους τρεις τόμους μονάχα ο ένας σώζεται ( οι άλλοι άραγε είναι πλέον οριστικά χαμένοι; ) στην πανέμορφη βιβλιοθήκη του Κέντρου Μικρασιατικών Σπουδών, στην Πλάκα. Πρόκειται για μια πεζή μετάφραση του Γεωργίου Δ. Λαμπίση, δημοσιευμένη στα 1852 στην Σμύρνη από τον εκδότη Αντ. Πατρίκιο. Πήγα να δω το βιβλίο, ένα μικρό διαμαντάκι που κράτησα στα χέρια μου με ιδιαίτερη συγκίνηση και μου επέτρεψαν να βγάλω κάποιες φωτογραφίες για να τις μοιραστώ μαζί σας:





Η ανάγνωση αυτού του έργου αποτέλεσε για εμένα μια μοναδική αναγνωστική εμπειρία. Υπήρχαν στιγμές που δυσκολευόμουν να το αφήσω από τα χέρια μου, τόσο μεγάλη ήταν η περιέργειά μου και η αγωνία μου για να δω τί θα γίνει παρακάτω. Αν δεν είχε 46 αλλά 100 cantos είμαι σίγουρη πως και πάλι δεν θα έχανα το ενδιαφέρον μου, καθώς η πένα του Αριόστο είναι μοναδική.

Ένα έργο που αποτέλεσε σταθμό στην ιστορία της παγκόσμιας λογοτεχνίας, που ενέπνευσε πολλούς άλλους σπουδαίους λογοτέχνες από τον Θερβάντες έως τον Μπόρχες, που πετυχαίνει να ενσωματώσει με τρόπο μοναδικό πολλές και διαφορετικές εκδοχές του κόσμου που ζούμε και όλων εκείνων των μαγικών βασιλείων που ακόμα και σήμερα συνεχίζουν να υπάρχουν μέσα στη φαντασία και τις καρδιές των ανθρώπων.

[Davide · Rating 5 out of 5]

[2 novembre 2012]
Appena comprata questa edizione Bur mi dicevo: ma perché in una collezione di classici con nuovi commenti ristampano questo di Emilio Bigi che compie proprio ora trent'anni? Ora che lo sto leggendo capisco il perché.

[5 settembre 2017]
Una delle cose che non sopporto è quando dicono che nel Furioso tutte le vicende dipendono dalla fuga e dall'inseguimento di Angelica. Una parte. Una parte cospicua, se proprio si vuole, ma tutte proprio no! Bisognerebbe buttare via ben più di mezzo poema se fosse vero...

[21 ottobre 2017]
E, a proposito, chi mai si ricorda che l'evento che dà il titolo al tutto non è semplicemente la conseguenza di un amore non ricambiato che si trasforma in pazzia violenta?
Nel canto XXXIV viene chiaramente rivelato invece che si tratta di una punizione divina, perché il campione della «santa fede» si è allontanato dal «camin dritto» con il suo amore peccaminoso per «una pagana».
È proprio la volontà divina, non l'eccesso di sentimento umano (la gelosia e la certezza di quello che è vissuto come un tradimento da parte di Angelica) che conduce Orlando alla sua distruttiva follia:

«E Dio per questo fa ch’egli va folle,
e mostra nudo il ventre, il petto e il fianco;
e l’intelletto sì gli offusca e tolle,
che non può altrui conoscere, e sé manco.»

[12 settembre 2017]
Il lettore dell’Orlando furioso soltanto quando arriva all’ultimo canto del lungo poema, scopre che si è trattato di un viaggio. Per la precisione, di un viaggio per mare, dall’approdo non scontato. La scrittura, secondo lunga tradizione, è una navigazione sull’acqua, per mare; e quindi intrinsecamente pericolosa. Salire su una nave per attraversare le acque significa l’apertura di uno spazio dove il controllo della volontà umana non è assicurato.
Infatti soltanto ad apertura di quest’ultimo canto si capisce che non si è materializzato il rischio di non riuscire a concludere, fatto aleggiare fin dalle primissime ottave del primo canto: canterò le cortesie le audaci imprese … dirò d’Orlando… ecc. ecc. ma solo se colei che mi ha fatto pazzo per amore quasi quanto Orlando stesso mi concederà abbastanza ingegno per permettermi di scrivere.

Il viaggio per acqua come metafora che rappresenta la scrittura viene rivelato però soltanto alla conclusione, nel proemio di questo ultimo canto XLVI (nella prima edizione il XL), che annuncia l’arrivo in porto della nave del poema, nell’accoglienza festosa di donne, cavalieri, poeti e amici.

Or, se mi mostra la mia carta il vero,
non è lontano a discoprirsi il porto;
sì che nel lito i voti scioglier spero
a chi nel mar per tanta via m’ha scorto;
ove, o di non tornar col legno intero
o d’errar sempre, ebbi già il viso smorto.
Ma mi par di veder, ma veggo certo,
veggo la terra, e veggo il lito aperto.

[Alan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not sure about this translation; I read it in Sir John Harington's, 1591, assigned to him by the the First Elizabeth for his witty account of his invention, the water closet or water "jakes": the Metamorphosis of Ajax-pron. a Jakes. (The Elizabethan Brits called a toilet by a French name, whereas the French called it a John. Foreign names to imply the lower life of foreigners.) I've also read maybe 30 pp in Italian, ottava rima in iambic hendecasyllables, not the Latin hendecasyllables Catullus wrote, with three long syllables to start (like the White-throated Sparrow).
Charlemagne sends Rinaldo to England--this French and English melding first done by Boiardo in Orlando Inamorato, which Ariosto's poem extends. Rinaldo was never more unwilling (to follow his orders) but because Charlemagne commanded, he crossed the English Channel from Calesso, Calais.
"Contra la voluntà di ogni nocchiero,
pel gran desir che di tornare avea,
entrò nel mar ch'era turbato e fiero,
e gran procella minaciar parea.
Il Vento sdegnò, che da altiero
sprezzar si vide; e con tempesta rea
sollevò il mar intorno, e con tal rabbia,
che gli mandò a bagnar sino alla gabbia."
Garzanti, 1980, Canto 3 (p.41)
Against the will of any helmsman, who most wanted to turn to port, he left the harbor on a turbulent sea, that a perfect storm menaced. The disdainful wind, that spurned them, haughty with anger, bathed the ship up to the lookout on the mast.
When Rinaldo gets to England, he meets Merlin and a woman magus who tells of his progenitors from Troy down, referring to Ugo, duke of Milan in 1021, who ended the reign of the Insubri there--they a Lepontic people speaking a Celtic language. I'm amused since our English Sheepdog born in Italy and named there, was Ugo. Later in Canto 3, we learn in a footnote that Rinaldo dies "avvelenato," poisoned. Before that, a great survey of feudal history like Frederico Barbarossa and Ezzelino da Romano,
"Ezzelino, immanissimo tiranno,
che sia creduto figlio del demonio,
farà, troncando i sudditi, tal danno,
e distruggendo il bel paese ausonio,
che pietosi apo che lui stati saranno
Mario, Silla, Neron, Caio ed Antonio.
E Frederico imperator secondo
sia per questo Azzo rotto e messo al fondo."(63)

Such a tyrant, called "son of the devil," cutting down his subjects and destroying the beautiful Ausonian lands unworthy successor to by Sulla, Nero, Caligula (!) and Antony.

Ariosto's plot is too complex for me, but I find him often witty (esp in his satires), and his verse more complex than Tasso's, partly because multi-syllable words fitted into the same meter and stanza. So I have not read it all, except in translation.
By the way, Orlando Furioso "ends" with how the story will continue in the next canto, "al'altro canto io parlo." It's unfinished, "only" 21 cantos of a projected 24. Just as Edmund Spenser's Fairie Queene is only half finished, as I recall, six books out of twelve, though Spenser may have even once thought 24, like both Ariosto and Tasso.

But I have read entirely in Italian Ariosto's Satire e Lettere (Einaudi 1976/Ricciardi 1954). This was when I visited his Castello in Garfagnana, over the mountains from Carrara (in the 90s). A foto of me at his Castello features online for those who google Alan Powers (and on my habitableworlds website). Ariosto was the military governor of Garfagnana, which he called "questa fossa," this ditch. It's beautiful, but it was the home of dozens of brigands, outlaws. Ariosto as military commander for the Duke of Ferrara had maybe forty troops, half of them horse--which he points out in a satire (maybe #2, to his brother)--are useless in the mountain rocks. He was also plagued by desertions from his troops, and by the geo-political fact of three contiguous rulers,I seem to recall.
I have always preferred Ariosto's wit to Tasso's seriousness, writing in the same ottava rima later in the same century, 16th. But now in retirement, perusing Gerusalemme Liberata, I'm impressed with Tasso's ease, writing in hendecasyllables. In the third canto, Goffredo tells his troops,
--Già non si deve a te doglia né pianto,
ché se mori nel mondo, in Ciel rinasci...
(p.93, Einaudi 1993)
They should ready for battle unburdened by dying, because if they were to die, they'll be reborn in Heaven. This, good Christian counsel, and incidentally, why Rome began converting to Christianity under Emperor Constantine: the Christian armies fought to the death, not fearing it.

[Jesús De la Jara · Rating 5 out of 5]

"No soy yo, no lo soy? El que parezco:
Orlando ya está muerto y enterrado;
su ingratísima amada lo ha matado,
y faltando a su fe, lo ha sometido.
Yo soy su errante espíritu, que vaga
por este oscuro infierno, atormentado,
para dar con su sombra un escarmiento
a cuantos en Amor ponen su anhelo."

