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The Woman of Rome
The glitter and cynicism of Rome under Mussolini provide the background of what is probably Alberto Moravia’s best and best-known novel — The Woman of Rome. It’s the story of Adriana, a simple girl with no fortune but her beauty who models naked for a painter, accepts gifts from men, and could never quite identify the moment when she traded her private dream of home and children for the life of a prostitute.
One of the very few novels of the twentieth century which can be ranked with the work of Dostoevsky, The Woman of Rome also tells the stories of the tortured university student Giacomo, a failed revolutionary who refuses to admit his love for Adriana; of the sinister figure of Astarita, the Secret Police officer obsessed with Adriana; and of the coarse and brutal criminal Sonzogno, who treats Adriana as his private property. Within this story of passion and betrayal, Moravia calmly strips away the pride and arrogance hiding the corrupt heart of Italian Fascism.
One of the very few novels of the twentieth century which can be ranked with the work of Dostoevsky, The Woman of Rome also tells the stories of the tortured university student Giacomo, a failed revolutionary who refuses to admit his love for Adriana; of the sinister figure of Astarita, the Secret Police officer obsessed with Adriana; and of the coarse and brutal criminal Sonzogno, who treats Adriana as his private property. Within this story of passion and betrayal, Moravia calmly strips away the pride and arrogance hiding the corrupt heart of Italian Fascism.
416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1947
About the author
Alberto Moravia
450 books1,124 followersAlberto Moravia, born Alberto Pincherle, was one of the leading Italian novelists of the twentieth century whose novels explore matters of modern sexuality, social alienation, and existentialism. He was also a journalist, playwright, essayist and film critic.
Moravia was an atheist, his writing was marked by its factual, cold, precise style, often depicting the malaise of the bourgeoisie, underpinned by high social and cultural awareness. Moravia believed that writers must, if they were to represent reality, assume a moral position, a clearly conceived political, social, and philosophical attitude, but also that, ultimately, "A writer survives in spite of his beliefs".
Moravia was an atheist, his writing was marked by its factual, cold, precise style, often depicting the malaise of the bourgeoisie, underpinned by high social and cultural awareness. Moravia believed that writers must, if they were to represent reality, assume a moral position, a clearly conceived political, social, and philosophical attitude, but also that, ultimately, "A writer survives in spite of his beliefs".
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February 8, 2019
This is the first time other than Paris, I have read a book set in the very place I happened to be, after spending a couple of days in Rome. Although it's a wonderful city with some fantastic sights, call me old fashioned, but I would rather have gone back there in the days of Federico Fellini, but for obviously reasons that wasn't possible. Alberto Moravia's passionate 1947 novel is narrated by Adriana, a young woman living with her mother in a small flat in a poor part of town. They both sew to get by, whilst Adriana also models for artists, who think of her as exceedingly beautiful, which, considering the amount of men attracted to her, she clearly is.
Life is simple, and dominated by dreams and aspirations. Adriana spends a lot of her spare time stuck in the cramped bedroom, wondering about the future. Her mother wants nothing more than her daughter to meet a man with a heavy wallet, get married, start a family, and live by higher standards. If only is was that easy?. Well, it sort of is, after the oldest profession gains it's newest member. Adriana, gains experience of men, the good and the bad, is offered money after a sexual encounter, and realises she's onto a winner. Why not just make it official, and class herself as a prostitute. What starts as a squalid street life, soon takes a turns for the better, but Adriana always keeps her feet firmly on the ground.
Three men would enter her love life, the older political figure, Astarita. The criminal, Sonzogno. And the student, Mino, whom she feels captures her heart the most. There is also a side-story involving a murder, which connects the main characters towards the end. Adriana's story is a poignant one, there are lighter moments of humour, but also darker moments of jealousy.
Moravia's simple prose, written at a time when Italy was recovering from war, touches on fascism and how the lower classes struggled to make ends meet. Told in the first person, Adriana's thoughts and feelings play highly throughout the novel, and Moravia isn't afraid to use lengthy time on one moment. Up to fifty pages could cover a small amount of time, this helps create an intimate narrative that works so well for this type of story.
from the outset, Moravia faced a dilemma though. Would a woman of Adriana's uneducated class be able to tell her story in the way it's told. He could either adopt a realistic, photographic, spoken type of language, using a clumsy poor dialect, incapable of expressing more than a limited number of feelings. Or secondly go with his characters customary intellectual style, used many times over in other novels. Moravia stuck with what he knows best. Simply because the language of literature is always truer and more poetically expressive than the language spoken. Representing her moral world, you cannot deny that a women like Adriana would usually speak as she does, nevertheless, he attributed to her only those feelings and ideas one would express if they had the verbal and mental power to do so. It's a novel afterall. Not a documentary.
This was my fifth Moravia, the story itself is nothing spectacular, but his writing I just admire a great deal.
Life is simple, and dominated by dreams and aspirations. Adriana spends a lot of her spare time stuck in the cramped bedroom, wondering about the future. Her mother wants nothing more than her daughter to meet a man with a heavy wallet, get married, start a family, and live by higher standards. If only is was that easy?. Well, it sort of is, after the oldest profession gains it's newest member. Adriana, gains experience of men, the good and the bad, is offered money after a sexual encounter, and realises she's onto a winner. Why not just make it official, and class herself as a prostitute. What starts as a squalid street life, soon takes a turns for the better, but Adriana always keeps her feet firmly on the ground.
Three men would enter her love life, the older political figure, Astarita. The criminal, Sonzogno. And the student, Mino, whom she feels captures her heart the most. There is also a side-story involving a murder, which connects the main characters towards the end. Adriana's story is a poignant one, there are lighter moments of humour, but also darker moments of jealousy.
Moravia's simple prose, written at a time when Italy was recovering from war, touches on fascism and how the lower classes struggled to make ends meet. Told in the first person, Adriana's thoughts and feelings play highly throughout the novel, and Moravia isn't afraid to use lengthy time on one moment. Up to fifty pages could cover a small amount of time, this helps create an intimate narrative that works so well for this type of story.
from the outset, Moravia faced a dilemma though. Would a woman of Adriana's uneducated class be able to tell her story in the way it's told. He could either adopt a realistic, photographic, spoken type of language, using a clumsy poor dialect, incapable of expressing more than a limited number of feelings. Or secondly go with his characters customary intellectual style, used many times over in other novels. Moravia stuck with what he knows best. Simply because the language of literature is always truer and more poetically expressive than the language spoken. Representing her moral world, you cannot deny that a women like Adriana would usually speak as she does, nevertheless, he attributed to her only those feelings and ideas one would express if they had the verbal and mental power to do so. It's a novel afterall. Not a documentary.
This was my fifth Moravia, the story itself is nothing spectacular, but his writing I just admire a great deal.
Shelved as 'abandoned'
April 28, 2021Nope. I just can't read a page more of this right now. I've reached the one-quarter mark. This book suffers following on the heels of Annie Ernaux's A Frozen Woman. I just can't muster up any compassion for Adriana at the moment. It's all far too melodramatic for me. It reads along easily enough but there's something about it that feels contrived. I'm not sure I believe these characters. Maybe it's just me. I absolutely adored Ernaux's book, so bad timing on my part.
