Goliarda Sapienza - The Art of Joy

Jacopo: ‘… Astounding, young Brandiforti! Your ability to learn, undoubtedly related to your unusual height, is astounding. If I were not aware of your tender age, for obvious reasons, I would be led to believe that you are a wise old man masquerading as a child.’

Bambù: ‘That was in June. If you continue growing like that, by October he, too, will have to raise his eyes to look you in the face.’

Jacopo: ‘In the face? The impropriety of your language is astounding, my gentle little lass! “Face” is almost as vulgar as saying “snout”! “Countenance” is what you should have said, by gum, by golly! Besides it’s not true, Bambù, you can’t alarm me like that, you little Satan! You can’t just toss out such an insinuation between a pastry and a smile. Or have I really grown? Oh dear God! I see the carpet as if from an airplane. Prando, get up! There, look at Prando, Bambù. He’s even taller than me.’

Bambù: ‘For another three weeks, maybe. But afterwards, so much for Prando’s supremacy. Prando will have to pass it on to you. Look at him. Why are you stooping like that? I like tall people.’

Jacopo: ‘Give me another cup of tea. You’ve ruined my afternoon! I’m not all that eager to grow, Bambù. It’s so nice being here with all of you. Sometimes I dream that someone measures me in the headmaster’s anteroom, of all places, and then orders me to leave you and this house!’

Prando: ‘You dream too much, Jacopo!’

Jacopo: ‘And to make matters worse, I cry in the dream.’

Prando: ‘So then, Joyce is right! Or has she influenced you with her talk? I don’t believe this stuff about dreams.’

Jacopo: ‘I do, though. When she told me, I realized that it was true, and that my habit of stooping is a sign that I don’t want to grow.’

Prando: ‘Baloney! It’s that you’re lazy.’

Jacopo: ‘And yet I try to make an effort and stand up straight. Still, you can’t avoid growing up and then getting old and then … Just thinking about it, for me at least … well, I’m afraid of growing up because I’m afraid of dying.’

Prando: ‘Now that I think of it, I was afraid of growing up too at your age, but I didn’t dream about it. It was a waking fear, what with all the talk about pointless wars. I was afraid I’d be sent off in uniform to some faraway place, to shoot at boys like me.’

’Ntoni: ‘You too, Prando? That’s incredible! I, on the other hand, have always been impatient to grow up. Even now, I can’t wait to turn twenty.’

Prando: ‘No offence, ’Ntoni, but you are oblivious like all artists. Look at Mela. As soon as you talk about real things, her eyes start tracing musical motifs.’

Mela: ‘That’s not true, I was listening…’

Prando: ‘Just look how pretty our Mela has become, hasn’t she, Bambù?’

’Ntoni: ‘Oh, stop it, Prando, you can’t just call me oblivious like that! Ingratitude, that’s all you get from the world! And to think that I chose you as a model of fearlessness.’

Prando: ‘And you were mistaken, my dear ’Ntoni, because even today, subconsciously, as Joyce says, that fear has remained with me. Andrea made me aware of it.’

Bambù: ‘What did that killjoy make you aware of?’

Prando: ‘Here comes our Bambolina to the attack! I could tell you wouldn’t like him, which is exactly why I never let him come here. Besides, the one time he came, he was disappointed.’

Bambù: ‘Disappointed in what? Tell us. Disappointed in me?’

Prando: ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t you. Who can escape your allure? He told me man to man that when I’m here with all of you, I become dull-witted, that I talk and act like a spoiled brat. That’s what.’

Bambù: ‘Don’t you see I’m right? See how obnoxious your Andrea is and how he causes trouble wherever he goes? He’s a sour, crabby old man! Why on earth do you hang around with friends who are so much older than you?’

Prando: ‘I see from your reaction that Andrea is right when he says that it was the sensible side of my nature that made me look for something outside of this house, to get away from your stultifying effect. There’s no way a person can grow in this house, by God!’

Bambù: ‘Andrea is not right! You insult us by submitting to him in a way that disappoints me, Prando. Your Andrea is nothing but an envious, loathsome character. That’s what he is!’

Prando: ‘He’s not loathsome! It’s just that to you — and lucky you! if you can preserve this quality — anything serious is loathsome! I’m not criticizing you. I like you that way, and you cheer us up in these dark times. But you should be careful not to make superficial judgements, because if you judge Andrea that way, you also implicate me in your judgement. It’s hard to be twenty years old nowadays, Bambolina!’

Bambù: ‘You’re not twenty.’

Prando: ‘Seventeen; it’s the same thing! You’re making me lose my patience, Bambù, Judas Priest! And whereas I, and you Jacopo, and you, ’Ntoni, have had the benefit of being surrounded by anti-fascists, all Andrea, Fausto and Ardito have had is the prospect of being balillas 94at age five, Fascists at ten and extreme Fascists at seventeen. Yet despite this, through their own efforts, paid for at their own expense, against their families and their schooling, they began to doubt, and from that doubt just a few months ago at the Littoriali in Naples they progressed to opposition. Do you know what their motto is for next year’s Littoriali here in Palermo? “Antiracist, anti-German”. And do you know what it means to think and act accordingly for students who are poor or nearly so, who have no protection? They returned from Naples excited just by having met a few other young people like themselves. That’s why I decided to ask Mama to allow me to take part in the Palermo Littoriali , though I know she’s against it.’

Bambù: ‘But you’ll have to wear the uniform and get a party membership card!’

Prando: ‘Oh, enough of this blackmail, Bambù! You too, Mama, stop it!’

Modesta: ‘Stop what, Prando?’

Prando: ‘Stop pressuring me with those misgivings that cause you older people to watch our every move. You heap on us the qualms you should only apply to your failed past! You failed to oppose Fascism, and now you fear for us only because you judge us by your impotence at that time. And though I didn’t intend to make a speech — I swear I didn’t but here we are — I’ll tell you right now that even if it means getting a card and wearing the uniform, I’m going to Palermo. I want to meet this Trombadori, this Melograni 95whom Andrea can’t stop talking about. And he’s right. The time is past to fight outside the party, targeted like rats and thrown in jail … they arrest them by the hundreds, by the hundreds! It’s from inside, from within the very structures of Fascism that we must fight!’

He slammed his fist on the table. Crispina jumped, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Her wide-eyed gaze flies from Prando to Jacopo.

Jacopo: ‘Don’t be scared, Crispina. They’re just talking. Come here to your uncle’s arms and let’s see how the discussion will end.’

Bambù: ‘Really, Prando, you frightened her banging your fists on the table like that.’

Mela: ‘She doesn’t look scared at all. I was more frightened, in the early days.’

Bambù: ‘But you were big. Crispina is little.He shouldn’t do that!’

Jacopo: ‘But he should, right, Crispina? He should; your uncle Jacopo says it’s right. In fact, you listen to them argue now, and later you, too, will be good at debating and answering back.’

Mela: ‘That’s so true, Jacopo! I’ve made a lot of progress since I left the orphanage, but even today … Now I know what I want to say but it won’t come out. I can’t say what I’m thinking quickly enough in the moment. Afterwards the answer may come to me in bed, but it’s too late.’