Status
Available
Genres
Collection
Publication
New York : Arcade Pub., 1989, c1985.
Description
"As far as the education of children is concerned," states Natalia Ginzburg in this collection of her finest and best-known short essays, "I think they should be taught not the little virtues but the great ones. Not thrift but generosity and an indifference to money; not caution but courage and a contempt for danger; not shrewdness but frankness and a love of truth; not tact but a love of one's neighbor and self-denial; not a desire for success but a desire to be and to know." Whether she writes of the loss of a friend, Cesare Pavese; or what is inexpugnable of World War II; or the Abruzzi, where she and her first husband lived in forced residence under Fascist ru≤ or the importance of silence in our society; or her vocation as a writer; or even a pair of worn-out shoes, Ginzburg brings to her reflections the wisdom of a survivor and the spare, wry, and poetically resonant style her readers have come to recognize. "A glowing light of modern Italian literature . . . Ginzburg's magic is the utter simplicity of her prose, suddenly illuminated by one word that makes a lightning streak of a plain phrase. . . . As direct and clean as if it were carved in stone, it yet speaks thoughts of the heart." --The New York Times Book Review… (more)
Media reviews
So light is the touch of the Italian writer Natalia Ginzburg in these 11 essays, written between 1944 and 1960 and translated by Dick Davis, that they might float through the reader’s mind unimpeded, if it weren’t for the ballast hidden within.
User reviews
LibraryThing member AliceaP
I had hoped to be absolutely knocked out of my socks by the essays in this volume but it fell quite a bit short of the mark. The Little Virtues by Natalia Ginzburg was listed in a footnote of a book that I read last year (I think it was Wild Things but I'm honestly not sure) and it piqued my
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interest because it was listed as a resource for children's education. Ginzburg writes about her childhood in Italy (this is a translation) and the lessons which she learned from the ups and downs of her life there. It was a tumultuous life too. Organized in a series of short essays, different points in the author's life are described and used to illumine various life lessons. She covers just about everything from family dynamics, adolescent friendships, first love, and (what I was there for) the education of children. One of the major issues I had with this book was that education seemed almost like an afterthought even though the title was crafted from this section. I found the overall collection mediocre at best and not at all mindbogglingly profound as the footnote of the other book (and the online reviews) had led me to believe . In fact, only some of the points were even remotely accessible while the majority were nearly indecipherable. It read more as a series of diary entries than anything approaching academic. 5/10 from a severely disappointed nerd. Show Less
LibraryThing member RandyMetcalfe
The eleven essays collected here cover a long period in Natalia Ginzburg’s writing life. Her vocation, as she often refers to it, has brought her solace through hard times and other pleasures as well. It is her guide to much of life’s vicissitudes, even to the point of steering her
I preferred the essays in part one of the collection. These are at times nostalgic, a touch mournful, highly particularized, and personal. The very first essay, “Winter in the Abruzzi,” may be the best, though her two portraits of England are charming, if only because they describe a land that no longer exists: “It is a country which has always shown itself ready to welcome foreigners, from very diverse communities, without I think oppressing them.” If only.
The essays of the second part of the book are more abstract. Not because they deal with essentially abstract notions, but because, I think, Ginzburg’s writing style has changed. Her claims become sweeping, about childhood, education, her own vocation and vocations in general, and the nature of virtue. Here the writing is less compelling, less communicative, less appealing. At least for me.
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understanding of the virtues, little and great.I preferred the essays in part one of the collection. These are at times nostalgic, a touch mournful, highly particularized, and personal. The very first essay, “Winter in the Abruzzi,” may be the best, though her two portraits of England are charming, if only because they describe a land that no longer exists: “It is a country which has always shown itself ready to welcome foreigners, from very diverse communities, without I think oppressing them.” If only.
The essays of the second part of the book are more abstract. Not because they deal with essentially abstract notions, but because, I think, Ginzburg’s writing style has changed. Her claims become sweeping, about childhood, education, her own vocation and vocations in general, and the nature of virtue. Here the writing is less compelling, less communicative, less appealing. At least for me.
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LibraryThing member smichaelwilson
A collection of essays by Italian author Natalia Ginzburg focused primarily on her life in Italy during and after World War II, her vocation as a writer, and her reflections on human behavior and relationship. The title of the book comes from her essay by the same name, which discusses the
Ginzburg's prose feels personal yet distant, and there is a lyrical cadence to many of her pieces that belies her poetic soul. Her descriptions of the people and places in wartime and post-war Europe manage to communicate the despair and weariness of a survivor, yet are still tinged with hope and affection. These are essays that will both move you and remain with you.
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importance of teaching children "big virtues" such as courage, generosity, and love.Ginzburg's prose feels personal yet distant, and there is a lyrical cadence to many of her pieces that belies her poetic soul. Her descriptions of the people and places in wartime and post-war Europe manage to communicate the despair and weariness of a survivor, yet are still tinged with hope and affection. These are essays that will both move you and remain with you.
