This book turned out to be so different, honestly. I don’t know what I was expecting, perhaps something similar to the books we have read. This book didn’t give us one story like we are used to: a start, middle and end. However, in fact, we got several beginnings of different stories and each time we started getting more invested, or it got compelling to read, it was cut off – creating A LOT of frustration, but now I think that was the point? It almost felt like scrolling through different shows on Netflix and never finishing one. Rather than just “finding out what happens”, I’m forced to focus on the experience of reading. In a sense, Calvino is playing with our feelings.
Until now, we’ve been analyzing different characters each week. For this, it feels strange to do any character analysis because the main character is literally “you”, the reader. Addressing the reader by saying “you”, especially at the beginning of the book, is a first for me. It made me feel like the main character of the story, sort of blurring the line between reality and fiction – you’re somehow outside the novel but also inside. It conveys a certain illusion of control, where we are addressed but don’t actually control anything.
Further, the way attention to the act of reading is given, you could almost argue that it’s portrayed as a desire we have. It also dives into how we read for various reasons, and perhaps the desire to read doesn’t stem from the happiness in finishing the stories, but being immersed in them or in this case, perhaps part of them. Ludmilla read for pleasure and immersion while Lotaira had an analytical approach. It made me think about the way I read and perhaps what I read for.
Additionally, what was most fascinating was how the whole book feels very relatable to how we consume media now. We start shows and don’t finish them, read articles halfway, and all in all constantly interrupted. This sort of fragmented structure mirrors real life, nothing feels complete. Also, made me think about how it portrays how meaning works in our lives. We never get the entire narrative of people’s lives and perspectives, we see only parts, and fill the gaps with assumptions/knowledge as the Reader does. Despite not getting to the end of the embedded stories, the ending felt strangely calm and traditional after all the chaos, making me wonder perhaps the real story isn’t the novels but the act of reading and connection itself.
A feeling I did have was the discomfort of not knowing how things ended. It exposes how dependent we are on solutions and endings, but in fact, Calvino is just reemphasizing this lesson of life that life rarely offers us proper endings. We sort of just learn to move from one start to the next and eventually figure it out as we go. My question is, did you feel something similar? What are your thoughts on this?
Best,
Tripti