Cuando escuchaba la pregunta de "¿cuál sería la obra que te hubiera gustado a escribir?" nunca me decidía hasta hoy, pues creo que cualquier persona que hubiera escrito aunque sólo sea esta obra daría un gran legado al mundo. "Orlando Furioso" es un sinfín de historias y recursos literarios, de cuentos y de gestas, de amores y de sarcasmos vertidos en un estilo muy depurado y cuidado de tiempos del Renacimiento italiano.
Surgen tantas ideas que es imposible vertirlas en una reseña. Ya me queda con esta obra un panorama más grande de las épicas que he venido leyéndolas desde niño. Si el francés Chrétien de Troyes revivió la leyenda arturiana (inglesa) y la volvió una novela de caballería pues el italiano Ariosto (y antes Boiardo) revivió la leyenda carolingia (francesa) con gran erudición y refinamiento.
La obra debería llamarse desde luego "La Historia de Rugero y Bradamante" pues Orlando (o Roldán) no tiene el centro gravitacional de la historia aunque en realidad es una obra de muchos personajes.
La historia desde luego es una continuación del poema de Boiardo "Orlando enamorado". Continúa la acción donde se quedó, usa los mismos personajes, no altera lo que ha pasado anteriormente al contrario lo usa muy a menudo. Tenemos esta gran gesta entre católicos y paganos, entre imperiales (del Imperio Carolingio francés-austrio-alemán) y sarracenos (el conjunto de musulmanes incluyendo a los españoles). Por el lado de los carolingios están el gran Carlomagno (Carlo), Orlando, Rinaldo, la heroína Bradamante (estoy seguro el personaje favorito de muchos), Olivero, Astolfo (mi caballero favorito), Ricardetto, Brandimarte, Etc. y por el lado sarraceno al rey Agramante, el temible Rodomonte, el español Marsilio, Mandricardo y otro etcétera.
La obra es atrapante, no aburre en casi ningún momento, los sucesos son demasiado diversos tanto en tiempo como en espacio. Cuando empieza la aventura de uno, pasamos a la de otro y así sucesivamente, todo se va hilvanando hasta un final que aunque poco defectuoso a mi gusto es la gran síntesis de la gran aventura que es el "Orlando furioso".
Aunque Angélica, la hermosa pagana que enamora a todos, es el gran imán de la historia como fue en "Orlando enamorado", termina por diluirse bastante en cambio aquí y no me gustó el trato que le dieron. Vemos a los caballeros en diferentes aventuras, típicas de la época, desafiándose en duelos hasta el cansancio, salvando doncellas por doquier, mostrando su gran cortesía y honor en cada paso que van y cruzándose con seres fantásticos, hipogrifos, magos, demonios, gigantes y un largo etcétera. Son varias historias metidas en una sola por la que digo que esta obra bastaría para decir que una persona fue un gran escritor.
Es el retrato de una época influida por múltiples cánones estéticos contemporáneos que fueron muy de mi gusto, de la mitología, del cristianismo, incluso con ecos de la leyenda artúrica, me dio risa particularmente que los españoles y en general las tierras de España son tratadas como paganas pues en esa época eran gobernadas por musulmanes, y pues un gran contraste para la época en que se compuso cuando ya España con Carlos V era la gran potencia que incluso avasallaba a la propia Italia de Ariosto.
Lejos de la historia misma, de los caballeros, de los usos de la época, el vasallaje de los caballeros y el respeto siempre hacia el emperador Carlos a quien debían sus tierras y sus posesiones, las gestas para la cual eran llamados siempre a favor del imperio cristiano está el alma del poeta, de Ariosto. Muchas de sus frases debieron haber sido chocantes o por lo menos controversiales en la época, sobre todo cuando se ve su claro intento por abogar siempre por la situación de las mujeres, el propio Ariosto de manera quizás poética siempre se muestra triste, apresado por el Amor y muchos de sus versos parecen indirectas a la amada ingrata. Ariosto da múltiples opiniones sobre el amor, la infidelidad, el honor, que salpican las aventuras de sus legendarios caballeros. Es una obra pues compleja y muy completa, no sólo son historias fantásticas sino también el sentimiento del poeta y desde luego también busca el ensalzamiento de sus protectores, los grandes señores de la Casa de Este. Ellos son descendientes del héroe Rugero de raíces italianas por ello sin duda copa tanto espacio su historia y de su amada Bradamante destacando aún más que el propio Orlando. Diversos personajes italianos de la época son mencionados y desde luego han despertado mi curiosidad para poder conocer un poco más de ellos.
Un poema épico muy largo pero que vale y mucho la pena. Fue especial además poder leerlo teniendo a la mano otro libro con las ilustraciones de Doré.

[Matthew · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am in love with this book, and I have no idea why everybody isn't reading it all the time. It is a massively fun tale dealing with the exploits of the knights of Charlemagne. It moves incredibly quickly, seamlessly weaves together dozens of terrific stories, and gives the reader all the fulfillment one could wish for in an adventure novel. Lots of battles and intrigue and sorcerers and giants and mistaken identities and flying steeds and magic and all of that good fantasy stuff, and it was written in the 16th century, so you get to enjoy the fact that you're learning a little about the people and ideas of former times and exposing yourself to a classic. Also, the women in this book aren't a bunch of helpless or overly virtuous props for the men. Two of the baddest-ass knights in the story are women who go around saving all of the male characters, and the Saracen princess Angelica, who everybody loves, does a lot of outmanoevering the several knights who are constantly in pursuit of her. Then Orlando goes completely insane from unrequited love and starts all sorts of gruesome wholesale killing while the paladin Astolpho travels to the moon with the Apostle John to fetch back Orlando's lost wits. Then all sorts of other wonderful crazy crap happens, and you should definitely read the book to find out about it. Sir Walter Scott, Voltiare and Byron all compared Ariosto to Homer, favoring the former, and I'd much rather read him than any modern fantasy writer.

(Note on the translation: I'm very pleased that the translator of the Oxford World Classics edition, Guido Waldman, decided to render this book in prose rather than trying to emulate the octava rima scheme of the original epic poem. Perhaps the fact that a prose version has only been available for a couple of decades is what has been responsible for this book's neglect in the English speaking world. Meanwhile, it's a testament to Ariosto's skill that not a single stanza seems to contain an extra line or extraneous detail. I can barely imagine how anybody could write something so tight under the imposition of a poetic schema. I don't think Pushkin or Dante or Chaucer or Virgil was so successful.)

[Marko Vasić · Rating 5 out of 5]

Drugo čitanje - 2024.

Tačno sedam godina je prošlo od prvog čitanja ovog kolosalnog Ariostovog vekovečnog epa koji mi se od tada za srce zalepio i tako je do dana današnjeg, gde stoji odmah pored Dantea.

Sad kad se osvrnem na utiske koje sam zapisao 2017. godine, jasno mi je da u to vreme ja nisam shvatio ni delić ovog dela, budući da niti sam znao išta o Ariostovom životu (što je vrlo važno za nastanak samog epa, njegovu posvetu i brojne likove koji se tu pojavljuju) niti mi je bio jasan koncept koji je Ariosto koristio. Ali, kao što je i sa Danteom bilo – koga takođe u vreme kad sam se prvi put susreo s njim nisam skoro ništa razumeo zbog nezrelosti, ali je Pakao posejao seme koje će mnogo godina kasnije da isklija u pravo, jako drvo – tako se i sa „Besnim Orlandom“ desilo – da je utisak nakon čitanja bio izuzetno jak, ali da nisam baš bio siguran šta sam tačno pročitao niti sam uspeo da razumem tok epa i popamtim sve likove.

Prvi put sam čitao drevni prepev Dragiše Stanojevića iz 1896. koji je, sada to vidim, poprilično slobodno doneo Ariostovu ottava rimu (kao što je i Dantea i Tasa prepevavao), i gdegde mi je konstrukcija stiha u to vreme bila teška i nerazumljiva, te mi je pažnja često vrludala i stoga je i ostao veliki broj rupa u sećanju. Ovoga puta čitao sam „Orlanda“ primarno u hrvatskom prepevu Danka Angjelinovića iz 1953. godine, i kao „pozitivnu kontrolu“ koristio sjajan i hvaljen engleski prepev Barbare Rejnolds, vrsnog dantologa koji je podeljen u dva toma, sadrži obilje objašnjenja, obiman predgovor i brojne dodatne informacije o epu, kao i indeks imena na kraju svake knjige. Naravno, tu i tamo sam povremeno zavirivao i u Dragišin prepev, čisto da vidim koliko im on „beži“ u izrazu. Angjelinovićev se prepev sasvim poklapa sa Rejnoldsinim, ali je nekako sterilan u toj preciznosti u izrazu. Dragišin, ma koliko povremeno „bludeo“ i udaljavao se od originala, ipak donosi toplinu stiha i približava ga čitaocu. Sa sadašnjeg aspekta, ona konstrukcija njegovog stiha mi je bila samo jedno oduševljenje više.

Što se samog epa tiče – ja, posle Dantea, nisam pročitao ništa sadržajnije i sočnije od „Besnog Orlanda“. Za razliku od Komedije, koja je čitava u alegorijama, „Orlando“ je sušta suprotnost – Ariostov izraz je jednostavan, često satiričan i humorističan. Međutim, kada peva o bitkama, oružju i oklopima, ton postaje uzvišen i svečan, ali nikada ne poseže za alegorijom da bi nešto opisao. Nekoliko puta koristi metaforu poput Ovidija u Metamorfozama kada personifikuje Neslogu, Tišinu, Lenjost ili Prevaru koje arhangel Mihajlo treba da na bojnom polju zauzda, ali to je daleko od Danteovog izraza.

