How many of you were waiting for the merchant to mention Renzo?
His exit out of town reminded me of the kids’ footsteps in the old Family Circus cartoon, winding here and there. Travel 12 miles and still be only 6 from the city.
A key element in this chapter is Lorenzo's state of hypervigilance, constantly on the qui vive and alert for danger. In cinematic terms, his fugitive status lends itself to a feel of film noir. It is also a good example of Manzoni's ability to change register, as in the previous chapter there was sometimes a comedic mood, à la Buster Keaton.
I liked Manzoni's metaphor of 'like crows to an abandoned battlefield' in describing those who might flock into the city after hearing about the rioting. It reminded me of a similar analogy in Hugo's Les misérables when he recounted the aftermath of Waterloo. Come to think of it, Lorenzo's situation, his plight and flight, is not too dissimilar to that of Jean Valjean in Hugo's novel.
Earlier, in Chapter 11, Don Rodrigo is busy planning the abduction of Lucia and scoffs at the interference of Renzo, the friar, or Agnes, about whom he says, "Off to Bergamo with her." (vada a Bergamo la vecchia). Is this an idiom for going to hell???? I was just wondering.....
What an interesting connection this is: "Renzo’s flight from the authorities, with the encouragement of the passersby, echoes the much earlier flight of Ludovico to the monastery (Chapter 4)" -- it amplifies the significance of Renzo's preference for being a bird in the wild to being a bird in a cage, suggesting that taking refuge in the monastery might imply a lifelong commitment that he doesn't want to make -- I had wondered at this impulsive decision, and this connection gives it more foundation.
Interesting too bringing in Dickens, who has been haunting my reading ever since the revolutionary scenes began, but I can't help wondering whether we should call Dickens' descriptions and evocations "Manzonian," instead of the other way around.
And just to love another moment of delightful wisdom from the narrator: "Indeed, for a man in trouble, everything turns into a new source of trouble!"
Manzoni leaves bread crumbs (please excuse the pun) all along the way as he creates suspense and the premonition that our poor, confused and disoriented but still naively trusting Renzo will be found out.
The breadcrumbs …
- Renzo looked to speak to the first traveler whose face he liked, “as he had in Milan”, pocketed a piece of bread after his meal, and later ordered a quarter bottle of wine.
- The host of the Gorgonzola inn described where “good citizens … people who can give a proper account of themselves” cross the Adda, and stared at Renzo “with eyes full of sly curiosity.“
- The newly arrived merchant at the inn described the events in Milan, “And I haven’t told you everything by the way. The best bit is still to come. … the people who made most of the trouble were all strangers … the police caught one of these fellows in an inn … they all get caught in the end, very often just when they least expect it.”
- And finally, from one of the other guests, “I knew very well how these things always turn out, and how wrong it is for good citizens to get mixed up in riots.“
(Separate note: Different experiences, but I am reminded of the beloved Ishmael and Queequeg in the Spouter-Inn as we read about Renzo in the Full Moon and in the Gorgonzola inn.)
I loved everyone’s comments today. I also was reminded of Les Miz, a fairy-tale vibe with the spinning wheel, and Dickens. But I hadn’t thought of Ishmael and Queequeg in the Spouter Inn. Perfect.
More of Manzoni’s similes and aphorisms: “He was like someone who had signed a stack of blank checks ...after learning that the man was a swindler.” “The more you sweep, the higher the dirt heap.” “You can’t both sing in the choir and carry the cross.”
How brilliantly Manzoni moves the morality meter. When he first arrives in Milan, Renzo is an honest man. And by the end of this chapter, he is a villain that needs to be hung. Manzoni twists the dial in nearly imperceptible increments so the reader is left, like Renzo, wondering: "How did this happen?"
without losing sight of the larger picture, I've been trying to recall certain phrases that I latch onto...yesterday, it was the "stubborn mountain boy"...today, is "glimmer of hope"...from before that, I'm lost, but some objects have remained with me, from the very small like the burrs on the handcuffs, to the larger scale like the castle...and since actions happen on parallel tracks, I'm trying to keep in mind the Nun, as well. It's this point in the book, where I feel that it could stand up to multiple re-readings.
"Do you think they’d give up such a convenient practice of their own free will? And let me tell you, for an honest man who keeps his shop open, it’s not a very comforting thought!”
I can't help but sympathize for the shopkeepers, bakers and innkeepers, caught at the center of this class struggle because they are so vital. They aren't nobles, and have had the gumption to develop these enterprises that can be turned to ashes in a day.
Things are getting very complicated for our hero as he makes his way without knowing in which direction he’s headed. He does well to suspect even the wine.
I've been grateful indeed for the clear and elegant map in the front pages!
I'm struck by how competent Renzo is when in his homeland--and how vulnerable in Milan. He's not foolish or necessarily overtrusting by nature; he just doesn't know the rules outside his territory.
catching up. I know Renzo HAS to survive anything he goes through in these middle pages because of the title of the book and him being a main character but HOW he survives it is very moving, an incredible portrait of a young man in love who is swept up by history. also, love the sense of solitude and little victories like spending the night in the hut and having a tavern meal.
How many of you were waiting for the merchant to mention Renzo?
His exit out of town reminded me of the kids’ footsteps in the old Family Circus cartoon, winding here and there. Travel 12 miles and still be only 6 from the city.
