• Title: Places of My Infancy: A Memory
  • Author: Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa
  • ISBN: null
  • Page: 123
  • Format: None
  • Places of My Infancy A Memory Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa s brief but brilliant writing career lasted a mere two years before he succumbed to lung cancer In that time he produced one novel The Leopard three stories and the begin
    Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa s brief but brilliant writing career lasted a mere two years before he succumbed to lung cancer In that time he produced one novel The Leopard three stories, and the beginning of a memoir, Places of my Infancy, a tour of Lampedusa s family estates in Sicily at the turn of 20th century For me childhood was a lost paradise, writes LampeduGiuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa s brief but brilliant writing career lasted a mere two years before he succumbed to lung cancer In that time he produced one novel The Leopard three stories, and the beginning of a memoir, Places of my Infancy, a tour of Lampedusa s family estates in Sicily at the turn of 20th century For me childhood was a lost paradise, writes Lampedusa I was king of the home Lampedusa gives lush, intimate descriptions of the estates in town and country the home with its one hundred rooms, its garden with fountains full of eels, its church, its theater where wandering country theater groups would perform, the maids and the groundskeepers, and Lampedusa s own family members Each detail from his mother s silver comb to his father s camera owned in 1900 unlocks a memory of some event from the era.

    One Reply to “Places of My Infancy: A Memory”

    1. Looking for a small book in size to read on the subway trips from Manhattan to Bushwick, I picked up the elegant Gluseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa's miniture memoir of his childhood "Places of My Infancy." The most remarkable aspect of this book is that its not about people. Its about his home or one should say estate in Italy during the turn of the Century. Reading this I reminded of "Against Nature" by Huysmann, but this is the real deal. At least through the eyes of an adult looking back at his li [...]

    2. Giuseppe Tomasi (1896 – 1957) was the last prince of Lampedusa. Since I am a product of mid-twentieth century, middle-class America, you might as well tell me that this man came from the planet Neptune. I have no context in which to comprehend his heritage or his life. He saw the end of the family line. After the First World War, their fortunes began to crumble. In the next war, Allied bombers destroyed their palace in Palermo, and a ruinous lawsuit over his father’s inheritance had left Tom [...]

    3. Maybe it's a result of living in the 21st century and looking back on bloated aristocratic events such as these in distaste, but this book is lacking otherwise. When I began reading the shorty, I was expecting a dissection of memory and loss, "memories of early childhood consist of a series of visual impressions, many very clear but lacking any sense of chronology". Unfortunately, I never found this topic discussed beyond the first chapter, in which the author oddly sets up the rest of the story [...]

    4. This is a lovely little gem of an autobiographical fragment, interrupted by di Lampedusa's untimely death from cancer. The advance reader's copy it was my misfortune to read (perplexingly advertised as "translated from the Japanese"), replete with spelling errors, typos, and missing words, still managed to engage my interest. My single favorite moment is this somewhat suggestive passage: "In autumn our walks had as a goal the vinyard of Toto Ferrara, where we would sit on stones and eat the swee [...]

    5. A prince writing fondly about his childhood memories. It's an odd mixture of a sweet, nostalgic tone that you might find in any childhood memoir, but the details are of extravagant palaces that are often decadent and ridiculous. de Lampedusa's spoiled life was shattered by WWI, clearly the defining incident in his life, and it seems to have given him both a longing for the pre-war sheltered lifestyle and also some appreciation for how trivial it was.

    6. A small book, filled with memories of childhood as Italian aristocracy. Somehow both boring and beautiful all at once. Proustian at times, recommended. Will track down his only novel.

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