Kako u prvoj strofi prvog pevanja Ariosto kaže: „Ljubavi, gospe, borbe, vitezove, skladnosti pjevam i junačke zgode“ – toga će se držati svih 46 pevanja. Kao što će, kasnije i Spenser u svom ništa manje obimnom, ali nezavršenom, epu The Faerie Queene koga pokušavam da „osvojim“, po uzoru na Ariosta da na isti način organizuje radnju, tako je i kod Ariosta radnja raspršena i ispresecana brojnim digresijama, poukama i pohvalama, te ne treba očekivati da će se nit jednog junaka pratiti od početka do kraja pevanja već Ariosto u samom piku kulminacije radnju prekida i prelazi na drugu epizodu, često u okviru istog pevanja, tako da se slike i scene smenjuju jako brzo što ponekad ume da bude zamorno i obori koncentraciju, naročito jer se radnja odvija na nekoliko kontinenata i zemalja u isto vreme. U jednom pevanju radnja se odigrava čak i u Srbiji, u Beogradu, kada Ruđero ide kao ispomoć Bugarima da pobedi Grke i grčkog kralja Konstantina čiji sin Leon mu je „oteo“ Bradamantu koja mu se obećala. Međutim, ako se hvataju beleške, jako se lako može uhvatiti i nit izdvojenih epizoda koje se protežu kroz nekoliko pevanja. Kao što je Spenser u Ariostu imao inspiraciju, tako je i potonji bio inspirisan pređašnjim Bojardovim epom Orlando Innamorato i Taso će u jednom osvrtu da kaže kako je „Furioso“ neodvojivi nastavak „Innamorata“ i da su deo jedne velike celine. Ariosto nastavlja tamo gde Bojardo staje, tako da su likovi uvedeni bez ikakvog objašnjenja, jer je čitalištu onoga vremena itekako bio poznat Bojardov ep.

Orlando je kroz veći deo epa tek epizodna uloga i tek u XXIII pevanju otkriva njegovu mahnitost i njen razlog – da pati zbog Anđelike koju još u prvom pevanju predstavlja. Međutim, glavniji nosilac radnje jeste drugi ljubavni par – Ruđero i Bradamanta, o kojima mnogo više peva i čije sudbine čitalac mnogo bolje upoznaje. Srž epa jeste sukob Muslimana i Hrišćana, gde se sukobljavaju vojske Karla Velikog (sa hrišćanske strane) i saracenskog kralja Agramanta. Drugi par jesu Izabela i škotski paladin Zerbino. Treći Anđelika i Medoro, zbog kojih Orlando poludi.

Mitologije u epu nema. Ali obiluje fantastičnim elementima i fantastičnim bićima i aluzijama na druga velika dela kao što su Ovidijeve Metamorfoze, Danteova Komedija i Vergilijeva Eneida. Junaci spasavaju dame od nemani, imaju čarobo oružje i oklope, služe se napicima i putuju uz pomoć magije a pomažu im, naravno, čarobnice i magovi – pre svih Melisa, Merlinova sestra i Logistila, a sa suprotne, tamne strane, osporavaju ih Alćina i Atlant, čiji se duh u jednom momentu epa iskupljuje za zlodela jednim dobrim delom.

Meni omiljeni lik jeste engleski paladin Astolfo, Orlandov i Rinaldov rođak, koga Ruđero pronalazi da je pretvoren u drvo i nakon peripetija sa čarobnicom Alćinom, vraća mu ljudski lik. Astolfova pojava u pevanju znači da će biti dosta fantastičnih momenata jer su njemu magusi i čarobnice vrlo nastrojeni, tako da će proći bezbroj peripetija jašući na hipogrifu, da će u jednom momentu zaći čak i u predvorje pakla, jureći harpije, i odleteti na mesec sa Svetim Jovanom.

Kraj epa mi je potpuni omaž Vergiliju jer se na isti način završava kao i Eneida. Sad, nakon drugog čitanja, moji utisci su još izraženiji nego pre sedam godina, naročito jer sada poznajem sasvim dovoljno i Ariostovu biografiju ali i jasan mi je koncept epa i tvorba epizoda, tako da mi predstoji da u narednim danima sa oduševljenjem ponovo prolazim kroz obeležena pevanja i prizivam neke od omiljenih epizoda.

____________________________________


Prvo čitanje - 2017.

Bezmalo mesec dana bistrim ovih hiljadu i nešto strana, koliko ih ukupno ima kada se sumiraju sva četiri dela ovog epa. Malo je reći da sam oduševljen. Štaviše, likovi o kojima Ariosto poje su mi postali opsesija - da beležim i ponovo čitam segmente epa u kojima se zbiva nešto što mi je bilo interesantno. Već nakon pročitanog prvog pevanja sam uvideo da će mi, uz Danteovu Božanstvenu komediju, ep o Besnom Orlandu biti sledeće omiljeno delo srednjovekovne književnosti. Prepev dr Dragiše Stanojevića, iako potiče iz 1895., svež je, savremen, didaktičan i razumljiv mnogo više nego današnji bljuzgavi i nepismeni prevodi bez recenzija. Takođe, objašnjena i komentari koje je prevodilac dao uz stihove su od velike pomoći u razumevanju i tumačenju određenih delova. Nezaobilazan i nerazdvojiv deo u toku čitanja, bio je i atlas ilustracija Gistava Dorea - Doré's Illustrations for Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso": A Selection of 208 Illustrations, fenomenalnog umetnika, koga sam zavoleo pre više godina, oduševivši se njegovim ilustracijama Danteovog Pakla. Tako je svojim ilustracijama i sada doprineo da još više uživam u scenama iz Ariostovog epa. Ovo delo vredi čitati bar jednom godišnje, kao što običavam i sa Danteom, i uvek, iznova uživam u redovima tih bezvremenih epova koji nikad neće da mi dosade.

[Mark · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I told you that you should read an early sixteenth century Italian verse epic whose primary themes are courtly love and chivalry, would you do it? What if I told you there's a new translation which abridges the massive original to a mere 700 pages? Too good to be true?

I know what you're thinking: uh, yawn, cough, cough, maybe I'll get to that when I can't use my legs any more. Thanks anyway.

But what if I told you it's one of the funniest, most rollicking adventures ever written, with astounding feats of derring-do and psychological insights so sly and accurate that you can only marvel at them? What if I told you that the breezy tone and author's wit make you feel like you're in the company of an ideal fantasy Renaissance court, enjoying the best that Italy has ever had to offer?

Well, I am telling you.

The translator's obvious joy in the humor comes through in the elasticity of the meter, which he's ready and willing to sacrifice whenever a just-right but too-long or too-short English word perfectly expresses a joke. Sometimes serious but never earnest, this adventure is both a celebration and a send-up of courtly traditions, and it can be read in long sittings or stolen moments with equal enjoyment.

What are you waiting for?

[Jo Walton]

I read this version after giving up on two different verse translations.

So Orlando Furioso is a very strange thing. It's a sequel to a book called Orlando Inamorata, by Tasso, and it has one of the horrible flaws of fanfic that it assumes you're already deeply invested in these characters, and that when it is revealed to you that (gasp) the character is Rinaldo in disguise, you'll be all excited. And this would be a real payoff for somebody who cares about Rinaldo, but if you've started reading here and you barely know who he is, well, it's just confusing. So it starts in media res, and not only that but it has many many characters and it doesn't stay with any character for very long. If you think late volumes of Robert Jordan are bad, they're nothing to Orlando Furioso.

Ariosto was a Renaissance poet, a client of the D'Este family. This is important and kind of hilarious, because although this poem is set at the time of Charlemagne, he keeps on dragging the D'Estes into everything. There's even one point where some characters have the tent of Hector, from Troy, embroidered by Cassandra with designs showing -- the life of Cardinal Ippolito D'Este. I laughed out loud.

Having said this, the reason I gave this book a third try and persevered past the points where I'd given up before, was because Beatrice and Isabella D'Este wrote about it in their letters, and were at one point seeking champions to fight a duel about whether Rinaldo or Ruggiero was better. (I'm sorry to say I agree with Isabella, Ruggiero all the way.) But Voltaire was insane to say that the bit with Armida and Rinaldo is better than the bit of the Odyssey with Circe. I love Voltaire, and I'd defend to the death his right to make this ridiculous claim, but he's absolutely and utterly wrong about this.

There are a lot of characters. Most of them are paladins. Some of them are Saracen paladins. Some are Europeans. Some of the Saracens are good guys. Religion isn't actually very significant compared to important things like who has what sword and what device on their shield. Two of the paladins are women, Marfisa and Bradamant. There are also damsels, most memorably Isabel and Angelica. There's a hippogriff. There are magic weapons, lots of prophets, sorcerers and sorceresses, and trips to hell and heaven. What you have to do is keep reading, even if it is no fun, and about half way through people will start to meet up again and everything will make more sense, and it will become enjoyable. I genuinely enjoyed reading the second half, but the first half was grim determination not to let this thing defeat me again, and a desire to see what the heck it was that got everyone so excited about it.

I think it's impossible to see that, reading it in translation, because I think a lot of what is so great about it is the actual Italian poetry.

It's very easy to describe Orlando Furioso in a way that makes it seem hilarious, and either much better or much worse than it is.

For instance. my absolute favourite bit is a venture into allegory where St Michael literally beats up Discord, who he finds wasting her time in a monastery instead of in the Saracen camp where he sent her. There's also a hilarious bit where a princess falls in love with Bradamant, who is disguised as a man. Bradamant has to reveal her gender to get away. The princess is very sad. Then Bradamant meets her identical twin brother (yes I know), who disguises himself as Bradamant (disguise is very easy for everyone, because it consists of changing the device on your shield) and goes back to the princess, saying "I met a fairy in the wood and look what she gave me!" (It was definitely an influence on Spencer's Faerie Queen.)

