Thursday, 29 May 2014

THE HUMAN COMEDY BY WILLIAM SAROYAN - THE HARD TASK OF GROWING UP



It’s a story built on very simple facts, very ordinary people, very simple words which aims at transforming history and reality into unheroic epic mythology. That of everyday battles and sufferings. It is a story set in California in the time of WWII but it is actually a story beyond space and time. Homer
the 16-year-old protagonist, Ulysses, his little brother,  and Marcus, his elder brother at war. They live in Ithaca, San Joaquin Valley, California. They’ve got a sister and a mother. But there are no heroes. The Macauleys’ struggles and dreams reflect those of America’s second generation immigrants but-  and especially- also  those of any human being at any time in any place. No , they are not heroic epic figures but real life protagonists of  THE HUMAN COMEDY (1943).

Homer  is the protagonist, in his teen, determined to become the fastest telegraph messenger in the West, happy to be the man of the family in a difficult moment. Happy to ride his bycicle in the wind. But it’s wartime. Time to grow – up for him. Childhood ends when we realize sufference and death exist and are there inescapably for all of us. Homer becomes aware of that little by little: he is a messenger of death. A mother opens the door, he gives her a telegram and …

“It wasn’t  Homer fault. His work was to deliver telegrams. Even so, he felt awkward and almost as if he alone were responsible for what had happened (… )He was on his bycicle suddenly, riding swiftly down the dark street, tears coming out of his eyes, his mouth whispering crazy young curses. When he got back to the telegraph office the tears had stopped, but everything else had started and he knew there would be no stopping them” (pp.26/28)




(Homer and Ulysses playing)

Marcus's letter to Homer

“Dear Homer: First of all. everything of mine at home is yours – to give to Ulysses when you no longer want them : my books, my phonogram, my records, my clothes when you’re ready to fit into them, my bycicle, my microscope, my fishing tackle, my collection of rocks from Piedra, and all the other things of mine at home. They’re yours because you are now the man of the Macauley family of Ithaca. The money I made last year at the packing house I have given to Ma of course, to help out. It is not nearly enough, though. I don’t know how you are going to be able to keep our family together and go to high school at the same time, But I believe you will find a way. My army pay goes to Ma, except for a few dollars that I must have, but this money is not enough either. It isn’t easy for me to hope for so much from you, when I myself did not begin to work until I was 19, but somehow I believe that you will be able to do what I didn’t do.
I miss you of course and I think of you all the time. I am OK and even though I have never believed in wars – and know them foolish even when they are necessary – I am proud that I am involved, since so many others are and this is what’s happening. I do not recognize any enemy which is human, for no human being can be my enemy. Whoever he is, he is my friend. My quarrel is not with him, but with that unfortunate part of him which I seek to destroy in myself first.
I do not feel like a hero. I have no talent for such feelings. I hate no one. I do not feel patriotic either, for I have always loved my country, its people, its towns, my home, and my family. I would rather I were not in the Army. I would rather there were no War. I have no idea what is ahead, but whatever it is I am resigned and ready for it. I’m terribly afraid – I must tell you this – but I believe that when the time comes I shall do what is right for me. I shall obey no command other than the command of my own heart. (…)
More than anything I want to come back to Ithaca. I want to come back for Mary and a family of my own. We leave soon – for action, but nobody knows where the action will be. Therefore this maybe my last letter to you for some time. I hope it’s not the last of all, but if it is, hold us together. (…) I am glad I am the Macauley who is involved in this War, for it would be a pity and a mistake if it were you.
I can say in a letter what I could never say in speech. You are the best of the Macauleys. Nothing must stop you. Now I’ll write your name here, to remind you: Homer Macauley. That’s who you are. I miss you. I can’t wait to see you again. God bless you. So long. Your brother, Marcus” (pp. 166 -168)

 
 
THE HUMAN COMEDY (novel)
 

NOT IN ENGLISH BUT ... BARICCO ON SAROYAN




“The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.” ― Italo CalvinoInvisible Cities

1 comment:

  1. Prof la citazione di Calvino la dovevi lasciare in italiano.....rende di più! :P

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