Heillandi saga af riddara á miðöldum sem er ekki til. Herklæði hans eru tóm en hann talar við félaga sína og berst með þeim. Heiður hans og hugrekki er óvéfengjanlegt. Þegar vafa er varpað á fortíð hans og afrek sem öfluðu honum riddaratignar verður riddarinn að leggja í hættuför til að sanna afrek sín. Calvino gerir stólpagrín að hugsjónum miðaldariddarans og aðalsins. Unaður aflestrar. ( )

Calvino is one of those authors I always come to slightly nervously, knowing he's going to be difficult and experimental, but then have to laugh at myself because I should have remembered from the last five or six times how much fun "difficult and experimental" becomes when he's in charge of it. This particular one is, as we should all know, the missing link between Orlando furioso and Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Agilulfo is the most perfect knight in Charlemagne's army. Brave, reliable, immaculately clean, a model of efficiency and a walking encyclopaedia of the rules of chivalry, the only knight in the army who finds inspecting regimental kitchens as interesting and rewarding as smiting the infidel. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to have many friends... And even more oddly, he doesn't appear to exist. When he lifts the visor of his spotless white suit of armour, it turns out that there's no-one inside it.

But then there's the irrepressibly keen young Rambaldo, raised on tales of chivalry (which did not have anything to say about the administration of regimental kitchens and the proper way to make cabbage soup) and out to avenge his father's death at the hands of the Moors; the enigmatic amazon-warrior Bradamante (with the messiest tent in the army) who lusts after the efficient Agilulfo from inside her suit of armour; young Torrismondo who isn't quite who he says he is; and Agilulfo's unusual squire Gurdulú, who isn't quite sure what species he belongs to. And finally, there's Sister Theodora who is writing all this down for us as a penance imposed by the Abbess, and who for all we know may be making some or all of it up. Particularly the bit where she herself is carried off into the action...

Calvino is obviously playing around with ideas of identity and how we define it to ourselves, as well as doing his usual thing of undermining our trust in the narrator, but he's also having fun with our perception of what the Age of Chivalry was like, by reminding us that Charlemagne's army must have been an actual army, with all the practical needs and administrative headaches that armies have in the real world. Roland and the rest wouldn't have been able to do glorious battle without all the farriers and saddlers and armourers and makers of cabbage soup, and somewhere or other there must have been room for boring staff officers with rulebooks to make sure that everyone was in the right place at the right time. Which is probably an insight that has something to do with Calvino's own experience as a communist partisan during the war. His rather less-than-Wagnerian view of the Knights of the Grail also has a distinctly World War II flavour to it... ( )

I haven't read any Calvino but If on a Winter's Night a Traveller, and that was many years ago. I've been meaning to read more for a while, and this book looked so charming that I just had to pick it up.

I have to say, I was a little bit disappointed. The knight character didn't exist, so it isn't like you could be drawn into the story by empathy for him, most of the other characters hardly felt original (partly the point, yes, I know), there was a castle filled with sex-starved ladies that felt more like a Monty Python sketch than anything else, the bit with the nun turning out to be one of the characters from the story was obvious from a mile off, and while the whole deal with the Knights of the Round Table was certainly... different, I had no idea how to feel about it. Was it supposed to be clever? Satirical? Funny? Ironic? I finished the book with a feeling of "well..."

There were some clever bits, and some ways that it was clear that Calvino was poking some fun at some knights and chivalry tropes, but then the book ends with a rape (I'm sorry, but if the woman you're having sex with thinks you're someone else, and wouldn't have consented if she knew your identity, that's rape.) and then the woman falling in love with her rapist.

Ugh. ( )

The Cloven Viscount is a novella by the famed Italian writer Italo Calvino. Together with The Baron in the Trees, and the Nonexistent Knight, it forms Calvino’s popular Our Ancestors Trilogy.

The Cloven Viscount

The Cloven Viscount is a fantastic novella about a Viscount who is exactly as the name implies – cloven. At the start of the novel, an unfortunate accident befalls Viscount Medardo on the battlefield in a war between Christians and Turks.

Miserable upon finding himself split in half, Medardo travels back home to claim his birthright as Viscount of Terralba. Shortly after his arrival, it becomes evident to all who live in the village that the half of Medardo which has returned to the village is his evil half.

Evil Medardo does not waste any time, and busies himself with coming up with ingenious ways of committing malicious acts toward the townspeople. Medardo’s evil half tortures small animals, destroys everything around him, and doesn’t give a second thought to killing or injuring both guilty and innocent people alike.

Like his bad half, Medardo’s good half decided one day, to come back to his hometown. The villagers, who at first could not tell the difference between the two halves, were confused at the Viscount’s sudden change of demeanor and random acts of kindness. They soon realize, to their amazement, that it is Viscount Medardo’s other half – his good half, which was responsible for all the good deeds in the village.

Naturally, his good half is the exact opposite of his evil half. Good Medardo devotes his life to performing selfless acts for the betterment of the community, or so he thinks. He tends to the poor, the weak, and the lame, he counsels and preaches against immoral and impious acts.

As much as the villagers hated living with the evil Medardo in their midst, they also hated having the good Medardo around. Good Medardo’s acts of kindess, to them, was just as bad as evil Medardo’s acts of maliciousness and evil.

Through Medardo’s opposite halves, Italo Calvino illustrates two opposite sides of a person that must co-exist in order for him to be complete. A completely evil person, set on destroying everything around him, will eventually destroy himself, just as a selfless person, who dedicates himself to the woes of other people, with no regard for his own well-being, will eventually hurt himself. A person who is completely good and pious, or is completely evil, cannot and does not exist.

However, in his idea that man has two opposing sides inside him, I feel that Calvino is saying that just as every good person has a cruel, unjust side, a person generally classified as evil must have a good, compassionate side. In this way, I feel that Calvino sees humanity in an optimistic light.

The villagers hatred for evil Medardo, and later, for good Medardo illustrates that an excess of kidness and morality is just as bad as an excess of cruelty. Random acts of kindness, though well meant can lead to harmful conclusions, just as a seemingly cruel act, can sometimes produce good results.

Another aspect of the story, I feel, is the concept of incompleteness brought about by youth and inexperience. In the beginning, it is the Viscount’s youth and inexperience that lead him to the battlefield to his unfortunate accident.

This aspect can also be seen in Medardo’s young nephew, who is also the narrator the story. The young boy fills his days wandering the village and forest, looking for adventures and interesting activities. He is equally fascinated and repelled by both halves of his uncle, and by the other people in the village.

The young narrator admits to youth being a form on incompleteness. He daydreams all day about fantastic stories, and yearns for adventure. In the end, both he and Viscount Medardo are wiser than they were at the beginning of the novel. Unfortunately, unlike his uncle, who is older, and is therefore, more complete, he is disappointed with the eventual onset of adulthood – of having responsibilities and forever chasing after things that can not be attained or understood.
( )

Agilulfo, paladino di Carlomagno, è un cavaliere valoroso e nobile d'animo. Ha un unico difetto: non esiste. O meglio, il suo esistere è limitato all'armatura che indossa: lucida, bianca e... vuota. Non può mangiare, né dormire perché, se si deconcentra anche solo per un attimo, cessa di essere. Una storia ambientata nell'inverosimile medioevo dei romanzi cavallereschi, ma vicina più che mai alla realtà del nostro tempo. Età di lettura: da 11 anni.