Orlando Furioso has no real plot, no consistent worldbuilding, and only very sketchy characters. I did come to care about the characters, even if I spent most of the book saying "Astolfo is the one with the magic horn, right?" "Maugis, huh, have I seen him before?" Some of it is definitely funny, and it's undoubtedly full of incident. In the end, I'm glad I've read it -- not just glad I've finished it, though I am that, but glad I've read it.

[Wreade1872 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reread:
Rereading, this time with the free complete verse translation by A.S.Kline from PoetryinTranslation although i actually purchased a hardcopy. Two inches thick, A4 sized with, over 600 Doré engravings, fantastic.

Dividing the reread into 4.

First Quarter:
This is very different from Innamorato, the latter being much more fun and over the top. This is distinctly more grounded and harsher in places. I’m not sure which i prefer now.

Second Quarter:
Still good but a lot of different tales weaved together. There's one really messed up Doré engraving where orlando, (before his frenzy) cuts up all these people aswell as chopping a horse in half and decapitating a dog and making like a human centipede of headless people, so crazy. And now the frenzy begins where orlando turns into the hulk pretty much.

Third Quarter:
...yeah there's a lot of messing about filling time and doing the equivalent of advertising. The characterization in Innamorato and the early parts of this i have to feel was more interesting.

Final Quarter:
...Reread complete, yeah not as good second time, my god so much advertising or nationalistic propaganda. Orlando is relegated to background in favour of the italian insert character Ruggiero.

**************************
First Read:
I read the 1831 verse translation by William Stewart Rose. However there are a small number of pieces missing in that translation which i filled in using the 1591 translation by John Harrington.

Epic italian poem, featuring knights, damsels, magic and the occasional monster. Its not so much a single story as an entire library of them all mixed together. Set against the backdrop of the Moors invading France. This gives the work a lot more cohesion than other epics like the Faerie Queene.
The author does a pretty good job of reminding you who's who and whats been happening, whenever he switches characters. This helps a lot and i wasn't often confused about which character was which.
The best thing about this is the moral greyness of it all. It really is almost 'Game of Thrones' in places. Heroes lie, make bad deals to save their own skin, kill hundreds of soldiers or farmers, and in one intance tried to rape some woman who they just rescued.
I do have to say it has a LOT less attempted sexual assaults than the Faerie Queene, but a lot more consensual sex. It also has less monsters and magical creatures than than Spenser's work but i like that, it means that when things do get strange it has more of an impact.
A few of minor issues, one is the lists of famous people rammed in to the work here and there, these are only of interest to people of the day or historical scholars, but are easily skippable.
The other thing that can annoy is the structure, most of the switches between character are fine but occasionally it happens at an exciting moment and instead of hearing what happens next your forced to get through a completely unrelated plot before getting back to the action.
Also this is a direct sequel to the unfinished 'Orlando Innamorata' and while the version i read contained a quick summary of events from that work i still felt confused at the start and on occasions when it refers back to previous events from Innamorata.
Overall despite not being able to read it in its native language, its REALLY good. There's just so much in here and some of it is just the right amount of morally gray for a modern audience to appreciate. Oh and there's some kick ass females in here aswell.

[Debbie Zapata · Rating 2 out of 5]

A few years ago when I read Irving Stone's amazing work The Agony And The Ecstasy about the life of Michelangelo, the poet Ludovico Ariosto was mentioned somewhere as being a dinner guest of the Pope of the day. With my typical curiosity, I wondered if Ariosto was a real person (he was); what did he write (Orlando Furioso, for one); and could I find a copy of the work at my favorite online library Project Gutenberg (yep!!).

It took a few years to get to to the top of my Someday List, but I did finally start reading Orlando and at first I was completely enchanted with it. Knights in shining armor, damsels in distress, monsters, magic rings, swords with names, horses with personality, plenty of wizards both evil and good, lots of action. It was all very exciting and nearly always readable.

Allow me to quote from the wiki article about this poet ~~
The poem, a continuation of Matteo Maria Boiardo's Orlando Innamorato, describes the adventures of Charlemagne, Orlando, and the Franks as they battle against the Saracens with diversions into many sideplots. Ariosto composed the poem in the ottava rima rhyme scheme and introduced narrative commentary throughout the work.
Ariosto also coined the term "humanism" (in Italian, umanesimo) for choosing to focus upon the strengths and potential of humanity, rather than only upon its role as subordinate to God. This led to Renaissance humanism.

Before I began Furioso, I read what I could find about Boiardo's poem, so I knew a little bit what to expect. That 'ottava rima rhyme scheme' meant that each stanxa had eight lines, with a specific rhyming pattern that was easy to read and never fell into that horrid thumpety thump sound that many poems force me into. Here is an example:
To good Rogero here was brought a steed,
Puissant and nimble, all of sorel hue;
Who was caparisoned with costly weed,
Broidered with gold, and jewels bright to view.
That other winged horse, which, at his need,
Obedient to the Moorish wizard flew,
The friendly damsels to a youth consigned,
Who led him at a slower pace behind.

Orlando Innamorato was left unfinished at the time of Boiardo's death in 1494. Furioso was published in 1516, and translated for this edition by William Stewart Rose, who worked on the epic project from 1823 to 1831. So there were lots of interesting archaic words to look up, like that puissant. which turned out to mean powerful. My dictionary website and I became very good friends while I was reading this poem!

Now for the 'but'. Even though I was at first captivated and interested and couldn't wait to find out what happened to our many various heroes, there were a few things that finally defeated me completely. All those 'sideplots', for one thing. We would just get to the decisive moment in this or that fight and Ariosto would say 'Oh, but now we must leave so-and-so and go witness what became of whosit, remember we left him doing thus and so'. By Canto 19 (of nearly 50) I was so lost I could barely remember who was so-and-so and who was whosit.

And at some point I realized that Orlando himself had not been mentioned in ages. The sideplots triggered other sideplots, and every damsel in distress had to tell her tale of woe to whichever knight found her, which meant more sideplots. There were several times when Ariosto commented that he hoped he would be able to take up all the different threads of his tale and tie them off properly. If the poet himself worries about such a thing, how can the reader expect to be able to follow anything?!

Well, I finished 18 cantos and my notes show that I was still fascinated, except that I was beginning to wonder about Orlando, and I had to skim a bunch of stanzas that sung the praises of the poet's patron's ancestors. He wove this type of thing into the story many times, but I was getting tired of that by this point. I had also begun to skim or skip the first few stanzas of each Canto, where Ariosto would speak directly to his patron before getting back to the story. I think I would have detested being a poet or artist in the Renaissance period. Without a powerful patron they could do nothing, and yet with the patron they had to glorify egos rather than be as creative as they might have wanted to be.

So annoyance was already settling in, and then came The Break. I probably should not have started reading this work just one week before our yearly five day trip to Teotihuacan. I knew it was a long piece and that I would not be able to finish it before we left, but I did not expect to come home with absolutely no more interest in the poem at all. I tried to get back into it, but it was impossible. I may try again someday: the remaining dozens of cantos and their hundreds of stanzas will always be readily available at Gutenberg, after all. But for now, I have to give up on our hero Orlando and leave him Furioso, never knowing if he ever managed to be Innamorato again.


(I wavered between 2 and 3 stars. I did like many parts of this, but overall for me it was just okay, when I think carefully about it all. Maybe Someday when (if) I can actually finish the rest of the poem, the rating will change.)

[Joseph · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow, that was ... long. Good, but long. And featuring surprisingly little of Mad Roland, all things considered.

So this was an English prose translation (from 1973) of an Italian epic poem by Ludovico Ariosto that's almost exactly 500 years old -- first published in 1516 although, like George Lucas, Ariosto kept tinkering with it over the years until his death.

Basically, this was a chivalric romance -- set hundreds of years prior to its writing, featuring an assortment of historical and not-so-historical characters who put on armor, wandered around the countryside, and bashed away at each other with swords and spears. There was a cast of almost literally thousands, not least of whom was Orlando himself (who does, in fact, lose his wits at one point, and spends large amounts of time, on- and off-screen, wandering around the countryside naked and gibbering, and bashing poor shepherds on the head with rocks so he can take their horses).

The basic conflict is between the Christian knights of Charlemagne and the Saracen invaders of France; but this is one of those kinds of stories where, as far as can be told, almost everyone wears the same kind of armor, rides to joust, and has various Italianate names like Clariel and Ruggiero. Which, to be honest, occasionally makes it hard to keep track of exactly which character is on which side at any given point, especially given the knights' tendency, upon seeing any other knight, to immediately issue challenge just for the hell of it.

But there are some truly memorable characters in the mix, including a couple of Brienne-of-Tarth-like women -- Bradamant and Marfisa -- who also strap on armor and bash away with swords and spears. Plus more than your fair share of wizards and sorceresses and the like.

The narrative kind of bounces from character to character as the whim takes Ariosto, and/or for dramatic purpose -- each canto (chapter) begins with a bit where Ariosto is directly addressing his patron (often, unsurprisingly, in flattering terms) and explaining why we have to leave Rinaldo on the bridge in peril of his life (n.b. I don't remember whether Rinaldo was ever actually in peril on a bridge; but all three of those elements -- Rinaldo, peril, bridge -- definitely did appear in the poem at one point or another, even if not in combination) to instead shift our attention to the fair Angelica, princess of far Cathay. (Remember what I said about everyone having vaguely Italianate names?)

So there's romance and chivalry and quests and peril, and enchanted swords and armor, and at least one hippogryff and a flight to the Moon.

[Geoff]

My brother got me a hardcover 1st of the new translation of the Furioso for Xmas - hell yes bro!