No rating, since I left more unread than read.
No rating, since I left more unread than read.
November 17, 2019
We have an exhibition now in the Thyssen museum that explores the relationship between Impressionist painting and photography. There hangs a pastel similar to the one at the top of this review. As I was reading this Italian novel when I visited the exhibition I remember thinking of the connection between models and prostitution, as treated in the novel, and as (partly) suggested in Degas’s work.
But a significant difference between the two, apart from their medium, their geographical origin and date of creation, is the point of view and the relationship between the subject and object. Degas the painter sees the woman in her intimacy. He may have seen her face, we don’t. While in Moravia’s novel the narrator is the young woman, Adriana, who begins modelling and gradually moves into prostitution. We get more than seeing her face. We know her identity, have her thoughts, feel her feelings, and see everything through her eyes, slowly . She is observed insofar as she is the one who observes. And the greatest interest of the novel is her personality and the way she reacts to life: her psychological mettle. She faces her choices, her opportunities, considering her inclinations and often the moral implications. This is a study of Adriana’s way of living and thinking. So much so that I remember thinking that Moravia when writing this book was like his own character in "Contempt" (Il disprezzo), Riccardo, the writer who has to work for the film industry because he needs the money but whose wish is to devote his writing abilities to explore the human psyche. Moravia is presenting may be what his Riccardo would have liked to have written.
The novel is from 1947 and was a huge success and is possibly considered Moravia’s greatest. I find the title, however, somewhat disconcerting, for the sense of this taking place in Rome and during the period it was written is very vague. Any large Italian city would do, and the political, social and economic conditions remain somewhat undefined--even if it seems some other readers want to see a more clearly political statement from the part of the author. For me, the main focus was the exploration of the moral choices of someone who has a very positive way of facing her own self. For Adriana is someone who can face destiny in the face, candidly, realising that this destiny is not what she would have chosen had she full control of her life, but who does not despair. I found very captivating the way Adriana judges, or not judges, what happens around her and the actions of those who surround her. Finding guilt is not her game. For gradually she acquires a deep understanding of herself and of how humans, given their conditions and constraints, act.
It is all relative then and life has to be embraced as it comes.
November 27, 2012
My first time to read an Alberto Moravia's (1907-1990) novel and I am... enchanted.
Originally written in Italian, the translator must have done a good job in translating it to English. I had a wonderful time reading because of the prose: clear, crisp, incandescent. I did not have feeling at all that I was reading a old first-published in 1949 book.
Told in first person by an unnamed narrator, this is the story of an 18-y/o prostitute, Adriana who at first did not know she was a prostitute because her mother was a prostitute and she thought it was a decent job. She first starts as a nude model because she has a perfect Venus-like body even at her very young age. Men, all sorts of men, get captivated by her because of her body matched with her beautiful exotic face. This was during the reign of fascist Benito Mussolini in 1922 to 1943. The prostitution, murder, crime and sex are in contrast to the image of Rome in my mind as the center of Holy Catholic faith.
However, this is not all about prostitution of the body. There is also the prostitution of the mind. There is an idealistic scholar, who when interrogated by Fascist soldiers, betrayed all his colleagues and he could not tell why he did that. It led to his isolation and self-alienation. One would easily (but depicted subtly) see the striking contrast: the beautiful but uneducated Adriana with men flocking to her body and the intelligent scholar who used to have so many friends but had to exist alone because of his betrayal.
Then there is also an Italian Fascist officer who obeys whatever the dictator government asks him to do. He seems to present to the reader the third choice: blind obedience. Do you prostitute yourself to protest against the government? Or is blind obedience the worse kind of prostitution because you support the evil that it represents? Which one is more moral?
I almost gave this a 5-star rating but the prose was too easy to read and I was not really challenged like when I was reading James Joyce. So, I settled for 4 stars. But trust me, this is a thought-provoking as well as sensually-entertaining read.
Originally written in Italian, the translator must have done a good job in translating it to English. I had a wonderful time reading because of the prose: clear, crisp, incandescent. I did not have feeling at all that I was reading a old first-published in 1949 book.
Told in first person by an unnamed narrator, this is the story of an 18-y/o prostitute, Adriana who at first did not know she was a prostitute because her mother was a prostitute and she thought it was a decent job. She first starts as a nude model because she has a perfect Venus-like body even at her very young age. Men, all sorts of men, get captivated by her because of her body matched with her beautiful exotic face. This was during the reign of fascist Benito Mussolini in 1922 to 1943. The prostitution, murder, crime and sex are in contrast to the image of Rome in my mind as the center of Holy Catholic faith.
However, this is not all about prostitution of the body. There is also the prostitution of the mind. There is an idealistic scholar, who when interrogated by Fascist soldiers, betrayed all his colleagues and he could not tell why he did that. It led to his isolation and self-alienation. One would easily (but depicted subtly) see the striking contrast: the beautiful but uneducated Adriana with men flocking to her body and the intelligent scholar who used to have so many friends but had to exist alone because of his betrayal.
Then there is also an Italian Fascist officer who obeys whatever the dictator government asks him to do. He seems to present to the reader the third choice: blind obedience. Do you prostitute yourself to protest against the government? Or is blind obedience the worse kind of prostitution because you support the evil that it represents? Which one is more moral?
I almost gave this a 5-star rating but the prose was too easy to read and I was not really challenged like when I was reading James Joyce. So, I settled for 4 stars. But trust me, this is a thought-provoking as well as sensually-entertaining read.
September 2, 2024
Amor Fati In Fascist Italy
Alberto Moravia was a leading mid-Twentieth Century Italian novelist and short story writer. Although his works were quickly translated into English, they were little read in the United States. Fortunately for interested readers, many of his books are now in print again and accessible, including his 1949 novel, "The Woman of Rome".
The book tells the story of Adriana, a beautiful, poor, and uneducated young woman who begins as an artist's model at the age of 16. Although she dreams of a quiet, modest home with a loving husband and children, she becomes both a prostitute and a thief. As a prostitute, she is involved with a number of men with competing ideologies and interests including Astarita, a Fascist chief of police, Giacomo, a student revolutionary against the Fascists and Sozmogo, a criminal and a thug.
The story is told in the first person. Adriana is always on stage and the character of highest interest. The reader gets to know her well. The book is told in a linear, easy-to-follow style which builds to a large crescendo at the end of the first part. The second part of the book loses slightly in dramatic intensity and in construction.
As with any work of depth, this book functions on a number of levels which reject easy paraphrase or simple meaning. Many readers see the book as a picture of corruption in Rome while others see it more as the story of Adriana. I am more inclined to the second view. As far as I can tell, however, there is a strong spiritual theme in the book which sometimes gets too little emphasis in the pull of conflicting readings.
There are no less than four pivotal scenes in The Woman of Rome set in a church. Although the book is replete with sex, violence and raw brutality, it is also highly internalized. Many of its most effective moments are those in which Adriana reflects (in church or out) on her life and on the course it has taken.
