Giovanni Papini (1881–1956)

The book is both depressing and sound for those with intellectual ambitions during adolescence. It certainly was sound to me. It explores the protagonist's quest for greatness, yet he ultimately achieves nothing according to his own standards. Despite this, by his thirties, he has managed to direct philosophical magazines and reflect on various aspects of life, questioning whether he is truly a "finished" man. I recommend it to someone in their thirties facing an existential crisis. The book show more resonates with themes similar to "Thus Spoke Zarathustra," reflecting the intellectual journey to maturity. It's a compelling read that prompts introspection. show less

¿Novela o libro de relatos? Pregunta maliciosa. La obra de Papini no merece catálogos que la hagan menos vasta.
Gog lo contiene todo, el siglo XX está dentro de este libro. Los capítulos son tan redondos como perfectos, y muchos de los personajes recuperan el antiguo tropo del oráculo, loco que dice la verdad.
El personaje terrible, anticristo moderno, espejo de un mundo que se desmorona "como una pila de piedras", pone su marca en la arena como símbolo de ruptura, de transición. La show more decepción es mucha y no hay más salida que convertirnos en monstruos catárticos.
Gog es un buen libro para comenzar el año, y mucho de lo que ama o repugna Gog sigue presente en nuestro ya decepcionado siglo, como si Papini lo hubiera adivinado y nos advirtiera desde las páginas, o si el mundo no cambiara del todo a través de las generaciones. show less

By 1921 when this was published, Papini was a man deeply passionate for Christ. This is apparent from the very introduction, let alone throughout the commentary he has written on his Saviour’s life. As an evangelical atheist for his first four decades, this may come as something of a surprise. It shows that the man certainly underwent a conversion.

For those familiar with the Gospel writings, there will be little here that is unknown in the narrative. Occasionally, Papini embellishes with show more reference to apocryphal writings or church legend, but he usually lets you know that he is doing so. For those not familiar with the life of Jesus, this would make a fair introduction, not least because the passion Papini writes with is somewhat infections. He manages to bring insight into the most familiar aspects of the story. Take, for example, the opening line: Jesus was born in a stable, a real stable, not the bright airy portico which Christian painters have created for the Son of David, as if ashamed their God should have lain down in poverty and dirt.

But Papini was very much a child of his time. This becomes apparent whenever the Jewish authorities are in focus and, in particular, during the arrest, trial and subsequent execution of Christ. His portrayal of the physiognomy of Christ’s enemies most strongly brought to mind lines I’d previously heard in the depraved Nazi documentary The Eternal Jew and most recently encountered in Dickens’ depiction of Fagin: hooked noses and hairy brows all round.

Papini was an ardent fascist and a great supporter of Mussolini. He firmly believed in theories of Jewish plots to commandeer the planet and it is a shame that he could not see past his prejudices to understand that Christ himself, as well as all the disciples he so passionately portrays, were very much Jewish.

Having said that, this was a work which surprised me for its intensity and for how little known it is in Christian circles. It may well be that the writer’s association with fascism has prevented this from reaching a wider readership. show less

“No one ever knew the real name of the man we all called the Sick Gentleman. Since his sudden disappearance everything that was his has vanished as well…”
That’s the very enticing start of this short story.

We learn that he spoke enigmatically of “horrible things” and that he had an “unforgettable smile”, and a “constantly vacant look”.
“His presence lent a fantastic tint to the simplest things.”

The closing lines are equally cryptic and unsettling:
“Murmuring something show more very gently he left my room, and only one person has seen him since.”

Image: "Caricature of Papini", by Carlo Carrà & Ardengo Soffici, from Broom, 1922. (Source)

What is revealed explored within the story, and how, reminds me of Jorge Luis Borges (see my review of his Collected Fictions HERE, and like Borges, he lost his sight, albeit at an older age). It prompts introspective questions of philosophy, theology and reality:

• Is “I think, therefore I am” true, or could any or all of us be figments of the imagination of a creator?
• Or perhaps we’re living in a simulation but don’t realise it?
• Does it even matter?
• And what about the ethics of suicide, and of helping someone choose to end their life?


Short story club

I read this in Black Water: The Anthology of Fantastic Literature, by Alberto Manguel, from which I’m reading one story a week with The Short Story Club, starting 4 September 2023.

You can read this story here.

You can join the group here. show less