A key element in this chapter is Lorenzo's state of hypervigilance, constantly on the qui vive and alert for danger. In cinematic terms, his fugitive status lends itself to a feel of film noir. It is also a good example of Manzoni's ability to change register, as in the previous chapter there was sometimes a comedic mood, à la Buster Keaton.
I liked Manzoni's metaphor of 'like crows to an abandoned battlefield' in describing those who might flock into the city after hearing about the rioting. It reminded me of a similar analogy in Hugo's Les misérables when he recounted the aftermath of Waterloo. Come to think of it, Lorenzo's situation, his plight and flight, is not too dissimilar to that of Jean Valjean in Hugo's novel.
Earlier, in Chapter 11, Don Rodrigo is busy planning the abduction of Lucia and scoffs at the interference of Renzo, the friar, or Agnes, about whom he says, "Off to Bergamo with her." (vada a Bergamo la vecchia). Is this an idiom for going to hell???? I was just wondering.....
I noticed the quick interlude where Renzo enters an inn to find a woman spinning, and got some stracchino cheese. It gave me a fairy-tale vibe. And made me look up the cheese: https://www.lacucinaitaliana.com/glossary/stracchino-cheese
What an interesting connection this is: "Renzo’s flight from the authorities, with the encouragement of the passersby, echoes the much earlier flight of Ludovico to the monastery (Chapter 4)" -- it amplifies the significance of Renzo's preference for being a bird in the wild to being a bird in a cage, suggesting that taking refuge in the monastery might imply a lifelong commitment that he doesn't want to make -- I had wondered at this impulsive decision, and this connection gives it more foundation.
Interesting too bringing in Dickens, who has been haunting my reading ever since the revolutionary scenes began, but I can't help wondering whether we should call Dickens' descriptions and evocations "Manzonian," instead of the other way around.
And just to love another moment of delightful wisdom from the narrator: "Indeed, for a man in trouble, everything turns into a new source of trouble!"
Manzoni leaves bread crumbs (please excuse the pun) all along the way as he creates suspense and the premonition that our poor, confused and disoriented but still naively trusting Renzo will be found out.
The breadcrumbs …
- Renzo looked to speak to the first traveler whose face he liked, “as he had in Milan”, pocketed a piece of bread after his meal, and later ordered a quarter bottle of wine.
- The host of the Gorgonzola inn described where “good citizens … people who can give a proper account of themselves” cross the Adda, and stared at Renzo “with eyes full of sly curiosity.“
- The newly arrived merchant at the inn described the events in Milan, “And I haven’t told you everything by the way. The best bit is still to come. … the people who made most of the trouble were all strangers … the police caught one of these fellows in an inn … they all get caught in the end, very often just when they least expect it.”
- And finally, from one of the other guests, “I knew very well how these things always turn out, and how wrong it is for good citizens to get mixed up in riots.“
(Separate note: Different experiences, but I am reminded of the beloved Ishmael and Queequeg in the Spouter-Inn as we read about Renzo in the Full Moon and in the Gorgonzola inn.)
I loved everyone’s comments today. I also was reminded of Les Miz, a fairy-tale vibe with the spinning wheel, and Dickens. But I hadn’t thought of Ishmael and Queequeg in the Spouter Inn. Perfect.
More of Manzoni’s similes and aphorisms: “He was like someone who had signed a stack of blank checks ...after learning that the man was a swindler.” “The more you sweep, the higher the dirt heap.” “You can’t both sing in the choir and carry the cross.”
i'm wondering what "honest wine" means—i can imagine—and what is the original italian; i assume "vino onesto"
How brilliantly Manzoni moves the morality meter. When he first arrives in Milan, Renzo is an honest man. And by the end of this chapter, he is a villain that needs to be hung. Manzoni twists the dial in nearly imperceptible increments so the reader is left, like Renzo, wondering: "How did this happen?"
without losing sight of the larger picture, I've been trying to recall certain phrases that I latch onto...yesterday, it was the "stubborn mountain boy"...today, is "glimmer of hope"...from before that, I'm lost, but some objects have remained with me, from the very small like the burrs on the handcuffs, to the larger scale like the castle...and since actions happen on parallel tracks, I'm trying to keep in mind the Nun, as well. It's this point in the book, where I feel that it could stand up to multiple re-readings.
"Do you think they’d give up such a convenient practice of their own free will? And let me tell you, for an honest man who keeps his shop open, it’s not a very comforting thought!”
I can't help but sympathize for the shopkeepers, bakers and innkeepers, caught at the center of this class struggle because they are so vital. They aren't nobles, and have had the gumption to develop these enterprises that can be turned to ashes in a day.
Things are getting very complicated for our hero as he makes his way without knowing in which direction he’s headed. He does well to suspect even the wine.
I've been grateful indeed for the clear and elegant map in the front pages!
I'm struck by how competent Renzo is when in his homeland--and how vulnerable in Milan. He's not foolish or necessarily overtrusting by nature; he just doesn't know the rules outside his territory.
catching up. I know Renzo HAS to survive anything he goes through in these middle pages because of the title of the book and him being a main character but HOW he survives it is very moving, an incredible portrait of a young man in love who is swept up by history. also, love the sense of solitude and little victories like spending the night in the hut and having a tavern meal.