Innocence

Penelope Fitzgerald did not start publishing novels until she was over sixty, but then she came out with nine compact volumes, amazingly varied in their setting and subject, but all filled with deep human wisdom. Her two best books, in my opinion, are  THE BLUE FLOWER , set in the Germany of the early Romantics, and  THE BEGINNING OF SPRING , set in Moscow shortly before the Russian Revolution. INNOCENCE takes place around Florence in the nineteen-fifties, when the Italian economy was beginning to re-establish itself after the war. Its leading characters, however, the Ridolfis, are aristocratic holdovers from a much earlier age. The family villa, the Ricordanza, is in disrepair due to lack of funds; the present Conte lives a distinguished but precarious life in a flat in Florence, accompanied by his daughter Chiara when she is home from her convent school in England; the family vineyards are run by her cousin Cesare, a man with few words but a good heart.Near the beginning of this wry comedy (whose quality of romantic excess comes closest to  THE GATE OF ANGELS ), Chiara announces her engagement to a thirty-year-old doctor, Salvatore Rossi, and the larger part of the book shows how this romance came about. Rossi is from the South, a self-made man of humble origins, whose medical vocation was established at the age of ten when his father took him to visit the socialist Antonio Gramsci on his prison deathbed. Both lovers suffer from a stubborn innocence: Chiara in her impulsive generosity, Salvatore in his foolish pride. Their courtship is a whirlwind of misunderstandings; they seem as adept at making themselves miserable as the other happy. Likeable as they are, one wants to pick them up and shake them!Fitzgerald is extraordinary for her ability to immerse herself in every aspect of Italian life of this period. This is far from the tourist Tuscany of fiction, and it is sometimes hard to recall that the book was not written by an Italian. An Italian, moreover, with an extraordinarily wide range of experience, encompassing people from all walks of life: aristocrats, workers, rich, poor, intellectuals, communists, and Vatican officials. It is so full of observations about history, politics, the economy, manners, and regional customs that it might almost be used as a source book. In some ways the texture of the story is more interesting than the story it contains. Fitzgerald does not make it easy for the reader; she expects us to share her knowledge rather than having her explain it -- several quotations, for instance, are left in the original Italian untranslated (it seems they are modified Dante). Despite its brief length and considerable wit, be warned: this can be a challenging book.[Nothing that I can possibly say here is half so good as A. S. Byatt's wonderful account of Fitzgerald's novels in THE THREEPENNY REVIEW, an indispensable essay for anybody interested in this very varied author. It is available on line; select past issues #73.]

INNOCENCE is one of my favorite Penelope Fitzgerald novels, mainly since its characters are 'lighter' in tone, than some of her other fiction. In this tale, the setting is not in England, rather in and around Florence of the mid-20th century and then some. How Ms. Fitzgerald can place a storyline, in a setting not that every-day to her, speaks to her great skill in the craft of fiction writing. As usual, a host of quirky characters meander through a muddle of loosely-relaed events that seek to draw all characters together to affect the denouement, as it ebbs into the typically, abrupt Fitzgerald conclusion.In this novel, a young Florentina pursues the man of her dreams, even though her knowledge of him is absurdly vague and lacking in realistic details that a 'happy' and fruitful future might produce. But such is the way of the meddling, Italian society that drives the storyline. Having come from a noble, yet poverty-stricken family, consisting of an aged and old world father, a dotty old aunt and a naive young woman, the storyline evolves into a series of Italian, emotional and absurd scenarios that lead to the eventual wedding of the happy couple.Mixed in with the father, aunt and daughter is the handsome, respectable and 'correct' doctor, upon which the daughter, fresh from an English boarding school education, is wont to pursue. Said neuro-specialist is as outwardly and inwardly 'sterile' as his intended bride is always at loose ends about life. Both marry to solve the problem of their single status and, thus, find a place in the Florentine society. On the edge of these main characters' bizarre approach to marriage, is the taciturn, yet realistic cousin who runs the family farm; Barney, a horsey, outspoken voice-of-reason, young English woman who arrives to advise her "weedy" former classmate, the daughter, whether or not to marry the handsome, respectable and 'correct' doctor; British neighbors who get caught up in the rumor-mongering society of Florence; and various other equally odd characters to round out the whiffty world of the Italians.As usual, there is no end of ironic humor in this Fitzgerald tale. Every character of the plot is aware of the folly of the bridal pair's intent to marry, but that is the way, as one is lead to believe, of the Florentines. And that is the way that Ms. Fitzgerald loves to entertain her readers, as a tongue-in-cheek observer of all manner of people, doing their damnedest to find a way through their world.Any fan of Penelope Fitzgerald's work will definitely enjoy this work of fiction. Somehow, it's lighter and a bit more positive than her other pieces of fiction.