[Bbrown · Rating 4 out of 5]

Why is this epic not better known? Sure, there are ample academic texts written about it, its importance to later literature is widely acknowledged, and I've read more than one reference to it in the works of other great authors, but the vast majority of readers have never even heard of Orlando Furioso. Though originally published less than fifty years after Mallory's Le Morte D'Arthur, Orlando Furioso is not nearly as well-known or as widely read, which is a shame because it's a far better book. Orlando Furioso is filled with interesting aspects, for instance it reframes and retells numerous stories from the Greek epics, it delivers progressive morality lessons through stories (better than The Canterbury Tales ever does), and it features a narrator/author that interacts with the story in fascinating ways. More important than any of those things, though, it's actually very fun to read. Its episodic structure, combined with its extensive cast of characters and multiple divergent story threads, means that you have to put more time and effort into this book than the length may suggest, and that's my best bet for what has kept it from being more popular among mainstream readers (and what holds it back from being a five star book for me). Though the structural flaws may detract from it, Orlando Furioso does so many things well, and is so interesting and enjoyable overall, that I highly recommend it.

Though titled Orlando Furioso, the madness of Orlando is actually not significant compared to the two main plot threads of 1) female knight Bradamant's romance with the knight Ruggiero, and 2) the war over Paris between Charlemagne's Christian forces and the invading Muslims led by African king Agramant. Orlando is, however, acknowledged as the mightiest of knights in the realm, and Orlando Furioso is a pretty great title, so it makes sense as the epic's name. These three main plot threads solidify the central themes of this epic as love and chivalric warfare, and Ariosto emphasizes both with the narrative's other aspects: the journeys of the many characters in this epic are replete with chivalric deeds, stories about love and faithfulness, and fierce battles. I would say that, though this is not the definitive text on the code of chivalry and the actions taken thereunder, it's still the most interesting book I've read that tackles the subject. It's the aforementioned stories about love and faithfulness and the fierce battles where this text shines, though. The stories of love and faithfulness are designed, naturally, to impart lessons on the characters and the reader about these subjects, and what is striking is how progressive these lessons are. Unfaithful women are degraded, but so are the men that are obsessed with the faithfulness of their wives or are foolish enough to put it to the test. At one point the text reads:

If the same ardour, the same urge drives both sexes to love's gentle fulfilment, which to the mindless commoner seems so grave an excess, why is the woman to be punished or blamed for doing with one or several men the very thing a man does with as many women as he will, and receives not punishment but praise for it?

This would have been a progressive stance for a book to take a hundred years ago, and Orlando Furioso is now over five hundred years old. This is not to say that everything is aligned with our modern sensibilities, for instance even our heroes are occasionally overcome with the urge to rape a beautiful women, but these instances are rare, all things considered. It is fascinating to read Ariosto give such similar weight to women as compared to men, both as characters and in the lessons of the text, in an epic from so long ago, and it makes the book seem fresh and relevant in a way that few works from this historical period (or morality lessons in general) do.

The battles of Orlando Furioso likewise impress in a way rare among epics. In the Iliad, more often than not it seemed that a thrown spear pierced the nipple area of an enemy, or that a blow splattered the brains of an enemy, so the fighting often seemed repetitive. In Romance of the Three Kingdoms, enemies clash in nondescript ways until a bombard sounds with mind-numbing frequency. Compare that to Orlando Furioso, where the violence that makes up a significant portion of the book is characterized by both its variety and inventiveness. Enemy knights get cut in half in battle, stabbed in the forehead, thrown over (as opposed to from atop) walls and crushed on impact, multiple enemies get shish-kebabed on lances, and more. Bloody battles are, unavoidably, a significant part of war epics, and all too often the fighting itself goes on for pages but is not at all interesting. Orlando Furioso keeps these scenes from getting repetitive, so that such sections do not drag, and in fact are sometimes quite enjoyable.

Orlando Furioso has other interesting aspects as well, that are not strictly necessary for a narrative of this type, but the addition of them enhances the book. The narrative takes various famous scenes from Greek epics and mythology and reframes them as part of this chivalric tale, so one page you are reading about a knight crossing the countryside and the next you recognize that the text has shifted to retelling the story of Ulysses and the cyclops, or Perseus fighting Cetus, or the island of Circe, or a reimagined Orpheus and Eurydice. I expect that Ariosto included these tales to link the chivalric age with the golden age of civilization, and to thereby compare the heroes of Orlando Furioso to the greatest mythical heroes. For a modern reader, it's interesting to identify what sources Ariosto is drawing from on any given page. Ariosto himself leads to another interesting aspect of the text, namely a narrator that plays a far more significant role in the narrative than you would expect. Some of this is boilerplate for epics, with Ariosto introducing the text, lavishing praise on his benefactors, etc. But Ariosto also comments on the actions and lessons of the story more frequently than a narrator typically does, refers you to other texts for further information on a given topic, pines for his own love, tells you when a canto can be skipped without detriment to the overall story, and essentially takes a victory lap in the final canto of the epic (naming all his worthy friends and the beautiful women of the court). Ariosto thereby becomes a character in his own right, and the text is more interesting for it.

In addition to the engaging war segments, the progressive love lessons, and the transformed classic myths, the original episodes in the book are likewise interesting, and the characters (though not drawn with much depth, as the code of chivalry makes them all a bit one-note) are likable enough that you care about the book's central romance and Orlando's madness. All of this together makes Orlando Furioso not only interesting, but a largely enjoyable read.

It is not without flaws, however, namely structural flaws, though I understand that a part of this is a historical artifact that I don't think Ariosto deserves much blame for. This artifact is the episodic nature of the text, with many of this book's cantos serving as stories largely independent from the main narrative, where a certain character defeats a wrongdoer or gains a magical item or some such thing. Often these individual stories push forward one of the main themes or lessons of the book, but they nevertheless feel divorced, to a certain degree, from the main narrative. The envoy from the queen of Iceland and the three Scandinavian kings escorting a golden shield, staying in a castle where only one group of knights or maidens can rest at a time and then must fight/have a beauty contest with the next group to arrive, who are challenged by Bradamant, makes for an entertaining vignette on its own, but it does nothing to push forward any of the main plot threads. In an era where an epic like this was written to be told to an audience, and likewise in a piecemeal fashion, however, this episodic structure was likely a benefit and not a detriment. I have a pair of married friends who read aloud to each other most nights, and that might well have been the perfect way to consume this epic when it was originally published, a leisurely reading of one canto per night for a month and a half.

I think that such a method of consumption does not work nearly as well nowadays because of the other structural flaw of Orlando Furioso, the vast cast of important characters. To understand the action of this book you absolutely have to keep track of what Orlando, Rinaldo, Angelica, Bradamant, Ruggiero, Astolfo, Charlemagne, and Agramant are doing. You should also probably be keeping track of what Marfisa, Brandimart, Rodomont, Mandricard, Grifon the White, Aquilant the Black, and Zerbin are doing. The sorcerers of the story are also important, popping up at various times, so you have to remember who Atlas, Melissa, Alcina, and Maugis are. Also, many of the most important knights have named steeds and swords (not to mention armor of different levels of enchantment) that are frequently exchanged, lost, or fought over, so you need to keep rough track of who has what (though the text will almost always remind you about these things). Also, many of the characters are related in various ways, which sometimes becomes important. All this, and I'm still leaving off literally a good twenty characters that are of significant, or even key importance to multiple cantos of this book. With some characters disappearing for upwards of a hundred pages, with the key characters rarely (never?) all in the same place at the same time, and with various plot threads happening in tandem that at times interconnect and that the narrative skips between, the annotated index of the Oxford World's Classics edition of Orlando Furioso is more than useful, it's almost a necessity. Perhaps when it was written, these character were ones that everyone was at least vaguely familiar with, so that the audience could keep track more easily than I could. I don't have that background though, so I found myself having to look up who a character was with some frequency.

Either of these problems individually would be relatively minor, but they are magnified because they work to frustrate whichever way you're trying to read this book. Taking it slow? Then the episodic nature isn't a problem, but you'll struggle even more than I did to remember who all the characters are, especially if it has been weeks since you read about Astolfo flying on his hippogryph. Reading straight through? Then you'll have a better time of keeping the players and their equipment and relationships straight, but you will have to deal with many cantos that feel like filler. Entertaining filler, but filler nonetheless. A book this entertaining and interesting should have been easier to read than it was, but the structure hampered my enjoyment. In bygone days this may well have been less of a problem, but I can only judge by my own standards.

Nevertheless, the good aspects far outweigh the frustrating ones in Orlando Furioso. This is a chivalric epic done right, a war epic done right, a book of love lessons done right, a classic love story done right. I've written so much here and I've only scratched the surface: I haven't even mentioned that at one point a character teams up with Saint John and travels to the moon to search the palace that holds all things lost on Earth. This is an imperfect, but great book, and you should read it.

[Markus · Rating 4 out of 5]

Roland Furious
Ludovico Ariosto, called L’Arioste (1474-1533)

‘Orlando Furioso’ is an Italian romantic epic by Ludovico Ariosto.

The work can be seen as the summary of all chivalry literature since its early existence in the middle ages to the Renaissance.

The primary and real subject of Ariosto’s work is the sublimation of The Codes of honour of the errant knight:

His deep religious Christian belief, unquestioned loyalty to the King, bravery in battle for fame and glory, never-ending faith and loyalty to a friend; to serve and save any lady in distress.

Many heroes are known to the reader familiar with medieval chivalry sagas,
King Arthur and his knights; Don Quixote, Knights of the Crusades; Marlin and many others.

Ariosto takes us into a magical universe situated at a time of feudal kingdoms.
Adventurous encounters, duels and battles, interwoven with courtly love stories take place without interruption.

Our author is not following any historical or geographical accuracy;
The poem wanders from Brittany to Paris, to India, to Egypt, to Persia, to Africa and other places.

He includes many fantastical creatures, dragons, sea monsters, giants and dwarfs;
We observe magical events, such as a trip to the moon, to the Christian Paradise and the deep underground hell.
We see angels and devils influence the human sinners; fairies and magicians use their tricks to help their favourites.
Some of the knights have magical powers with invincible armoury and weapons and even horses of alien features.

