Bruno Pischedda (Universitŕ degli Studi di Milano)
1970 – 1980: The Decade of Pessimism
Stories of catastrophe appear frequently in the Italian literature of the second half of the twentieth century. There were at least three main reasons behind such a peculiar “genre”: growing cold war tensions between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. and the impending risk of atomic confrontation; the oil crisis of Winter 1974 and the ensuing policies of so-called “austerity,” aimed at reducing both public and private consumption; the consistent success, within Italy, of a full-fledged mass civilization, pleasure-seeking, class-free, americanophile – a form of society which writer-intellectuals failed to appreciate. All three elements intertwine, although in different fashions and with different motifs, in the apocalyptic novels of this period. We can find gloomy representations of catastrophe, conducted along specific points of view or eschatological prophecies narrated in a traditional style. For literature, we can’t pinpoint a real “type,” or genre, that is immediately clear and codified. And yet, a theme seems to criss-cross the entire corpus: the experience of a voyage amidst the ruins and a rambling contemplation of the disaster. It’s as if we have witnessed a disphorical overturn of the picaresque tradition, where the shrewd vitality of the protagonist is now embittered by a lament (at times even relished) of the End.
1970 – 1980: The Decade of Pessimism
Stories of catastrophe appear frequently in the Italian literature of the second half of the twentieth century. There were at least three main reasons behind such a peculiar “genre”: growing cold war tensions between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. and the impending risk of atomic confrontation; the oil crisis of Winter 1974 and the ensuing policies of so-called “austerity,” aimed at reducing both public and private consumption; the consistent success, within Italy, of a full-fledged mass civilization, pleasure-seeking, class-free, americanophile – a form of society which writer-intellectuals failed to appreciate. All three elements intertwine, although in different fashions and with different motifs, in the apocalyptic novels of this period. We can find gloomy representations of catastrophe, conducted along specific points of view or eschatological prophecies narrated in a traditional style. For literature, we can’t pinpoint a real “type,” or genre, that is immediately clear and codified. And yet, a theme seems to criss-cross the entire corpus: the experience of a voyage amidst the ruins and a rambling contemplation of the disaster. It’s as if we have witnessed a disphorical overturn of the picaresque tradition, where the shrewd vitality of the protagonist is now embittered by a lament (at times even relished) of the End.