The German philosopher Frederich Nietzsche (Adriana does not mention and would not have known of him) used the phrase "amor fati" to describe the wise person's attitude towards life. The phrase means loving one's destiny or, to use another related Nietzschean phrase, "becoming who one is". The specific facts of one's life may be determined by circumstance. What is not determined is one's attitude. A person can understand his or her life and accept it joyfully, regardless of its state. It is in the acceptance and understanding that choice resides and that gives life its value and dignity.
The novel shows the attempt of a poor, but intelligent woman to find "amor fati" and to become who she is. She struggles to accept her nature and her being as a prostitute. Many of Adriana's reflections in the church are quite explicit and insightful. Adriana, alas, is no more successful than are most people in staying with her insight into herself. That, in my opinion, is the tragedy of the story which leads to the downfall of the men involved with Adriana.
The spiritual tone of the book goes well beyond Nietzsche. Together with the theme of amor fati, there is a religiosity that emphasizes, in the context of Western theology, God as merciful and as all-forgiving rather than God as a moralizer or judge. This God -- or self-understanding is open to all regardless of creed or station. The religion that seems to be espoused in the book recognizes the sinful, fallen nature of people and their frequent inability to change. It seems to suggest the possibility of atonement and forgiveness offered to everyone by a turning of the heart, even if, perhaps, behavior cannot be changed. It is a powerful picture of a God of mercy and forgiveness who holds the possibility of love out to all.
"The Woman of Rome" is a first-rate Twentieth Century novel.
Robin Friedman
Alberto Moravia was a leading mid-Twentieth Century Italian novelist and short story writer. Although his works were quickly translated into English, they were little read in the United States. Fortunately for interested readers, many of his books are now in print again and accessible, including his 1949 novel, "The Woman of Rome".
The book tells the story of Adriana, a beautiful, poor, and uneducated young woman who begins as an artist's model at the age of 16. Although she dreams of a quiet, modest home with a loving husband and children, she becomes both a prostitute and a thief. As a prostitute, she is involved with a number of men with competing ideologies and interests including Astarita, a Fascist chief of police, Giacomo, a student revolutionary against the Fascists and Sozmogo, a criminal and a thug.
The story is told in the first person. Adriana is always on stage and the character of highest interest. The reader gets to know her well. The book is told in a linear, easy-to-follow style which builds to a large crescendo at the end of the first part. The second part of the book loses slightly in dramatic intensity and in construction.
As with any work of depth, this book functions on a number of levels which reject easy paraphrase or simple meaning. Many readers see the book as a picture of corruption in Rome while others see it more as the story of Adriana. I am more inclined to the second view. As far as I can tell, however, there is a strong spiritual theme in the book which sometimes gets too little emphasis in the pull of conflicting readings.
There are no less than four pivotal scenes in The Woman of Rome set in a church. Although the book is replete with sex, violence and raw brutality, it is also highly internalized. Many of its most effective moments are those in which Adriana reflects (in church or out) on her life and on the course it has taken.
The German philosopher Frederich Nietzsche (Adriana does not mention and would not have known of him) used the phrase "amor fati" to describe the wise person's attitude towards life. The phrase means loving one's destiny or, to use another related Nietzschean phrase, "becoming who one is". The specific facts of one's life may be determined by circumstance. What is not determined is one's attitude. A person can understand his or her life and accept it joyfully, regardless of its state. It is in the acceptance and understanding that choice resides and that gives life its value and dignity.
The novel shows the attempt of a poor, but intelligent woman to find "amor fati" and to become who she is. She struggles to accept her nature and her being as a prostitute. Many of Adriana's reflections in the church are quite explicit and insightful. Adriana, alas, is no more successful than are most people in staying with her insight into herself. That, in my opinion, is the tragedy of the story which leads to the downfall of the men involved with Adriana.
The spiritual tone of the book goes well beyond Nietzsche. Together with the theme of amor fati, there is a religiosity that emphasizes, in the context of Western theology, God as merciful and as all-forgiving rather than God as a moralizer or judge. This God -- or self-understanding is open to all regardless of creed or station. The religion that seems to be espoused in the book recognizes the sinful, fallen nature of people and their frequent inability to change. It seems to suggest the possibility of atonement and forgiveness offered to everyone by a turning of the heart, even if, perhaps, behavior cannot be changed. It is a powerful picture of a God of mercy and forgiveness who holds the possibility of love out to all.
"The Woman of Rome" is a first-rate Twentieth Century novel.
Robin Friedman
May 24, 2013
One of the best novels that I have read in my life.... and one of those that once started you cannot put down, you just have to make trough all the 500 or how many pages no matter what. Such a sad, brutally honest and beautiful prose, I just loved it...
I think what I liked most about The Woman of Rome is a certain sense of doom...an atmosphere of darkness, filled with restrictions, a suggestions of how tragic life really is and how the horrors of it are not easily avoided. In fact, it is questionable can they be avoided at all.
We're all in many ways trapped by the society we found ourselves in...and tied by strings that we cannot ever completely free ourselves from...that is what I've gathered from it anyway. In any case, it really is quite a book.
Brilliant characterization...I just cannot believe how good this writer is at getting inside a women's head...particularly the protagonist, she seems as natural as any character can seem natural.
Having read a few novels with a similar theme (yes the story of prostitute with a golden heart is definitely a common one) one would think that I would have been tired of it. This subject may have been overused...but in this case...even if you're tired of such stories, make an exception for this really is an exceptional novel.
I think what I liked most about The Woman of Rome is a certain sense of doom...an atmosphere of darkness, filled with restrictions, a suggestions of how tragic life really is and how the horrors of it are not easily avoided. In fact, it is questionable can they be avoided at all.
We're all in many ways trapped by the society we found ourselves in...and tied by strings that we cannot ever completely free ourselves from...that is what I've gathered from it anyway. In any case, it really is quite a book.
Brilliant characterization...I just cannot believe how good this writer is at getting inside a women's head...particularly the protagonist, she seems as natural as any character can seem natural.
Having read a few novels with a similar theme (yes the story of prostitute with a golden heart is definitely a common one) one would think that I would have been tired of it. This subject may have been overused...but in this case...even if you're tired of such stories, make an exception for this really is an exceptional novel.
August 20, 2017
Pero yo me he preguntado con frecuencia por qué la tristeza y la rabia habitan tan a menudo el alma de aquellos que quieren vivir según ciertos preceptos o acomodarse a ciertos ideales, y por qué, en cambio, aquellos que aceptan la propia vida, que es, sin embargo, nulidad, oscuridad y flaqueza están por el contrario alegres y despreocupados.
Había dicho que tenía “una buena justificación” para la nota que le puse, un poco a la contraria del buen promedio que posee este libro en Goodreads. En realidad, no sé si es buena o mala: esta opinión refleja simplemente mi experiencia como lectora de una novela que, en apariencia, retrata la vida de una mujer en la Italia de Mussolini. Yo dudo. Lo hago porque el contexto histórico aparece en la mitad de la novela y, mientras el lector espera pinceladas de la época, tiene que soportar los problemas sentimentales de una joven que se encuentra al margen de la comprensión ¿Porque se pasó la mitad de su vida en una isla? Nada de eso: no le interesa porque no quiere entender. Por ende, Moravia le arma un séquito de personajes masculinos que se encargan de iluminarla en lo que se refiere a política y demás embrollos. He aquí la cuestión: la novela se lee desde una óptica que puede hallar la Historia en partes minúsculas y no desde una perspectiva de género, que encontraría temas del tamaño de un elefante. Este es el momento en el cual pueden cerrar el navegador o abrir Instagram porque me pongo densa con algo que sólo cinco personas querrían leer y debatir. Ya advertí. Rechazo reclamos en los comentarios.