Ariosto’s style is friendly and humorous, conversational, exuberant, transparent, and a pleasure to read.

[Roman Clodia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Written in 1532, Orlando Furioso is a wonderful Italian Renaissance chivalric romance, taking inspiration from the Arthurian cycle as well as classical Greek and Roman epic and romance (Homer, Vergil, Apuleius etc.), but which is uniquely itself. Set vaguely during the time of Charlemagne and the Saracen invasion of France, it really inhabits a mythic world full of errant knights, distressed damsels, wicked enchanters, marauding monsters and not a few female knights who are quite capable of being the rescuers rather than the rescued.

Itself an inspiration for Spenser's The Faerie Queene, this is crucially central to European literature, spanning a variety of genres.

Some reviewers have hated the prose translation, but personally I prefer it to the Penguin verse translation which feels quite contrived to me. Rich, witty, exciting, moving and absolutely never dull, this is a wonderful and very accessible read.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

Classic of world literature. Renaissance Proto-feminism, dizzying irony, labyrinths of interwoven parallel plotting, and very funny: what more could you want from a this ponderous multi-volume work of an iconoclastic poetic genius? Here one sees the beginning of the breakdown of the rigid classical literary norms: e.g. the poet breaks into the narrative to cast aspersions on the supposed chastity of the beautiful princess who all the knights fall in love with: "Forse era ver, ma non pero' credibile". Ariosto could be speaking of his work, which like the princess, has a beautiful face that masks (stylistic) impurity, but is much the better creation as a result. It is a work of powerful imagination and memorable images.

[Czarny Pies · Rating 5 out of 5]

Let me confess: I read the French prose translation not the Italian verse original I am thus unable to comment on the poetic qualities of the Italian. What I was able to comprehend convinced me that this is an extraordinary adventure tale from the Renaissance and with a very modern perspective on many issues that we are still grappling with today.

If you have the good fortune to be taking this work on a university course, you should obviously concentrate on the interpretation that your professor presents. The naive reaction of a modern reader is sure to be misleading on several issues.

This works belongs to the Renaissance not the Middle Ages. The author is constantly referring to recent events that will change the ways of the world in the future. The invention of muskets will make wars more destructive. The Portuguese by finding a sea route to India will end Italy's position of dominance in European commerce. The discovery of America will make Western Europe richer and more important relative to Italy.

Arioste also argues for a changing view of woman. He gives us two very strong woman warriors as leading characters in his novel and then argues that male writers out of jealousy have always tried to conceal the quality of women as warriors. All in all, Arioste shows us a world where ideas, values and social structures are in a state of constant evolution.

A young reader encountering this work early in his or her undergraduate career would find this book a great transitional link between contemporary juvenile culture and classical literature. The central drama involves a Muslim named Roger who converts to Christianity so that he can marry the great female warrior Bradamente. This is something like Han Solo in Star Wars abandoning his life of crime to fight with the bright side of the force and win the love of Princess Leia the spunky, laser sword wielding leader of the Rebels.

Roland for whom the work is named goes crazy ("fou furieux") when his girl friend dumps him. He then spends roughly one third of the book running around Europe stark naked killing people indiscriminately. Fortunately a friend of his borrows the Hippogriff from Harry Porter who carries him to the moon where he discovers Roland's wits in bottle in the vault where the brains of Earthly poets are stored. He returns to the Earth and pours Roland's wits back into his head. With their leader back, the Christians then score a decisive victory over the Muslims. Roger converts to Christianity and marries Bradamente.

All in all, Orlando Furioso offers all the pleasures of a inter-Galactic adventure with great sword fights, passionate love stories and the triumph of the Force over the Dark Side. It is not to be missed.

[Adam McPhee · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is really important to me. Thinking about re-reading it soon, but Reynold's two volume verse version instead of Waldman's prose translation. I dunno.

[Armin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Viele Aha-Erlebnisse, wenig Lesevergnügen für später Geborene

Über die Jahrhunderte gern beklauter Klassiker mit viel Zukunftspotenzial für die Fantasyliteratur bis Harry Potter (Hippogreif, Drusilla) und wohl darüber hinaus. Wenn ich meinen Verständnisgewinn als Kriterium nehmen müsste, würde ich fünf Sterne geben. Allerdings wurde das Epos voller Cliffhanger für ein Publikum mit ganz anderen Rezeptionserwartungen oder Gewohnheiten verfasst.
Dass alles Volk, das nicht zur erlesenen Ritterkaste gehört, von den Helden gleich herdenweise dahin gemetzelt werden darf, hat mich fast noch mehr abgeschreckt als die geringe Charaktertiefe und praktische Profillosigkeit des Lanzen führenden oder Schwerter schwingenden Personals. Rüstungen und Waffen sind oft genauer beschrieben als Recken und nicht minder heldenhafte Streiterinnen. All das könnte ja noch eine Erbsünde von Homer selig sein, wo Achilles, Ajax und wie sie alle heißen, wie die Schnitter durch feindliche Reihen sensen. Etliche der Wunderwaffen sind auch Erbstücke aus dem trojanischen Krieg. So hat Roland anfangs das Schwert Hektors, während sein maurisches Gegenstück in Sachen Kampfkraft über die Rüstung von Trojas stärkstem Recken verfügt und gern seine Ausrüstung komplettieren würde. Da Wunderpferde und Zauberschwerter häufiger durch schlichten Raub als durch fairen Zweikampf den Besitzer wechseln, braucht man ein komplettes Tabellenwerk, um nicht den Überblick zu verlieren. Der Wunderhornbläser Astolf, der mit seiner Waffe gleichermaßen Freund und Feind in Panik versetzt, bildet vielleicht eine Ausnahme. Aber als der spätere Retter von Rolands Verstand zum aktiven Personal hinzu stößt, hatte ich schon vergessen, dass er weiter vorn als verzauberter Baum im Garten der Hexe Alcina herum stand, um Vorgeschichte zu liefern. Um später von Roger, dem eigentlichen Haupthelden, erlöst zu werden. Titelheld Roland schafft es in Sachen Präsenz nicht mal in die Top Ten. Im Vergleich zu diesem Wimmelbild in permanenter Bewegung. ist jeder noch so personen- und kosenamenreiche russische Dickwanst ein Kinderspiel. Zumal, siehe oben, sogar die Recken und Heroinen sämtliche Signalsymbole zwischenzeitlich einbüßen.

Zwischen den Lichtblicken bzw. Ahaerlebnissen in Sachen Nachwirkung (Voltaire, Opern von Händel und Mozart) gibt es immer wieder längere Strecken, die sich wie eine Ansammlung gereimter Turniersportberichte lesen. Rund 15 Verse jedes der 47 Gesänge sind Huldigungen an der Herrscherhaus Este von Ferrara, dessen Geschichte Urahnin Bradamante als Prophezeiungen an Merlins Grab und in einem Schloss zu sehen bekommt, in dem jeder Gast sein Nachtlager gegen Nachzügler im Turniermodus verteidigen muss. Die mit drunter gemischte Familiengeschichte war damals sicher gut für jede Menge Beifall für Bestätigung der eigenen Vortrefflichkeit. Aus heutiger Sicht sind die zahlreichen Verbeugungen, bei denen auch immer wieder eifrig der Klingelbeutel herum geht, aber auch ein Grund dafür, warum das Werk zwar ein populärer Steinbruch geblieben ist, aber für spätere Generationen eine höhere Hürde als Joyce, Musil oder Proust darstellt. Würde trotzdem jedem zu Ariost als Vorlauf zu Don Quijote raten, der Ritter von der traurigen Gestalt verliert sonst ein paar Bedeutungsebenen und gerät zur unnötigen Leserquälerei. Ganz egal, welche Lobeshymnen von welcher kritischen Instanz auch immer über Cervantes Abrechnung mit den Ritterepen im Umlauf ist.

[Francesca]

Le donne, i cavallier, l'arme, gli amori,
le cortesie, l'audaci imprese io canto[...]

Con alcuni libri accade così: come per l'amore a prima vista, lo capisci dall'inizio se ti appassionerà... Questo per me è stato Ariosto. Perciò non ve lo posso spiegare né mi sento di dirvi di leggerlo... è troppo "personale"... L'ho letto per dovere, ma, poi, sono stata molto contenta di questa forzatura... come una pianta legata al sostegno per crescere diritta, puoi non apprezzare il laccio, ma al sole ci arrivi per il verso giusto, perciò, alla fine, a quel laccio, magari mal-volentieri, ti trovi a dire grazie.

[Batgrl (Book Data Kept Elsewhere) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bought after hearing an interview with the translator, David R. Slavitt (listen at the following link):

World Books Podcast: Of Naked Maidens and Sea Serpents (February 2, 2010)

The Italian Renaissance epic “Orlando Furioso,” was once a hot volume, at least among the literati, such as Shakespeare, and musicians, such as Scarlotti and Haydn. But Ludovico Ariosto’s long tale of knights and monsters duking it out largely dropped off the radar screen in the 20th century, though it was Italo Calvino’s favorite work of literature. Translator David R. Slavitt wants to rectify that with his English translation of the poem, the first in 30 years. World Books Editor Bill Marx talks to Slavitt, a veteran translator of over eighty volumes of poetry and fiction, about how his playful version reflects the giggly, surrealist mischievousness of the original.

I thought that, since I hadn't read more than excerpts in undergrad, I should try to read the entire work. Well, not really - let's just say the first half, since the entire text is even more massive than this version. Note this fact from the wikipedia page:

Ariosto's work is 38,736 lines long in total, making it one of the longest poems in European literature.