What is it about Penelope Fitzgerald that makes her novels so distinctive? I have to again cede authority to Julian Barnes and his 2008 review of her published letters in the Guardian. He points out that her targeted research gave her writing unique authenticity. He also points out that she subtly captures in English the language idiosyncrasies of the countries featured in her novels, almost as if she was translating the story into English.In this case, the action takes place mainly in Italy during the decade following World War II. The introductory chapter sets the stage for and provides a contrast to the latter day Ridolfis, while establishing the pertinence of the title. And an awkward, misguided romance between the heiress to the diminished noble family and a poor, young doctor provides the story. The tension comes from the characters' complete misunderstanding of themselves and the impact they have on others.But Fitzgerald's truly unmistakable fingerprint may be that wry sense of humor she deploys so deftly. I'm thinking specifically about Barney's mother at the wedding party (Barney being herself something of fount). Indeed, Lady Jones gets two seven line chapters entirely to herself, and they're both perfect. Fitzgerald also has an uncanny insight into the minds and aspirations of children, evinced here during the boy Salvatore's audience with Gramsci in the hospital.As ever with Fitzgerald, the story isn't exactly the point. It's the writing that sticks with you, and these vivid little moments.

Florence in the 1950s a young couple face the challenge of love. Salvatore and Chiara. Will either be the piece that completes the other’s puzzle?Misunderstandings and misfortunes abound. Families and friends aid and abet a couple who do not make things easy for themselves. The author captures the character and style of Italy in these years. It feels right in atmosphere and detail. It could have been written in Italian and translated.Penelope Fitzgerald excels in creating fictional characters with a few deft strokes. There are many memorable people in Innocence. The very real Antonio Gramsci also plays an important part in the novel. For those who don’t know of Gramsci, he was one of the great socialist thinkers of the 20th century, imprisoned by Mussolini. In the Prison Notebooks he sketched a vision of a better society and a human revolution, in his Prison Letters he addressed the ordinary concerns of men and women.The inclusion of Gramsci shows that the novel is much more than a romantic comedy. An introduction by Julian Barnes discusses its many deeper themes and will be worth a look once you have read the story.The cover of this edition is plain odd, as others have noted. It looks like a stock photo, and a poor cheap one at that, which conveys nothing at all of the novel.

As Julian Barnes writes in the introduction to ‘Innocence’, the first of Penelope Fitzgerald’s four novels set in past times, this is a book that feels outside of fashion, even more now perhaps than when it was published given that even this year’s Booker Prize winner features hard drugs, Yardie gangs and not one, but two, gay hitmen.Set in Florence in 1955, the novel revolves around a down-on-its-luck aristocratic family, the Ridolfis, and in particular the love affair between the reckless 18-year-old Chiara Ridolfi and Salvatore Rossi, a troubled, self-made doctor from a two-lire Southern town. There are no narcotics involved (though the couple do behave as if they are regularly toking on a crack pipe) and the only gun that appears in the story does not even go off. Instead we have an ironic, wonkily funny, tale of human misunderstandings. The Ridolfi family flaw is a ‘tendency to rash decisions…always intended to ensure other people’s happiness’ and the book demonstrates the often bad outcomes of good intentions (reminiscent of Stefan Zweig’s ‘Beware of Pity’).This isn’t a feel-nice comedy of manners, however. Despite its now over-familiar Tuscan setting and the reader-friendly cast of bumbling aristocrats (Fitzgerald’s brilliant next book, ‘The Beginning of Spring’, has a more challenging cast and location), the novel is happy to suggest that misunderstanding and quarreling provide as sound a basis for human relationships as any other (at times, the deadpan absurdities, bickering, and the characters’ relentless scurrying about reminded me of Coen Brothers film). Italy’s Fascist past is not avoided and in one scene, the ten-year-old Salvatore is taken by his Communist father to visit the deformed, tubercular Marxist theoretician Antonio Gramsci. The book is bruised with dark images – legless girls; the blood leaking from the dying Gramsci’s orifices; the statue of a bereaved wife beating on her husband’s grave; massacred doves. Meals are taken but the food hardly mentioned. ‘Culture’, thankfully, features only in passing. People’s responses – particularly those of Chiara’s magnificently stoic farmer cousin, Cesare – are often the opposite of what might be imagined. The writing pulls off the difficult trick of making gnarly, opaque concepts highly readable. Perhaps the only false notes are a scene involving a gathering of somewhat stereotypical novelists, and Chiara’s brutally no-nonsense English friend, the ‘giantess’ Lavinia Barnes, who can come across a tad jolly hockeysticks, a proto-Margot Leadbetter.The book's cover, however, is all-out terrible, cheap and empty, and the designer should be ashamed.

Gentle and profound.

I don't particularly admire her writing style, and find most of the characters pretty one dimensional and not very appealing. Half way through the book ( it is taking ages to get through it) there is quite a funny passage. Maybe it will get better from now on.

For some reason I thought this would be a 'difficult' read but it wasn't at all, a ripping yarn about a young girl growing up in Florence and her rather dysfunctional but loving family. It has a Jane Austenish feel to it, and humour as well, and is extremely readable.