La romana cuenta la historia de Adriana, una joven romana que atraviesa dificultades económicas desde que tiene memoria. Su madre es camisera y prácticamente la obliga a posar para artistas debido a su gran belleza. Por lo general, lo hace desnuda y le pagan miserias, así que la madre se pelea constantemente con los pintores mientras la vende como si fuera un florero porque la quiere bien (según Adriana). Cuando su pareja, Gino, la ilusiona con el casamiento y su amiga Gisela, junto con otras personas, la fuerzan a una situación horrible, Adriana cambia de parecer. Ella quería un futuro con un marido, hijos y una casa limpia y ordenada hasta que se da cuenta de que ejercer como prostituta la ayuda a obtener aquello que antes sólo podía admirar sin tocar en el presente.
La decisión es drástica y no tiene demasiada profundidad de por medio. La protagonista necesita un punto de quiebre para lanzarse a esa profesión (la palabra puede ser discutible, pero es la que usa Adriana para conceptualizar lo que hace) y Moravia le da dos que parecen endebles. Sin embargo, puede que al final de todo sea entendible, porque esta novela muestra cómo la desesperación puede llevar a tomar decisiones igualmente desesperadas sin importar quién hayas sido en el pasado. Moravia plantea, a través de la voz de Adriana (la narradora es ella), una idea que aparentemente se halla en todos sus libros: no hay que rebelarse contra el destino, sino seguirlo. Lo resume la cita que dejé al principio de la reseña. Ahora bien, hay cosas que pueden aceptarse como vienen, pero otras no. Ahí está el problema.
Adriana conoce a muchos hombres. Con algunos sólo mantiene la relación prostituta- cliente, pero a otros los trata con más asiduidad y se meten en la trama para complejizarla. Todos son personajes masculinos desagradables por distintas razones y no hay ninguno que sea querible o eche un poco de luz en esta novela tan sórdida. Allí aparecen las justificaciones que Adriana, siempre tambaleando entre la ingenuidad y la astucia, se inventa para “cubrir” a estos hombres. Los principales son Gino, Astarita, Jacobo y Sonzogno. Cada uno esconde secretos y se comportan muy mal con ella: la cosifican, le gritan, la tratan de estúpida, la golpean, la manipulan, la acosan. No diré quién hace qué. Y Adriana sigue narrando como si nada, preguntando el motivo de esas actitudes y rebajándose a sí misma porque, a fin de cuentas, sólo es una prostituta. De esta forma se ubica a sí misma por debajo de todas las mujeres pero se siente superior a otras porque sabe hacer bien el amor. Estas no son mis opiniones: son las suyas. Adriana siente simpatía y compasión por cada hombre que se le cruza en la vida y busca la identificación para seguir con su trato “bondadoso”. Se enamora de uno y se vuelve muy pesada, hasta un poco infantil. Mientras, los vínculos con su madre (este personaje es turbio y dice cosas con mucha razón, pero la hacen quedar como una loca) y con su amiga Gisela se vuelven extraños y cada vez que mira a una mujer lo hace criticándola. Podría extenderme en esto, pero lo reservo para no agotar (o algún futuro ensayo, quizá).
La romana consta de trescientas sesenta páginas utilizadas para que Adriana muestre lo triste que se hace vivir en una Roma de sombras, en donde se extiende la mano de un régimen que puede llevarse por delante al hombre que más quiere (aunque él a ella la deteste). A esto se suma una subtrama que empieza con el robo de una polvera y su viaje en manos de delincuentes. De esa cantidad de páginas, sólo un cuarto se dedica a complejizar y resolver estos temas. El resto se ocupa de las cosas que describí en el párrafo anterior: las relaciones tóxicas, el patetismo de Adriana, su sentimentalismo constante. La novela termina de manera forzosa y con una sucesión de deus ex machina, dejando a los verdaderos protagonistas de la misma (los hombres), en un punto sin retorno. Está bien escrita pero no presenta ninguna traba estilística, ni siquiera estética, así que considero que eso es un punto fuerte para que la novela guste y no sea desechada por otras cuestiones. Detecté problemas que pueden parecer mínimos pero que inciden en mi calificación negativa. Existen ciertas situaciones, sobre todo las relacionadas a la salud, que me hicieron preguntar si Moravia ahorró detalles para autocensurarse o si lo hizo por desconocimiento de la materia, ya que además concernían a la mujer. En fin, la escritura de Moravia no es algo que haya replanteado mi lista de autores favoritos porque no encontré nada nuevo en él. Adriana, para ser una chica sin educación (lo repite todo el tiempo), es una buena narradora. Lo acepto. Sin embargo, no se condice con su poca voluntad para entender la política y la literatura.
Me quedan cosas en el tintero pero prefiero cerrar este texto tan amargo. Leo libros para disfrutarlos y siempre trato de sacar lo bueno, incluso cuando califico con pocas estrellas. Quería sentir el ambiente de la Italia fascista y me topé con una historia de amores violentos que no van a ninguna parte, mientras la protagonista está cegada por sus ansias de amar y ser amada. Es trágico y real, pero no cumple la promesa del libro o, al menos, las promesas de las reseñas que leí. No ayuda en absoluto que se romantice tanto la prostitución y se presente a Adriana como una mujer librada a su destino cuando queda claro que puede cambiarlo positivamente porque tiene capacidad. Y que conste que La romana se quedó a medio camino por su escasa brillantez literaria y no sólo por mi decepción con respecto al contenido.
Había dicho que tenía “una buena justificación” para la nota que le puse, un poco a la contraria del buen promedio que posee este libro en Goodreads. En realidad, no sé si es buena o mala: esta opinión refleja simplemente mi experiencia como lectora de una novela que, en apariencia, retrata la vida de una mujer en la Italia de Mussolini. Yo dudo. Lo hago porque el contexto histórico aparece en la mitad de la novela y, mientras el lector espera pinceladas de la época, tiene que soportar los problemas sentimentales de una joven que se encuentra al margen de la comprensión ¿Porque se pasó la mitad de su vida en una isla? Nada de eso: no le interesa porque no quiere entender. Por ende, Moravia le arma un séquito de personajes masculinos que se encargan de iluminarla en lo que se refiere a política y demás embrollos. He aquí la cuestión: la novela se lee desde una óptica que puede hallar la Historia en partes minúsculas y no desde una perspectiva de género, que encontraría temas del tamaño de un elefante. Este es el momento en el cual pueden cerrar el navegador o abrir Instagram porque me pongo densa con algo que sólo cinco personas querrían leer y debatir. Ya advertí. Rechazo reclamos en los comentarios.
