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Jan. 29th, 2010 09:59 pm"You see...War...For years now I've been dealing as best I can with a thing that in itself is appalling; war...and all this for ideals which I shall never, perhaps, be able to explain fully to myself..."
"I too," replied Cosimo, "have lived many years for ideals which I would never be able to explain to myself; but I do something entirely good; I live on trees."
I read Baron in the Trees and Absalom, Absalom! to my parents while we were waiting for a kidney for my father, back in the Fall of '97 or '98, one of them. Or maybe I read Baron during his recovery. I remember the page came near the end of Absalom, granting him a dozen more years with us. I've read few books aloud, maybe only Paradise Lost at that length. My father said of Baron that the amazing thing was how far Calvino was able to go with it. It's an act of sustained acrobatics of about the same sort as Cosimo's--and probably Calvino knew that, given how he dovetails trees and writing at the end, finally giving the allegory away.
I wonder if that's part of the (occasional, comfortable) tedium of the book, that the allegory is pitched at so low a key. It's pretty great though, and the message is totally consonant with Calvino's later thoughts on literature, something like: I don't know why this is so great, why it allows me to go everywhere, see more and better, care more, live more, but it does. I do something entirely good; I write books.
But keeping the living on trees = writing/imagining/freely thinking equation (including how there is a mysterious access to Nature through writing, one of Calvino's most touching insistences) in the background is probably a good idea because the notion of living in trees is just absolutely, flooringly cool. The book's sustained on whatever love you can muster for that, despite the greatness of the last chapters. I can muster a lot--also for Frost's "Into My Own" and "Stopping by Woods" for a similar reason. Just flat out disappearing into the trees, whether on paths or in branches, is a notion, an image of escape that has my heart.
But I love the allegory too, and the connection with atheism (well, Deism here). The parallels with Explosion in a Cathedral are fascinating also. That's probably a better book, finally--it is a great, great book--and certainly sustains interest more consistently, but Baron has the better, simpler core, the perfect conceit, even if only the first and last few sections really live up to it.
My father also loved the dog Ottimo Massimo, especially its name. He and my mother met because their families lived next door, and one of their mothers got the other into dachshunds. We inherited the last one and replaced it with others: Max, Maxine, Emily.
"I too," replied Cosimo, "have lived many years for ideals which I would never be able to explain to myself; but I do something entirely good; I live on trees."
I read Baron in the Trees and Absalom, Absalom! to my parents while we were waiting for a kidney for my father, back in the Fall of '97 or '98, one of them. Or maybe I read Baron during his recovery. I remember the page came near the end of Absalom, granting him a dozen more years with us. I've read few books aloud, maybe only Paradise Lost at that length. My father said of Baron that the amazing thing was how far Calvino was able to go with it. It's an act of sustained acrobatics of about the same sort as Cosimo's--and probably Calvino knew that, given how he dovetails trees and writing at the end, finally giving the allegory away.
I wonder if that's part of the (occasional, comfortable) tedium of the book, that the allegory is pitched at so low a key. It's pretty great though, and the message is totally consonant with Calvino's later thoughts on literature, something like: I don't know why this is so great, why it allows me to go everywhere, see more and better, care more, live more, but it does. I do something entirely good; I write books.
But keeping the living on trees = writing/imagining/freely thinking equation (including how there is a mysterious access to Nature through writing, one of Calvino's most touching insistences) in the background is probably a good idea because the notion of living in trees is just absolutely, flooringly cool. The book's sustained on whatever love you can muster for that, despite the greatness of the last chapters. I can muster a lot--also for Frost's "Into My Own" and "Stopping by Woods" for a similar reason. Just flat out disappearing into the trees, whether on paths or in branches, is a notion, an image of escape that has my heart.
But I love the allegory too, and the connection with atheism (well, Deism here). The parallels with Explosion in a Cathedral are fascinating also. That's probably a better book, finally--it is a great, great book--and certainly sustains interest more consistently, but Baron has the better, simpler core, the perfect conceit, even if only the first and last few sections really live up to it.
My father also loved the dog Ottimo Massimo, especially its name. He and my mother met because their families lived next door, and one of their mothers got the other into dachshunds. We inherited the last one and replaced it with others: Max, Maxine, Emily.
