Picaresco e sguaiato, è un viaggio nella mediocrità delle promesse artistiche tradite. Pagina dopo pagina, capitolo dopo capitolo, il protagonista passa attraverso avventure di ogni tipo, rivelando a poco a poco la sua indole non solo di perdente predestinato, ma anche di ipocrita e, spesso, truffatore. Divertente e dinamico, si legge d'un fiato (molto diverso dall'unico altro Malamud che ho letto, L'uomo di Kiev, capolavoro tragico). ( )

The story of Fidelman, an American Jew who saves his money to study art in Italy. Each story finds him in a worse situation, but he never stops having epiphanies about art, love, and life. His romantic entwinement with a painter is reminiscent of an Anais Nin story. ( )

Pictures of Fidelman is a little known work by Bernard Malamud. That's probably just as well.

Arthur Fidelman is a Jewish student / writer / painter without much money who goes off to Rome to write / paint / study. In a series of short stories tied together into a sort of novel he goes from Writer to painter to forger to pimp to garbageman and who knows what else. It's a decline and fall novel. It's a questing novel. Or something.

There are some great descriptions of Rome and Florence and Italy and some lovely thoughts about art and literature and philosophy.

But Fidelman is in the end of bit of a schnook and to be honest more than a bit of a cipher. And in the end there is an ending that felt just tacked on, and close de box!.

Malamud wrote a bunch of great books. If this is one of his less-than-great ones, that's OK with me.