La romana cuenta la historia de Adriana, una joven romana que atraviesa dificultades económicas desde que tiene memoria. Su madre es camisera y prácticamente la obliga a posar para artistas debido a su gran belleza. Por lo general, lo hace desnuda y le pagan miserias, así que la madre se pelea constantemente con los pintores mientras la vende como si fuera un florero porque la quiere bien (según Adriana). Cuando su pareja, Gino, la ilusiona con el casamiento y su amiga Gisela, junto con otras personas, la fuerzan a una situación horrible, Adriana cambia de parecer. Ella quería un futuro con un marido, hijos y una casa limpia y ordenada hasta que se da cuenta de que ejercer como prostituta la ayuda a obtener aquello que antes sólo podía admirar sin tocar en el presente.
La decisión es drástica y no tiene demasiada profundidad de por medio. La protagonista necesita un punto de quiebre para lanzarse a esa profesión (la palabra puede ser discutible, pero es la que usa Adriana para conceptualizar lo que hace) y Moravia le da dos que parecen endebles. Sin embargo, puede que al final de todo sea entendible, porque esta novela muestra cómo la desesperación puede llevar a tomar decisiones igualmente desesperadas sin importar quién hayas sido en el pasado. Moravia plantea, a través de la voz de Adriana (la narradora es ella), una idea que aparentemente se halla en todos sus libros: no hay que rebelarse contra el destino, sino seguirlo. Lo resume la cita que dejé al principio de la reseña. Ahora bien, hay cosas que pueden aceptarse como vienen, pero otras no. Ahí está el problema.
Adriana conoce a muchos hombres. Con algunos sólo mantiene la relación prostituta- cliente, pero a otros los trata con más asiduidad y se meten en la trama para complejizarla. Todos son personajes masculinos desagradables por distintas razones y no hay ninguno que sea querible o eche un poco de luz en esta novela tan sórdida. Allí aparecen las justificaciones que Adriana, siempre tambaleando entre la ingenuidad y la astucia, se inventa para “cubrir” a estos hombres. Los principales son Gino, Astarita, Jacobo y Sonzogno. Cada uno esconde secretos y se comportan muy mal con ella: la cosifican, le gritan, la tratan de estúpida, la golpean, la manipulan, la acosan. No diré quién hace qué. Y Adriana sigue narrando como si nada, preguntando el motivo de esas actitudes y rebajándose a sí misma porque, a fin de cuentas, sólo es una prostituta. De esta forma se ubica a sí misma por debajo de todas las mujeres pero se siente superior a otras porque sabe hacer bien el amor. Estas no son mis opiniones: son las suyas. Adriana siente simpatía y compasión por cada hombre que se le cruza en la vida y busca la identificación para seguir con su trato “bondadoso”. Se enamora de uno y se vuelve muy pesada, hasta un poco infantil. Mientras, los vínculos con su madre (este personaje es turbio y dice cosas con mucha razón, pero la hacen quedar como una loca) y con su amiga Gisela se vuelven extraños y cada vez que mira a una mujer lo hace criticándola. Podría extenderme en esto, pero lo reservo para no agotar (o algún futuro ensayo, quizá).
La romana consta de trescientas sesenta páginas utilizadas para que Adriana muestre lo triste que se hace vivir en una Roma de sombras, en donde se extiende la mano de un régimen que puede llevarse por delante al hombre que más quiere (aunque él a ella la deteste). A esto se suma una subtrama que empieza con el robo de una polvera y su viaje en manos de delincuentes. De esa cantidad de páginas, sólo un cuarto se dedica a complejizar y resolver estos temas. El resto se ocupa de las cosas que describí en el párrafo anterior: las relaciones tóxicas, el patetismo de Adriana, su sentimentalismo constante. La novela termina de manera forzosa y con una sucesión de deus ex machina, dejando a los verdaderos protagonistas de la misma (los hombres), en un punto sin retorno. Está bien escrita pero no presenta ninguna traba estilística, ni siquiera estética, así que considero que eso es un punto fuerte para que la novela guste y no sea desechada por otras cuestiones. Detecté problemas que pueden parecer mínimos pero que inciden en mi calificación negativa. Existen ciertas situaciones, sobre todo las relacionadas a la salud, que me hicieron preguntar si Moravia ahorró detalles para autocensurarse o si lo hizo por desconocimiento de la materia, ya que además concernían a la mujer. En fin, la escritura de Moravia no es algo que haya replanteado mi lista de autores favoritos porque no encontré nada nuevo en él. Adriana, para ser una chica sin educación (lo repite todo el tiempo), es una buena narradora. Lo acepto. Sin embargo, no se condice con su poca voluntad para entender la política y la literatura.
Me quedan cosas en el tintero pero prefiero cerrar este texto tan amargo. Leo libros para disfrutarlos y siempre trato de sacar lo bueno, incluso cuando califico con pocas estrellas. Quería sentir el ambiente de la Italia fascista y me topé con una historia de amores violentos que no van a ninguna parte, mientras la protagonista está cegada por sus ansias de amar y ser amada. Es trágico y real, pero no cumple la promesa del libro o, al menos, las promesas de las reseñas que leí. No ayuda en absoluto que se romantice tanto la prostitución y se presente a Adriana como una mujer librada a su destino cuando queda claro que puede cambiarlo positivamente porque tiene capacidad. Y que conste que La romana se quedó a medio camino por su escasa brillantez literaria y no sólo por mi decepción con respecto al contenido.
July 4, 2022
"The woman of Rome" by Alberto Moravia is a novel set in the Italy of Fascism and tells the story of Adriana, a girl of the people who, to get out of the misery in which she and her mother are, becomes a prostitute. Adriana tells firsthand and through her reflections Moravia describes in depth human psychology and its weaknesses.
Adriana's decision to prostitute was not taken suddenly, on the contrary, at the beginning, her plans were to get married and make a family with her boyfriend and live in a nice house. But things go differently: Adriana lives with her mother, a woman who only wants the financial success of her daughter, rather than her true happiness. To take advantage of Adriana's beauty, she pushes her to pose naked for some painters, both because she earns money and because she becomes a little famous. Adriana obeys, although she keeps alive her dream of starting a family with Gino, her boyfriend. Gino however is a hypocrite and a traitor and so, at the height of his despair, Adriana gives in to the requests of Gisella, a high-profile prostitute who pushes Adriana to meet men in exchange for money. Throughout the book, Adriana remains a good and innocent girl, who is however ruined by the corruption around her. Together with her, we get to know a little about the men she meets: there is a fascist officer who is willing to do anything for her; there is a violent man who wants her in a brutal and animalistic way; there is a young student with a slightly weak character, who falls in love with her and with whom Adriana falls madly in love. Among these men who are part of Adriana's life, complex intricacies are created, which then lead to a series of misunderstandings that will lead the book to a surprise ending.
