Nicoletta Simborowski. Secrets and Puzzles. Silence and the Unsaid in Contemporary Italian Writing.

Nicoletta Simborowski. Secrets and Puzzles. Silence and the Unsaid in Contemporary Italian Writing. Oxford: Legenda, 2003.

Primo Levi, Cesare Pavese, Natalia Ginzburg, and Francesca Sanvitale are at the center of Nicoletta Simborowski's study of the poetics of the unsaid that aims to demonstrate that "aspects of the text that were omitted within the structure of what had ostensibly been selected" (1) yield important information and reveal new layers of meaning. This perspective is used to examine works written after the Second World War, "when censorship [did] not apply," and when "what writers choose not to say becomes particularly significant" (13).

The book is comprised of a preface, six chapters--earlier versions of chapters two, three, and four originally appeared in literary journals--and a conclusion. The first chapter establishes a theoretical framework for the study and includes a discussion of the unconscious and the psychological, the theory of silence, the fantastic, and film theory. Simborowski warns that "the unsaid" and "silence" are used interchangeably, and that the "truth" is not her primary concern because all the texts--autobiographical, semi-autobiographical and fictional--are analyzed as works of art.

In chapter two, Simborowski argues that the poetics of omission and silence as a means of expression in Holocaust testimony is exemplified by Levi's poetics of restraint. The element of restraint, or ritegno--Levi's "shaping and expression of the facts [which] makes unbearable material approachable for a wide range of people" (23)--is responsible for the perceived objectivity of the writer. Simborowski agrees that ritegno is why the author's texts gained wide readership, but she vehemently disputes Levi's literary image as an objective, dispassionate author, noting that ritegno "is not only an artistic decision but a personal psychological response" (28) which may lead to ellipsis and to a loss of comprehension for the reader. Such is the case in Se questo e un uomo, where Levi's unexplained dislike of the protagonist Henri creates a gap of logic in the text between what it says and what it implies. The silence surrounding Levi's antipathy for Henri reveals the author's reluctance--or psychological unwillingness--to discuss things he finds distasteful, such as Henri's implied homosexuality and suspected sexual exploitation of children, thus providing an example where ritegno "overrides the writer's objectivity and blocks understanding for the reader" (39).

Chapter three focuses on Cesare Pavese's political commitment--an important issue in light of the author's secret Taccuino that indicates that Pavese's "political allegiance at least as late as 1943 was not actually with the anti-Fascist struggle" (49). An analysis of "La famiglia" and La casa in collina reveals that the novel contains Pavese's confession and apologia for not joining the anti-Fascist partisans. By relating the works to the revelations in the Taccuino, Simborowski demonstrates that Pavese's concealed admission of guilt in the novel "deals specifically with the revelations of the Taccuino and offers a kind of justification for the views expressed there" (50). Simborowski contrasts Pavese's use of the word ragazzo (associated with thoughtless, conscience-free violence) with that of uomo (connected with thoughtful decision and sacrifice to a cause), to argue that Corrado's political refusal is not motivated by cowardice but is the rejection of a reprehensible kind of activism "that sometimes passes for courage amongst the Fascists and the partisans" (62). The issue of senseless violence and tainted motivation for "courageous" action provides the link between narrator and author and reveals Pavese's self-justification. The continuation of Pavese's apologia for his lack of political commitment, argues Simborowski, is disguised as a pro-Communist declaration in La luna e i falo.

In chapter four, "Natalia Ginzburg's Lessico Famigliare," Simborowski examines how the technique of the lessico, Ginzburg's family's own language, relates to the author's psychological reticence to express painful, difficult experiences, and how the "unsaid" in her writings mirrors the author's self-effacement and insecurities. Silence, that is "passages of sustained narrative without lessico" (81) occurs when the narrative changes from an evocation of pre-war normality to a chronicle of distressing wartime events. Acting as a background melody, the lessico falls silent at moments of great tragedy, such as Leone Ginzburg's death, or during anti-Fascist discussions. The lessico, a stylistic device modeled after Proust's "la petite phrase," belies Ginzburg's assertions that the novel was written "del tutto come parlare." In fact, argues Simborowski, the novel is a "highly crafted and literary artefact with the literary and musical idioms carefully intertwined" (92). Simborowski considers Ginzburg a feminist writer, arguing that although Lessico famigliare does not offer an overt discussion of women's issues, feminist attitudes emerge nevertheless as "unsaid," and that the author's "habitual reluctance to speak about herself extends to reluctance to talk overtly about the condition of all women" (103).

In the following chapter, Simborowski addresses the historical aspect of female speechlessness from the traditional writings to those of contemporary Italian women writers. The notion of the "gaze"--the voyeuristic/fetishistic representation of women as objects--is also explored for its relevance in women's self-representation in literature. Silence, deceit and women's image are illustrated by Sanvitale's Madre e figlia, a semi-autobiographical work in which self-effacement and representation of reality are conveyed by relying on visual and cinematographic techniques.

The last chapter explores the culturally defining role of the Einaudi publishing house in the context of post-war sensibilities. Einaudi's publishing decisions, which reflected prevailing public attitudes, disclose instances of reticence and omission, such as Calvino's suppression of sexually explicit material from his work, Calvino and Ginzburg's editorial cuts of Pavese's published diary, and their decision to conceal his incriminating Taccuino. Finally, Tina Pizzardo's account of her relationship with Pavese, analyzed against the external and psychological influences of contemporary mores, provides an example of silence as self-deception and distorted memory.

Simborowski's convincing study makes a notable contribution to a better understanding of the role played by the unsaid in the creation of literary works, and could well inspire similar studies of other works.

LOUISE ROZIER

University of Arkansas