So at 658 pages this isn't the complete poem. From the preface:

"What we have in this volume is slightly more than half of what Aristo wrote - primarily because the production costs of an enormous and unwieldy volume (or volumes) would have made for a discouragingly expensive book, which would have defeated my purpose of broadening Aristo's Anglophone audience."

I read a used copy which has been marked and underlined, with notes added here and there, by former owner Kate Miley (I think). Kate has won me over by the odd doodles and the random cartoon bear she sketched on the last page. At first I was rolling my eyes over the "lol" added here and there, but then I began to really get into the reading, and when I'd come to a "lol" I'd say to the book "I know, right?!" Because yes, there are some really funny moments. (And of course I had to quote them, see below.)

I should also note here that the earliest version of this came out in around 1516. So when you read the more modernized text of this version - the sentiments are still original and some wildly unusual for that time. (Here's the William Stewart Rose translation on Gutenberg, from 1823-31.)

So what's the book like? Hmmm, how to describe this to you...well, it's not like reading your average piece of 16th century poetic literature, not in this translation anyway. Think of this as a cross between a pulp novel, a comic book, a session of Dungeons and Dragons (where the DM has a great sense of humor), and a bodice-ripper romance that's heavy on the near-rape scenes (some of those made me wince, some made me say "oh great, not again" - because yes, it's a trope). In fact it's now inspired me to go read other translations just to see how others have translated some of these words. (Though I'm probably not going to get around to doing that anytime soon.)

I should add that I started reading this book during a particularly crappy time in my life, and I vaguely hoped that reading it might get my mind off of reality. But I was also expecting it to be a standard poetic epic that I'd have to work to understand what's going on - like, say, The Faerie Queene (which I still have not finished). I was actually trying to use it as Put Yourself To Sleep Reading at Bedtime. Instead I ended up reading it, enjoying it, and laughing every so often. And forgetting the crappiness I was in the midst of. Which I very much needed, and not at all what I expected from an epic. Also I'm the quietly-snickering-to-herself type more than laughing type - but I confess, I did laugh. So now I'm going to regard the book fondly just for helping me out. It gets a special bookshelf place. (After it's loaned to my father who's dying to read this translation.)

How much did I enjoy this read? Read the following quotes, and then the Reading Progress section. The amount I've bothered to quote is always a sign I'm having fun. For those wanting the quick version without having to read the HUGE amount of quotes - I think I quoted this book more than anything else I've read. Because I wanted a place to quick reference some of these lines. And then note how many stars I gave it.

IMPORTANT! My reaction is completely due to this particular translation. Having looked at one or two examples of previous translations - reading them would be a completely different experience.


Quotes:
(Not always copying the full stanza, just the funny and interesting bits.)

Canto II, 10
Rinaldo raises up Fusberta, which,
believe it or not, is the name of his broadsword.

.......

Canto II, 11
She's fleeing from Rinaldo, and here he stands,
victorious, and no one is left to protext her.
Unless she wants to give in to his demands,
as, if she remains there, he would expect her
to do, she had better make some other plans
and leave at once, out of self-respect or
simply fear. She does not make excuses
but with a twitch of the reins of her horse vamooses.

.......

Canto II, 58
The knight once more falls silent. You remember the knight
is talking to Bradamante. Those quotation
marks were reminders of this. But his story was quite
long, and during the course of his narration,
you may have forgotten the frame. But that's all right.

.......

Canto II, 72
And there it is, easy as pie, although
why pie is easy is difficult to explain.

.......

Canto II, 76 (last stanza before Canto III)
And then? Is this the end? But surely not.
The smaller twigs of the elm branch break her fall,
as you might have guessed, with all those pages you've got
in your right hand. So this cannot be all
there is. She doesn't die here, but just what
happens to her after this close call
that leaves her on the bottom, stunned and hurt so
we'll get to soon, perhaps in Canto Terzo.

.......

Canto III, 67
"...the odds would still be against you, for that mad
necromancer inside that arrogant
steel castle of his rides about on that bad
hippogryph that flies in extravagant
aerial maneuvers. But worse, you'll find,
is his shield with which he can render his foes blind.

68
"when he uncovers it. And do not expect
that you can contrive some stratagem - to fight
with your eyes closed perhaps. ..."

.......

Canto III, 77
She does not let him sit too close to her knowing
that he could rob her and then absquatulate.

.......

Guinevere, a king's daughter, is accused of being unchaste and thus law decrees she will be put to death. Rinaldo thinks this is a bad law, even if Guinevere has slept with someone:

Canto V, 66
"If the same ardor moves both men and women
to the sweetness of love, it is unfair
that women should be punished for being human
once, while men are praised as debonair
for doing it as often as they can do. Man
and woman should be treated the same. I declare
that I mean, with the help of God, to right this wrong
that is so outrageous and has gone on so long."

.......

Canto VI, 20
The island was like the one that Arethusa
lived on (it was Ortygia, I recall),
fleeing the river god. (You have to use a
book of myths to get these stories all
in order.) Let's say it was nice (and who's a
critic of islands anyway?) The small
island loomed much larger as they got lower,
and the hippogryph flew gentlier and slower.

.......

Ruggiero must fight the "cruel giantess" Erifilla:

Canto VII, 3
Her armor, first, was set with gems of many
colors - rubies, emeralds, chrysolite.
She was mounted, not on a horse that any
person might want, but a wolf on which she'd fight.
Ruggiero took a second look at this when he
approached and wondered if she had trained it to bite.
And it wasn't a normal wolf but enormous in size,
tall as an ox, and with gleaming yellow eyes.

.......

Canto VIII, 71
...He tries to focus his mind without
success and these notions, whirling about like perns
in a gyre, or, say, like moonbeams put to rout
as they bounce off the surface of water and one discerns
on the ceiling a dance of their tiny lights that are acting
as if they were terrified - it can be distracting.

.......

Orlando wondering where Angelica is, and worrying about her possible rape (because her loss of virginity would be such a trauma for *him* because of course she belongs to him - all males in this story seem to have this attitude towards Angelica), among other dangers:

Canto VIII, 77
"And where are you now, my hope, my love, without
my protection? Do wicked wolves surround you,
their slathering jaws agape as they circle about
their prey? That delicate flower that I found, you
beautiful blossom the angels gave me. I doubt
that you can survive untouched, unplucked, your dew
still on those lovely petals. Or have they by force
taken you? I worry about that, of course.

78
"And if the worst that I can imagine has come
to pass, what can I wish for but a quick
death? O God, I pray to you to have some
mercy. Afflict me some other way, sick
crippled, blind, dishonored, deaf and dumb,
but spare her. Otherwise, I shall have to pick
some painful form of suicide." ...

.......

Must give you three stanzas here so that you can see how fun Aristo is - what at first seems a pacifist rant then becomes something else in stanza 90. All about the modern technology of destruction - in this time period - the cannon.

Canto IX, 88
And neither is Orlando hanging around.
He departs, having taken but one
thing - that machine of fire, iron, and sound,
a weapon of mass destruction, that terrible gun,
which he does not want for his own use, having found
it to be unfair and unsporting: only a son
of a bitch would think to use it in a fight.
It isn't at all appropriate for a knight.

89
It ought to be destroyed, he thinks, to keep
anyone from ever making use
of it against men to kill and to estrepe.
He cannot think of any sane excuse
for it to exist, and he throws it into the deep
of the sea to make men and women safer, whose
futures will not be blighted by such an obscene,
inelegant, and dangerous machine.

90
He also finds it politically incorrect
in the way it makes a weak man equal to
the strongest, so that all rank and respect
are fundamentally threatened, for otherwise who
would know his place or observe the correct
distinctions? Civilization as he knew
it would be over, equality would reign.
The very idea gives our paladin pain.

.......

I had no idea orc had so many definitions. In this case it's a sea monster:

Canto X, 101
Ruggiero, however, has his lance at the ready,
and with it he strikes the orc, a writhing mass
that is more a blob than a beast, except for the head he
is aiming at. Its mouth is a dark crevasse
with protruding teeth like a boar's. Ruggiero's steady
lance strikes at the forehead but he has
little success. It's as if he is striking blows
on granite or iron. It's perfectly otiose.

.......

Hey look, it's more cannon ranting! And the devil is to blame!

Canto XI, 22
Had it been up to Orlando we would all
be much better off. But the cannon's cruel inventor
was the one who tempted Eve and contrived the fall
of mankind from the garden, the arch tormentor,
whose clear intention was that what we call
guns and cannons would one day re-enter
the world of men, in our grandparents' time or before
and would transform both society and war.

23
A hundred fathoms down it was, but some
necromancer raised it from the deep
and gave it to the Germans who learned from
repeated trial and error how to keep
from blowing themselves up. The curriculum
of the devil suited them well and with a steep
learning curve they rediscovered its use.
But secrets tend to spread and reproduce.

24
...And what this means is that anyone, high or low,
is the equal of anyone else. It has done away
with rank and order, and honor, and valor, too,
and the rabble are just the same as me and you.

.......

Enchantress Melissa (one of the good ones) explains the castle that's a magical trap set by the villain Atlas - and in which the reader can see as a metaphor...:

Canto XIII, 49
She reveals his trick of intuiting the desire
of every person and offering just that
for which the man's or woman's heart is on fire,
but whatever it is, it's just out of reach, which is what
keeps them there, searching through the entire
structure for that voice they keep hearing but
can never quite locate. It is a quest
that can never succeed but from which they can never rest.

.......

[Steve Morrison · Rating 5 out of 5]

Orlando Furioso is a miracle of lightness, speed, and wit. Imagine all the brightest qualities Byron, Spenser, Calvino, and Cervantes jumbled deliciously together, and spiced with a dash of Kafka. It's little wonder so many Italian operas sprang from such fertile soil. The poem is about the labyrinthine impossibility of desire and the wild weavings of destiny, told in a wry tone that jumps so quickly from person to person and scene to scene that the reader is soon swept up in Ariosto's ironic whirlwind of Amor. My new favorite book--this is one I'll be rereading the rest of my life!