In the novel, Adriana's reflections are very numerous and she brings out the most profound aspects of the human soul. She is able to have no grudge against those who exploit her because she is able to understand that weakness is part of the human soul, of everyone, and therefore she can forgive herself and her errors, forgiving those of others. These profound reflections, inter alia made with complex sentences, sound a little inappropriate coming out of the mouth of a prostitute of the people and we realize this after a few pages, but precisely for the fact that this contradiction is very apparent, we understand that Moravia wanted it just like that and in any case we forget it quickly, captured by the story. A story that is also erotic, like many of Moravia's stories: Adriana's love adventures are described both in a romantic and physical sense, with precision, passion, intensity, but without vulgarity. Adriana's sexuality, and also her profession, appear as something normal, natural and pleasant. Moravia wanted to create a woman full of contradictions and errors, who is however able to overcome them and arrive at an out of the ordinary vision and balance. Through Adriana we understand that Moravia sees contradictions as an integral part of human beings; human’s inconsistency, its non-linearity, its making mistakes, make humanity what it is, human, and not robots without feelings.
Adriana's decision to prostitute was not taken suddenly, on the contrary, at the beginning, her plans were to get married and make a family with her boyfriend and live in a nice house. But things go differently: Adriana lives with her mother, a woman who only wants the financial success of her daughter, rather than her true happiness. To take advantage of Adriana's beauty, she pushes her to pose naked for some painters, both because she earns money and because she becomes a little famous. Adriana obeys, although she keeps alive her dream of starting a family with Gino, her boyfriend. Gino however is a hypocrite and a traitor and so, at the height of his despair, Adriana gives in to the requests of Gisella, a high-profile prostitute who pushes Adriana to meet men in exchange for money. Throughout the book, Adriana remains a good and innocent girl, who is however ruined by the corruption around her. Together with her, we get to know a little about the men she meets: there is a fascist officer who is willing to do anything for her; there is a violent man who wants her in a brutal and animalistic way; there is a young student with a slightly weak character, who falls in love with her and with whom Adriana falls madly in love. Among these men who are part of Adriana's life, complex intricacies are created, which then lead to a series of misunderstandings that will lead the book to a surprise ending.
In the novel, Adriana's reflections are very numerous and she brings out the most profound aspects of the human soul. She is able to have no grudge against those who exploit her because she is able to understand that weakness is part of the human soul, of everyone, and therefore she can forgive herself and her errors, forgiving those of others. These profound reflections, inter alia made with complex sentences, sound a little inappropriate coming out of the mouth of a prostitute of the people and we realize this after a few pages, but precisely for the fact that this contradiction is very apparent, we understand that Moravia wanted it just like that and in any case we forget it quickly, captured by the story. A story that is also erotic, like many of Moravia's stories: Adriana's love adventures are described both in a romantic and physical sense, with precision, passion, intensity, but without vulgarity. Adriana's sexuality, and also her profession, appear as something normal, natural and pleasant. Moravia wanted to create a woman full of contradictions and errors, who is however able to overcome them and arrive at an out of the ordinary vision and balance. Through Adriana we understand that Moravia sees contradictions as an integral part of human beings; human’s inconsistency, its non-linearity, its making mistakes, make humanity what it is, human, and not robots without feelings.
August 7, 2019
Romanzo del 1947, successo di pubblico e di critica ma ben lontano da quella forma perfetta raggiunta nel romanzo d’esordio “Gli indifferenti”. Potremmo definirlo un romanzo appartenente al genere del realismo psicologico, interessante per ambientazione, Roma fascista ai tempi della guerra d’Etiopia, e per i personaggi ritratti: una popolana, prostituta e in coppia con una madre vedova e sconfitta dalla vita, un ragazzo popolano autista presso una ricca famiglia, un giovane studente provinciale appartenente alla media borghesia, un poliziotto , un delinquente. Se vogliamo è presente, con la sua impronta, anche tutto un sottosuolo di umanità sfatta, povera ma viva e pulsante: sono le amiche di Adriana, la giovane prostituta, sono i clienti che si aggirano per strade buie e per taverne e per logore stanze in affitto il tempo necessario per consumare. Il tutto rappresentato dalla voce narrante della stessa Adriana che racconta pochi anni della sua esistenza , dalle pressioni subite dalla madre che, data la sua bellezza giunonica ma non più alla moda, cerca di farla sfondare, appena sedicenne, come modella riuscendo però solo a farla posare nuda per alcuni pittori, fino al suo primo innamoramento, alla delusione per una storia che non potrà avere futuro e al tramonto delle sue speranze giovanili di matrimonio e figli fatte coincidere con il passaggio al mestiere. Da quel momento Adriana diventa un personaggio autonomo, tutta la prima parte era invece tesa a rappresentarla come succube di una madre arrivista, è ora capace di scelte, vittima a questo punto solo della sua condizione sociale. Tuttavia, proprio i molteplici rapporti intrattenuti con i vari clienti la portano a una razionale decodifica della realtà che, pur non facendole mancare momenti di grande sconforto, le daranno anche la possibilità di rafforzare la sua personale attitudine verso la vita, un sano ottimismo, una rassegnata accettazione. Lei diventa il fulcro sul quale convergono individui molto più combattuti intimamente, incapaci di vivere, preda dei propri istinti, delle proprie emozioni o peggio in balia di una totale assenza di linfa vitale, come nel caso di Mino, il giovane studente borghese, vero e proprio nichilista . Questa complessità umana è filtrata dallo sguardo di una popolana, Adriana appunto, e benché lei stessa si rappresenti limitata nell’intelletto e profondamente ignorante , risulta però capace di una lettura che è evidente traduzione del sentire dell’autore che l’ha messa in scena. La sua voce, le sue parole, la profondità di analisi psicologica tradiscono purtroppo l’intellettuale Moravia, e questo è il limite, a mio avviso, più evidente dell’opera. Il romanzo è tuttavia scorrevole, godibilissimo, a tratti noir, capace ad ogni modo di evidenziare una critica al mondo borghese, costante dell’opera dell’autore, che, rispetto al vivace pullulare di vita del ceto popolare privo di sovrastrutture culturali, ne esce sconfitto e mortificato. Ancora una volta sull’onda di un latente esistenzialismo.
May 6, 2020
Хм, какво все пак имаме тук... Младо обикновено момиче, жертва на безскрупулна, отвратителна м��йка материалистка, която смята да се възползва от красотата на дъщеря си, за да продава тялото ѝ, пък макар и само като за модел на художници. Не, че изпитва особено големи притеснения дъщеря ѝ да стане и проститутка, то, нали, живота трябва да се уреди, да има пари, само парите са в тоя живот.
Девойката пък мечтае да се омъжи и да има нормален живот, обаче бива измамена и разочарована и - хоп! - ставаме проститутка, защото нищо друго в тоя живот вече няма значение, защо пък да имаме воля и желание да се борим за мечтите си, бля, карай да върви.
Следва сравнително "нормално" всекидневие на една проститутка, по-голямата част от книгата. Накрая забъркваме една история за латиноамерикански сериал, край на историята.
Всички хора в този роман са безнадеждно простовати и глупави... Тъжна действителност, според автора.
Девойката пък мечтае да се омъжи и да има нормален живот, обаче бива измамена и разочарована и - хоп! - ставаме проститутка, защото нищо друго в тоя живот вече няма значение, защо пък да имаме воля и желание да се борим за мечтите си, бля, карай да върви.
Следва сравнително "нормално" всекидневие на една проститутка, по-голямата част от книгата. Накрая забъркваме една история за латиноамерикански сериал, край на историята.
