In her diary De Céspedes confides, “I will never be a great writer.” Here I take her to task for not knowing something about herself. For she was a great writer, a subversive writer, a writer censored by fascists, a writer who refused to take part in literary prizes, a writer ahead of her times. In my view, she is one of Italy’s most cosmopolitan, incendiary, insightful, and overlooked writers.
