"Let me tell you, son, that he who lies to his lawyer is a fool who’ll tell the truth to the judge."
Haha. As a lawyer, I can tell you that in a sense, this is a legitimate way to put it. The advice can also carry various meanings. The most obvious modern connotation, that did not exist when The Betrothed was composed, is to Miranda warnings and the related advice any competent lawyer will give someone under arrest: to remain silent. Underlying this, is the Fifth Amendment's right of a criminal defendant to refuse to testify.
Maybe something that defines a classic is its eternal relevance, even attracting new meanings and interpretations as the epochs pass.
Likewise, the exchange with Argle-Bargle is so funny, and what a thrill when nearly 200 years later and across oceans and continents, a work of humor remains as humorous as ever.
“In the end there is justice in this world.” Repeating “the same strange words” is Renzo’s only consolation. But where will this justice come from? The narrator issues a warning--“For a man overcome by grief truly does not know what he is saying.”
The lawyer seemed so biased against Renzo from the outset that I wonder what help he ever could have been to Agnes.
Also, as Michael mentioned yesterday, it is awesome to see Lucia’s resourcefulness. Amazing what a few extra walnuts can do… (wonder if that was meant to be a double entendre!)
"This image has entered into Italian speech as “non fare come icapponi di Renzo,” don’t act like Renzo’s capons. In other words, don’t go getting mixed up in a desperate situation. It’s useless." Lucky chickens! Immortalized forever!!!
I might just be paranoid, but the lawyer may be able to read the letter of the law, but he doesn't seem to understand the spirit of it (nor obviously, to apply it properly). This might be too meta, but very much like translation, a faithful rendering is rarely beautiful, while a beautiful translation is rarely faithful. This translation is definitely.... alive. It seems then, that we have to read against the last line in this section — the aggrieved, emotionally piqued as they commonly are, actually do know what they are saying. I'm partial to Renzo, even with his wild and manic gyrations, over anyone else in the story at the moment.
What do we make of the immediate termination of Renzo’s audience with the lawyer (Doctor “Quibbler”) upon the mention of the name “Don Rodrigo”? Feels ominous to me.
This novel is so enrapturing and readable! There used to be that readability index that folks referred to, with Henry James as the most 'unreadable' which I get (other than Portrait of a Lady) and Hemingway as most readable. I tend to like my fiction with more digressions / philo asides (like Moravia) but also gravitate towards novels that have a strong social / historical context (while not historical novels which always seem to imply facts, dates, and learning stuff as if you're in school).
“History does not tell us that they mourned the dead man, or that his relatives wept over him.”
One of my favorite sentences so far. Makes me think of the theorist and filmmaker Trinh T. Minh-ha when she writes about the difference between history and literature: “Literature and history once were/still are stories: this does not necessarily mean that the space they form is undifferentiated, but that this space can articulate on a different set of principles, one which may be said to stand outside the hierarchical realm of facts.”
Are the footnotes part of the novel's text or were the footnotes added?
I kept them to a bare minimum, when a brief explanation felt necessary. Manzoni also had an occasional footnote.
Thank you!
“He kept repeating...’In the end there is justice in the world.’ For a man overcome by grief truly does not know what he is saying “
"Let me tell you, son, that he who lies to his lawyer is a fool who’ll tell the truth to the judge."
Haha. As a lawyer, I can tell you that in a sense, this is a legitimate way to put it. The advice can also carry various meanings. The most obvious modern connotation, that did not exist when The Betrothed was composed, is to Miranda warnings and the related advice any competent lawyer will give someone under arrest: to remain silent. Underlying this, is the Fifth Amendment's right of a criminal defendant to refuse to testify.
Maybe something that defines a classic is its eternal relevance, even attracting new meanings and interpretations as the epochs pass.
Likewise, the exchange with Argle-Bargle is so funny, and what a thrill when nearly 200 years later and across oceans and continents, a work of humor remains as humorous as ever.
“In the end there is justice in this world.” Repeating “the same strange words” is Renzo’s only consolation. But where will this justice come from? The narrator issues a warning--“For a man overcome by grief truly does not know what he is saying.”
The lawyer seemed so biased against Renzo from the outset that I wonder what help he ever could have been to Agnes.
Also, as Michael mentioned yesterday, it is awesome to see Lucia’s resourcefulness. Amazing what a few extra walnuts can do… (wonder if that was meant to be a double entendre!)
"This image has entered into Italian speech as “non fare come icapponi di Renzo,” don’t act like Renzo’s capons. In other words, don’t go getting mixed up in a desperate situation. It’s useless." Lucky chickens! Immortalized forever!!!
I might just be paranoid, but the lawyer may be able to read the letter of the law, but he doesn't seem to understand the spirit of it (nor obviously, to apply it properly). This might be too meta, but very much like translation, a faithful rendering is rarely beautiful, while a beautiful translation is rarely faithful. This translation is definitely.... alive. It seems then, that we have to read against the last line in this section — the aggrieved, emotionally piqued as they commonly are, actually do know what they are saying. I'm partial to Renzo, even with his wild and manic gyrations, over anyone else in the story at the moment.
It depends on how you interpret the word “faithful.” To the letter and the spirit?
What do we make of the immediate termination of Renzo’s audience with the lawyer (Doctor “Quibbler”) upon the mention of the name “Don Rodrigo”? Feels ominous to me.
Agreed. Is the lawyer scared? Or on the take? Or something even more sinister…
Don Rodrigo likely inspires fear wherever he treads, and beyond as well.
This novel is so enrapturing and readable! There used to be that readability index that folks referred to, with Henry James as the most 'unreadable' which I get (other than Portrait of a Lady) and Hemingway as most readable. I tend to like my fiction with more digressions / philo asides (like Moravia) but also gravitate towards novels that have a strong social / historical context (while not historical novels which always seem to imply facts, dates, and learning stuff as if you're in school).
maybe "readable" is an old iteration of the newer and equally ridiculous "relatable" -- both irrelevant to engaging an actual text
The ban against forelocks reminded me of bans against hoodies in schools. :(
“History does not tell us that they mourned the dead man, or that his relatives wept over him.”
One of my favorite sentences so far. Makes me think of the theorist and filmmaker Trinh T. Minh-ha when she writes about the difference between history and literature: “Literature and history once were/still are stories: this does not necessarily mean that the space they form is undifferentiated, but that this space can articulate on a different set of principles, one which may be said to stand outside the hierarchical realm of facts.”
I love those capons! so happy to hear them immortalized. And the walnuts too. A nourishing chapter.
And especially the revelation of Lucia's cleverness