Всички хора в този роман са безнадеждно простовати и глупави... Тъжна действителност, според автора.
October 10, 2019
I read its Hindi translation. A pathetic story of a simple and beautiful girl who fell in prostitution and how her life leads to a tragic end. The story gives the message that being ambitious is good, but always care of the means by which you want to get the target. Sometimes instincts can't differentiate in good and bad and that leads to suffering.
January 17, 2019
Позакъсняла съм за тази книга, може би някой друг път на дълго и на широко ще разкажа защо.
Даже когато минаха няколко дни, осъзнах, че цялата история изобщо не ми харесва. Объркана главна героиня, тотално объркана, без никакъв инстинкт за самосъхранение. Разочаровала се - окей. И открила проститутката в себе си, и после ни разкрива един много объркан вътрешен свят, който няма да донесе нищо на младите четящи дами, които вятър ги вее на бял кон. А мъжете - без думи. От отрепки нагоре.
Сега тая книга ще я оставя някъде, защото ме ядоса. И на Алберто Моравиа ще му дам жълт картон.
И Желю Желев и той много ме ядосва. И въобще цялата секция у нас ме ядосва, защото не мога да реша с какво да продължа.
Даже когато минаха няколко дни, осъзнах, че цялата история изобщо не ми харесва. Объркана главна героиня, тотално объркана, без никакъв инстинкт за самосъхранение. Разочаровала се - окей. И открила проститутката в себе си, и после ни разкрива един много объркан вътрешен свят, който няма да донесе нищо на младите четящи дами, които вятър ги вее на бял кон. А мъжете - без думи. От отрепки нагоре.
Сега тая книга ще я оставя някъде, защото ме ядоса. И на Алберто Моравиа ще му дам жълт картон.
И Желю Желев и той много ме ядосва. И въобще цялата секция у нас ме ядосва, защото не мога да реша с какво да продължа.
February 1, 2020
الترجمة جرّدت الرواية من كل حس فني وأدبي..
September 7, 2012
Leggere Moravia ,per me, è come seguire una linea dritta e chiara.La sua prosa è misurata ed egli ci prende per mano accompagnandoci lungo il racconto,con calma e pacatezza.Da maestro paziente ci fa notare tutti i particolari,ci descrive con tale accuratezza gli ambienti che è come se ci fossimo dentro,e dei personaggi esalta con così tanta maestria carattere e particolari fisici da farceli immaginare come fossero davanti a noi,pronti a chiederci qualcosa.Di loro ci descrive e spiega chiaramente motivazioni e pensieri,con i suoi modi un pò freddi e distaccati ma pieni di lirismo.In questo caso in particolare l'effetto è accentuato dal fatto che il romanzo è scritto in prima persona e noi ci ritroviamo a seguire la protagonista dal di dentro,passo passo,lungo tutta la sua evoluzione sentimentale e psicologica,capendo perfettamente (anche se magari non le condividiamo in alcun modo)le motivazioni che la conducono lungo il percorso di vita che essa sceglie.Per l'ennesima volta:leggiamo Moravia.
April 3, 2015
Adriana is a young woman of Mussolini’s Italy who becomes a prostitute, or more accurately, grows into her destiny—what she believes she was born to be. Like another Moravia novel, “The Conformist,” this one suggests that, in a cynical world, surrendering to fate can be the ultimate expression of freedom. But unlike Clerici, the protagonist of “The Conformist” who resists his own nature, Adriana surrenders to hers with dedication, even optimism. One of the miracles of this book is Adriana’s phlegmatic first-person narration. In her calm voice, she exposes the corruption and brutality of daily life in Fascist Italy without passing judgment on the individuals who must navigate it for their own survival.
July 17, 2014
Almost, almost perfect--the second half was not as good as the first, and I think it was due to my dislike of Mino, who I found irritating, superficial, and boring (he's intended to be this way, I know); not to mention the ending was rushed and kind of cray. But it's easy to forgive, especially when everything else about the book was so enjoyable. Definitely a favorite.
Full review forthcoming.
Full review forthcoming.
March 5, 2024
4,5 - Ik heb al lang niet meer zo’n sterke emoties gevoeld bij het lezen van een boek. Schrijnend verhaal, prachtig geschreven!
September 10, 2022
Turobno! I zašto je moralo baš tako da bude? – odzvanjalo je u meni dok sam iščitavao „Rimljanku“. To ne znači da sam mislio kako je knjiga loša ili nedostojna pažnje. Naprotiv! Takav utisak je i želeo da ostavi Moravija oslikavajući jedno vreme, trenutak i sudbinu.
U poređenju sa današnjicom devojka poput Adrijane, najblaže rečeno, deluje vrlo naivno, čak moralno. Njeni najsvesniji životni trenuci odišu impulsom, odnosno jasnom željom za ispunjenjem kroz najsvetliji i najodrživiji ideal – porodicu. Ona mašta o skromnom domu, mužu, deci i ljubavi kojom će sve zaodenuti.
Međutim, svet i ljudi oko nje nisu obuzeti običnostima. Oni primećuju isključivo njenu lepotu, u čemu prednjači njena majka – koja u spoljnoj lepoti svoje ćerke vidi izlaz iz bede u kojoj ceo život robuje. Ni svi ljudi sa kojima se susreće: Đino, Đizela, Astarita... ne udubljuju se u njeno unutrašnje biće ili to čine tek u tolikoj meri da bi se poigrali sa njim i iskoristili ga za svoje najniže porive.
A njeno biće polako bledi, izloženo spoljnim uticajima, sa sve izvesnijim nedostatkom snage da ih nadvlada, postepeno im se podređuje i prilagođava. Zbog toga oseća olakšanje, ali i nezadovoljstvo. Ona širi vrata takvom svetu, dovodi ka k sebi i predaje mu se, grabeći od njega po neku kap čulnog zadovoljstva. Pokušava da uživa u tome i da istovremeno ostane svoja. Želja za životom je iznad svega.
Prikaz ovog romana napisao sam otprilike na polovini pročitane knjiga. Sklopivši poslednju stranicu uzdahnuo sam odustajući od namere da još nešto dodam. Najzad, niko ne voli kad mu se razotkrije kraj nepročitane knjige, a ono navedeno je sasvim dovoljna mera da radoznalog zainteresuje. Nadam se...
U poređenju sa današnjicom devojka poput Adrijane, najblaže rečeno, deluje vrlo naivno, čak moralno. Njeni najsvesniji životni trenuci odišu impulsom, odnosno jasnom željom za ispunjenjem kroz najsvetliji i najodrživiji ideal – porodicu. Ona mašta o skromnom domu, mužu, deci i ljubavi kojom će sve zaodenuti.
Međutim, svet i ljudi oko nje nisu obuzeti običnostima. Oni primećuju isključivo njenu lepotu, u čemu prednjači njena majka – koja u spoljnoj lepoti svoje ćerke vidi izlaz iz bede u kojoj ceo život robuje. Ni svi ljudi sa kojima se susreće: Đino, Đizela, Astarita... ne udubljuju se u njeno unutrašnje biće ili to čine tek u tolikoj meri da bi se poigrali sa njim i iskoristili ga za svoje najniže porive.