I wrote a little more on it here: http://patienceandshuffle.blogspot.co...

[SurDiablo · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have never been a fan of poetry, so it was quite a surprise when I ended up enjoying this immensely during a read-along with some of my friends. Didn't know much about this work other than it being one of the Italian Renaissance classics, so I went in expecting a fairly cliché story about chivalry and knighthood, but it turned out to be extremely humorous and entertaining, with rich and ornate stanzas.

The narrative is long, featuring a multitude of characters whose stories are intertwined. The author successfully juggles these stories by swapping points of view at opportune times, keeping the plot fresh. The story itself is adventurous and expansive, capturing a wild range of emotions, with plenty of twists and turns—some foreshadowed, some contrived—but with the narrator's meta-commentary where he pokes fun at everything, including himself, you can easily excuse it. What surprised me the most was how progressive Ariosto seemed for his era, advocating for gender equality and calling out double standards in the 1500s. The adventures range from your typical "saving the damsel in distress" to venturing to the Moon itself, so most of them were quite appealing. The satiric elements, featuring larger-than-life characters and insightful critiques of the cultural and political landscape of the time, were also well-executed, but chances are many of these nuances went over my head due to my lack of familiarity with the context. My favorite characters were Bradamante, Rinaldo, Astolfo, and Orlando, although the last one could have had more presence in the story. The antagonists, including Saracen knights like Rodomonte, were also intriguing, as I was eager to see who would prevail each time.

However, the poem does have certain problems I couldn't overlook despite my enjoyment. This particular translation omits several cantos, which can be read in the second Lacuna book required for the complete experience. That one felt comparatively weaker due to most of the cantos being dedicated to the author's patrons back then, which is understandable but hinders the pacing. I thought the first half was better overall, but the poem became more meandering towards the end, culminating in an abrupt, somewhat underwhelming conclusion. While several character arcs are resolved, there are still some loose ends. Additionally, despite the title, Orlando isn’t exactly the main protagonist, which I wasn’t the biggest fan of. The translator took some liberties by including anachronisms that made several moments more hilarious, but this could affect immersion for some readers.

This epic is a direct sequel to Orlando Innamorato, which I wasn't aware of initially. If possible, read that first, although I didn’t find it necessary. If you are a fan of knights, battles, and magic in medieval times, you will likely enjoy this poem. Don’t let its length or age intimidate you; I found it accessible enough despite the occasional archaic words.

[Sara (Sbarbine_che_leggono) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Letti i canti I, II, IV, XXIX, XXXIV per l'esame di letteratura italiana.

Se avessi dei bambini mi piacerebbe leggerne un canto ogni sera e poi raccontarglielo, come una splendida fiaba. Nonostante le tante disquisizioni in merito, trovo che L'Orlando Furioso sia prima di tutto un poema di intrattenimento. "Devertere" , ovvero trovare strade diverse e aprire nuovi orizzonti alla fantasia, è il suo scopo.

Ariosto, mago del divertimento.
(E so benissimo che non è tutto qui)

[Cassandra Kay Silva · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is so intricately woven. It really is one of those classics that so many other stories draw from. The characters are fabulous and the stories legendary.

[Fernando · Rating 4 out of 5]

“La naturaleza lo creó y luego rompió el molde.”

El “Orlando Furioso” es junto al “Amadís de Gaula” uno de los dos libros preferidos de Alonso Quijano, es decir, “Don Quijote de la Mancha”.
Cervantes tuvo a bien recordar, homenajear y tener muy presente a este enorme poema no sólo épico, relacionado con las novelas de caballerías (aunque no lo es, salvo su temática) sino también amoroso y laudatorio de Ludovico Ariosto que fue publicado definitivamente en 1832.
En él, desfila un sinnúmero de personajes siendo él, Orlando, la apasionada Bradamante, así también como Angélica, la mujer por la cual Orlando se vuelve furioso (tal vez la inspiración que Cervantes tuvo para crear la locura de su Quijote), Ruggiero, Rodamonte, Astolfo y muchos más.
Lo más impactante de este libro, que uno puede leer junto a otros clásicos como “La Divina Comedia” de Dante Alighieri, “El paraíso perdido” de John Milton, “Gargantúa y Pantagruel” de Rabelais o poemas como “La balada del viejo marinero” de Samuel Taylor Coleridge es que todos fueron ilustrados por el genio inigualable de Gustave Doré, tal es el caso de mi edición, cuyas ilustraciones son realmente impresionantes.
Aunque la edición que poseo está resumida (el poema original de Ariosto consta de 38.736 versos) no pierde ilación ni coherencia y es otro clásico que quería tener en mi biblioteca.

[Asclepiade · Rating 5 out of 5]

La lettura completa dell’Orlando furioso, ad essere onesti, non è impresa da pigliare a gabbo: ad occhio e croce, già se si parla di dimensioni, è un poema lungo fra il doppio e il triplo della Divina Commedia e della Gerusalemme Liberata; in compenso è molto più facile da leggere rispetto a quella, e rispetto a questa è, almeno in apparenza, molto più lineare dal punto di vista psicologico e perfino linguistico: infatti, sebbene a ridosso della pubblicazione ambedue fossero letti o ascoltati con piacere da gente della più varia cultura e posizione sociale, credo che soltanto il poema dell’Ariosto risulti piano e comprensibile a un lettore di modesta istruzione, in gran parte, anche senza l’ausilio di note, perlomeno se si saltano i brani che lodano uomini di cultura e principi coevi o alludono a fatti storici vicini all’autore, perspicui allora ma talvolta enigmatici oggi. Confesso che, dopo aver letto il poema una trentina d’anni fa, vi ero tornato spesso, ma soltanto su canti singoli o brani che mi piacevano; ora che invece l’ho finalmente riletto per intero, mi accorgo che avevo fatto male, perché appunto leggendolo per intero lo si gusta molto di più, e si scoprono molte cose dianzi trascurate o dimenticate. Inoltre la lettura integrale permette di assaporare una delle virtù principali dell’inventio ariostesca: l’intreccio e il proliferare continuo di trame, di vicende, di personaggi: “Quante corbellerie, messer Ariosto!”, pare che commentasse al riguardo il cardinal Ippolito d’Este; il quale suona giudizio superficiale all’orecchio del superficiale critico dei nostri tempi, ed è, all’opposto, esattissimo, perché mette in luce tutta la gratuità, la sovrabbondanza trabocchevole, il puro gusto del raccontare, del girovagare fra le digressioni, del creare, illustrare, signoreggiare con divertita sprezzatura un intero mondo variopinto e onirico. Il sorriso ariostesco, di cui molto s’è scritto e discusso, innamora e piace proprio perché investe la materia cavalleresca con la luminosità del suo sovrano distacco e al contempo la segue accarezzandola con amorevole cura; il riso aperto, la parodia sollazzevole – seppure piena di ombre, di malesseri, di nostalgie, di angoli dolenti – arriverà più tardi, con Cervantes, e in parte, ma in tono sghembo, giullaresco e lunare assieme, già s’era un po’ affacciata nella nostra poesia col Morgante di Luigi Pulci. Ludovico Ariosto mantiene in miracoloso equilibrio l’affetto per un mondo di cortesia guerriera e di valore sempre temperato da un’alta civiltà, e un’ironia discreta, urbanissima e sottile che sa brillare ora con brevi guizzi salaci, ora con crepuscolare garbo screziato di agrodolce. Non per fare del nazionalismo letterario, ma basta confrontare il sorriso ariostesco e quello di Rabelais per vedere quale differenza culturale vi fosse tra l’Italia umanistica e cortigiana e una Francia che ancora si stava sbrogliando dai panni medievali, e in molte cose restava medievale anche senza volerlo e lottando per non esserlo, a cominciare da una comicità greve, grassa e beffarda e purtroppo, a tratti, fangosa. Il poema, tuttavia, non resta frutto ed esercizio di puro capriccio. La mano lontana e guantata dell’architetto si sente soprattutto man mano che l’Orlando furioso volge al termine. La magia, il meraviglioso pian piano si spengono in un’aura vaga di malinconia, a mo’ d’un sole che volge al tramonto; anche qui, però, con una leggerezza svagata, come il volo delle navi create con un pugno di fronde da Astolfo, che alla fine della guerra tornano foglie perdendosi lievi nel vento. Le ottave ariostesche, con elegante seduzione, invitano in un mondo di castelli e d’isole incantate, di fontane amene, di selve infinite, di paladini sventati o cortesi, di saraceni sbruffoni o cavallereschi, di maghi, d’incantatrici, di donzelle, di eremiti; ci fanno trepidare per quei combattimenti sempre simili e sempre nuovi, dove le lance volano in frantumi o le spade fatate sprizzano scintille mentre gli usberghi e le corazze resistono a cozzi micidiali: e davvero ci si trova a entusiasmarsi per questi combattimenti, come ci s’intenerisce alla morte di Zerbino o di Brandimarte, o nell’episodio, giustamente famoso, di Cloridano e Medoro – anche se la commozione, in Ariosto, è asciutta e labile, perché l’Ariosto ama il suo mondo poetico, ma non senza riserve come invece avviene col Tasso. Credo che tutti, una volta lontani dagli obblighi scolastici, dovremmo tornare sul Furioso: lo scopriremmo così molto più ricco, più coinvolgente, più bello di troppa narrativa inutile con cui ci stordisce l’editoria odierna; ed anzi credo che sarebbe bello da leggere a voce alta in compagnia o in famiglia, come si faceva una volta: sarebbe un divertimento. Altro che videogiuochi, altro che televisione!...