Tuesday, 24 February 2009

Ocean Sea

Sabbia a perdita d'occhio, tra le ultime colline e il mare -il mare- nell'aria fredda di un pomeriggio quasi passato, e benedetto dal vento che sempre soffia da nord.
La spiaggia. E il mare.

The very beginning of Oceano mare, by Alessandro Baricco
(Sand as far as the eye can see, between the last hills, and the sea -the sea- in the cold air of an afternoon almost past, and blessed by the wind that always bow from the north. The beach. And the sea. translated byAlastair McEwen)

I would never dare to translate Alessandro Baricco. Never.
Because I love him, I adore him as an intellectual and as a novelist.
Ocean Sea is one of my favourite books, maybe my favourite book. I've read it many years ago, and I re-read it sometimes, when I need to read something beautiful.
Ocean Sea is a story, but it is also made of many different stories, one for each character, at least. Baricco's characters are always peculiar: children almost like angels, scientists involved in absurd researches, sailors that can tell marvellous stories without speaking, painters who use water instead of colours...

The story is set around a place called Locanda Almayer, the characters arrive here for different reason, but here they all find the sea, and that will complicate or finally solve their lives.
Questo è un posto che quasi non esiste. E se chiedi della locanda Almayer, la gente ti guarda sorpresa, e non sa.

Oceano mare, by Alessandro Baricco

When you read Baricco's stories, either this one, or any other, you must remember that nothing is there by chance, not even punctuation. The use of lay-out and punctuation is one of his main characteristic, in his novels you can find very long sentence (more than a page) and very short ones. The organization on the page tries to represent the scene he is describing, to emphasize words, and so it is a kind of description without the usual devices.
Spiaggia. E il mare.
Il vento dal nord.
Il silenzio delle maree.
Giorni. Notti.
La prima cosa è il mio nome,
la prima cosa è il
mio nome, la seconda quegli occhi,
la prima cosa è il
mio nome, la seconda quegli occhi, la terza è un pensiero,la quarta la notte che viene,
Oceano mare, by Alessandro Baricco

The narrator plays an important role in Baricco's novel, it is a voice that follows all the stories and knows many things about the characters, s/he sometimes stops the narrations to tell external stories or to explain why they are behaving in a particular way. Humor is another great characteristic of Baricco's style, he underlines situations in order to make the reader smile.

Pensa rimugina e riflette e ragiona. Poi di scatto salta giù dal davanzale. Dalla parte della camera, s'intende. Bisognerebbe avere le ali per saltare giù dall'altra.
Rimane lì il bambino con gli occhi fissi sul mare. Ci resta per un po'. Poi guarda bene che intorno non ci sia nessuno e di scatto salta giù dal davanzale. Dalla parte della spaiggia, s'intende.
Oceano mare, by Alessandro Baricco

It is almost impossible to summarize the whole content of this novel, because there are many different stories composing one story, and if you listen to it "...you'll hear the voice of the Sea".

Here you can find a review, and probably a better description of what this novel deal with.

Friday, 20 February 2009

My own time...

Time is becoming more and more important in my everyday life, and that's something new to me. I have always been very well organized, it is not lack of modesty, but attending 2 different schools I have learned how to organize my own time in order to do what I really want to do!

But in the last year I realized that there are things I need to give up in order to pursuit what is important for me now. Time at University is different, my spare time is shorter, or perhaps just different...

And I started to think about how I spend/waste my time, how I can control it, if I still control it, and I realized that there is something wrong if you can't control your time. When you don't decide by yourself how much you want to dedicate to things you love, or you need, you don't feel satisfied (I'm not saying happy, I don't dare!).

The most beautiful present I could receive now is a little bit of time to dedicate to myself... but I'm not sure I could accept it right now!

Tuesday, 10 February 2009


Sometimes you get up so early in the morning....

Sometimes you are ready to come back as soon as you get to University...

Sometimes you expect to hear that you have to be back for the exam the day after, and you are told that you'll be the last of that very day.

Sometimes you wait so long for your exam that you have no more hope, and you seriously think to run away...

Sometimes when you enter the door your expectations are so low...

Sometimes professors are not that bad, and somehow they try to help you...

Sometime you run to get the train and your heart is lighter...

Sometimes on the train you see a friend you haven't met for ages, and you deserve a fine talk....

Sometimes you come back home really late, but you are happy!