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LibraryThing member suesbooks
Variety of essays very well written. Content was interesting, but I did not agree with much of it.
LibraryThing member thorold
Imagine a mid-20th-century Italian intellectual who admits without embarrassment to wearing worn-out shoes, claims that she isn't interested in cooking and always buys the wrong things from the market, can't drive (in Torino!), can't sing (and starts an essay on the topic of "Silence" by discussing
No, I can't, either. But that is the image that Natalia Ginzburg likes to project. In the land of bella figura her provocative self-mockery and her brusque, no-nonsense style seem to have caused quite a few cases of spontaneous combustion amongst literary critics, but they clearly won her a lot of respect as well.
The short essays in Le piccole virtù, written between 1945 and 1962, form something between a memoir and a manifesto for literature in a post-war world, but without the egotism either of those forms usually implies.
"Inverno in Abruzzo" describes the experience of being banished by the fascists to a remote village near Aquila — she writes about the privations of daily life for the family, and how much she and her husband miss the city (the children are too young to imagine what a city might be like). And then in the last paragraph she turns everything upside-down by telling us that her husband was murdered in a Roman jail, a few months after they left Abruzzo. She couldn't imagine it at the time, but now she sees that the months they spent together in the back of beyond were the best time of her life. "Le scarpe rotte", written shortly after the war when she was working in Rome, the kids parked with her parents in Torino, is about the unexpected pleasures of poverty, and a classic attack on one of the most sacred things in Italian culture.
Then there's a lovely — but unsentimental — portrait of her friend, the poet Cesare Pavese, who killed himself in August 1950, and two pieces about London in 1960. The second of these, "La Maison Volpé", is a glorious denunciation of the English food-culture of the time, possibly the most unapologetically Italian piece in the whole book, but spot-on in its dry mockery. No-one who remembers the dusty curtains and rotating plastic oranges of those days could possibly take offence. "Lui e io" is a funny, self-deprecatory description of her relationship with her second husband, Gabriele Baldini, which could be about any middle-aged couple ("he's always too hot, I'm always too cold...").
In the second part, she discusses how the experience of the war has changed things for her generation and the things they can write about, she talks about developing as a writer ("Il mio mestiere") and as a human being ("I rapporti humani"), and in the piece that gives the collection its title, about the responsibilities of parenting, which for her seems to be more about non-intervention than anything else, in a very sixties spirit.
All the pieces in this collection are clever, subtle, amazing bits of writing, but the ones that really stood out for me were "Il mio mestiere" and "I rapporti humani", two pieces that seem to sum up everything that needs to be said about the puzzling business of growing up. I really wish I'd read them as a teenager!
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an opera), never uses two words where one will do, and has never been known to drop names of any description. No, I can't, either. But that is the image that Natalia Ginzburg likes to project. In the land of bella figura her provocative self-mockery and her brusque, no-nonsense style seem to have caused quite a few cases of spontaneous combustion amongst literary critics, but they clearly won her a lot of respect as well.
The short essays in Le piccole virtù, written between 1945 and 1962, form something between a memoir and a manifesto for literature in a post-war world, but without the egotism either of those forms usually implies.
"Inverno in Abruzzo" describes the experience of being banished by the fascists to a remote village near Aquila — she writes about the privations of daily life for the family, and how much she and her husband miss the city (the children are too young to imagine what a city might be like). And then in the last paragraph she turns everything upside-down by telling us that her husband was murdered in a Roman jail, a few months after they left Abruzzo. She couldn't imagine it at the time, but now she sees that the months they spent together in the back of beyond were the best time of her life. "Le scarpe rotte", written shortly after the war when she was working in Rome, the kids parked with her parents in Torino, is about the unexpected pleasures of poverty, and a classic attack on one of the most sacred things in Italian culture.
Then there's a lovely — but unsentimental — portrait of her friend, the poet Cesare Pavese, who killed himself in August 1950, and two pieces about London in 1960. The second of these, "La Maison Volpé", is a glorious denunciation of the English food-culture of the time, possibly the most unapologetically Italian piece in the whole book, but spot-on in its dry mockery. No-one who remembers the dusty curtains and rotating plastic oranges of those days could possibly take offence. "Lui e io" is a funny, self-deprecatory description of her relationship with her second husband, Gabriele Baldini, which could be about any middle-aged couple ("he's always too hot, I'm always too cold...").
In the second part, she discusses how the experience of the war has changed things for her generation and the things they can write about, she talks about developing as a writer ("Il mio mestiere") and as a human being ("I rapporti humani"), and in the piece that gives the collection its title, about the responsibilities of parenting, which for her seems to be more about non-intervention than anything else, in a very sixties spirit.
All the pieces in this collection are clever, subtle, amazing bits of writing, but the ones that really stood out for me were "Il mio mestiere" and "I rapporti humani", two pieces that seem to sum up everything that needs to be said about the puzzling business of growing up. I really wish I'd read them as a teenager!
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LibraryThing member boredgames
in love with her voice, reaching me across time
Language
Original language
Italian