A njeno biće polako bledi, izloženo spoljnim uticajima, sa sve izvesnijim nedostatkom snage da ih nadvlada, postepeno im se podređuje i prilagođava. Zbog toga oseća olakšanje, ali i nezadovoljstvo. Ona širi vrata takvom svetu, dovodi ka k sebi i predaje mu se, grabeći od njega po neku kap čulnog zadovoljstva. Pokušava da uživa u tome i da istovremeno ostane svoja. Želja za životom je iznad svega.
Prikaz ovog romana napisao sam otprilike na polovini pročitane knjiga. Sklopivši poslednju stranicu uzdahnuo sam odustajući od namere da još nešto dodam. Najzad, niko ne voli kad mu se razotkrije kraj nepročitane knjige, a ono navedeno je sasvim dovoljna mera da radoznalog zainteresuje. Nadam se...
October 20, 2020
Il mio primo incontro con Moravia è stato sicuramente d'impatto, grazie a questo romanzo tanto intenso. E' stata una lettura vertiginosa che ha cercato, come la sua protagonista, di districarsi da quel senso di oppressione che la trama della vita offre. Sebbene alle volte si abbiano delle aspirazioni pure, la vita spesso le insozza, ed è ciò che accade ad Adriana, la narratrice di questo lungo racconto, che si ritrova suo malgrado intrappolata in un ruolo triste impostole dalla società.
Brutale e torbido, sono rimasta semplicemente affascinata dallo stile di Moravia e dalla sua abilità di comprensione della natura femminile.
Brutale e torbido, sono rimasta semplicemente affascinata dallo stile di Moravia e dalla sua abilità di comprensione della natura femminile.
April 30, 2021
Easily one of my new favourite novels. I related deeply with Adriene and her wants and desires and personality rlly spoke to me. This incredible tale explores sexuality, women's role in the world, men and women's dynamic and the inlustrial issue beauty and wealth, all whilst being told against the backdrop of Mussolinis Rome and it is true incredible. The writing aswell is this amazing mixture between accsessible, simple diolague and lyrical philosophical reflections which is exactly my cup of tea. It doesn't come across as boring or pretentious unlike many classics so I could not recommend enough. A true masterpiece.
November 12, 2009
The Woman of Rome, is told from the point of view of a prostitute.Moravia's skillful chronicle of the moral education of Adriana, an impressionable and essentially kind woman, remains potent, its naturalism complicated by excursions in voyeurism.
Moravia has incorporated in his world the soul of women, he has become woman --- and in this transformation, he makes Adriana such that we, too, become her. At the same time, the men he creates are perfect. We should think of Moravia as a chess master, one who not only plays beautifully, but carves the various pieces as well: Gino the small-time thief and chauffeur, Sonzogno the hood, with his " muscles of steel," Giacomo the intellectual student revolutionary, Astarita the police official. All of them are swept up by this whore, all reacting to her in a different way, all smitten by her, all destroyed by her.
Adriana is a whore, and she is a good one. She tells us that early on, "I had taken up a very hard profession --- the simulation of passionate love for men who actually roused the most contrary feelings in me..." She tells us the way she accomplished what every prostitute must accomplish with every man --- that is, satisfying them, despite her own feelings: "I quickly learned to pick out at first glance the one good or pleasing aspect in each man that would make intimacy bearable".
Moravia has incorporated in his world the soul of women, he has become woman --- and in this transformation, he makes Adriana such that we, too, become her. At the same time, the men he creates are perfect. We should think of Moravia as a chess master, one who not only plays beautifully, but carves the various pieces as well: Gino the small-time thief and chauffeur, Sonzogno the hood, with his " muscles of steel," Giacomo the intellectual student revolutionary, Astarita the police official. All of them are swept up by this whore, all reacting to her in a different way, all smitten by her, all destroyed by her.
Adriana is a whore, and she is a good one. She tells us that early on, "I had taken up a very hard profession --- the simulation of passionate love for men who actually roused the most contrary feelings in me..." She tells us the way she accomplished what every prostitute must accomplish with every man --- that is, satisfying them, despite her own feelings: "I quickly learned to pick out at first glance the one good or pleasing aspect in each man that would make intimacy bearable".
July 23, 2020
Ho divorato questo sublime racconto. Adriana, giovane, povera, appena ventenne, ignorante ma bellissima, mi ha ammaliato con suoi pensieri, i suoi racconti e le descrizioni così accurate e vivide della madre, di Gino, Astarita, Sonzogno e del tormentato Giacomo.
Ogni singolo personaggio, dagli occhi attenti e ingenui della protagonista assume forma e si cala nella Roma del ventennio, lasciandosi sconvolgere da un'apparentemente insignificante prostituta qual è Adriana, che decide di fare della propria bellezza il mezzo con cui guadagnarsi da vivere.
Moravia mostra chiaramente ogni vicenda, nulla è lasciato sottointeso, già solo accennando ad un particolare è possibile capire di chi si parla e il luogo in cui è ambientata la scena: ho potuto quasi sentire l'odore della spoglia stanza di Adriana, con quel letto tanto usato e quelle lenzuola diacce e logore. Interessante anche l'evoluzione della madre, presenza costante fin dalla prima pagina, che se all'inizio sembra il vero motore del racconto, verso la conclusione si rivela quasi solo un peso.
Gran lettura, debbo dire!
Ogni singolo personaggio, dagli occhi attenti e ingenui della protagonista assume forma e si cala nella Roma del ventennio, lasciandosi sconvolgere da un'apparentemente insignificante prostituta qual è Adriana, che decide di fare della propria bellezza il mezzo con cui guadagnarsi da vivere.
Moravia mostra chiaramente ogni vicenda, nulla è lasciato sottointeso, già solo accennando ad un particolare è possibile capire di chi si parla e il luogo in cui è ambientata la scena: ho potuto quasi sentire l'odore della spoglia stanza di Adriana, con quel letto tanto usato e quelle lenzuola diacce e logore. Interessante anche l'evoluzione della madre, presenza costante fin dalla prima pagina, che se all'inizio sembra il vero motore del racconto, verso la conclusione si rivela quasi solo un peso.
Gran lettura, debbo dire!
August 30, 2015
So cruel yet so tender. Full of oposits. Adriana lives a life of a prostitute yet her purpose's so pure. She is so deep yet so superficial . Moravia depicted such a moral decadence with so much understanding and avoided any judgement over the poor girl so as tooffer a reader an opportunity to come to his own verdict.
Truly interesting reading consisting of interesting plot, tricky topic and psychological anlysing of morality deserves 4 and I honestly cecommend.
Truly interesting reading consisting of interesting plot, tricky topic and psychological anlysing of morality deserves 4 and I honestly cecommend.
March 25, 2017
ربما يكون اوجه القصور الوحيد في الرواية هو أن هناك جزء ناقص من روح الرواية .. فرغم براعة مورافيا لكن هناك جزء داخلي عن احساس المرأة التي يأتي السرد في الرواية من خلالها أظنه غير كامل
فيما عدا ذلك فمورفيا ينسج خيوطه ببراعة من خلال اربع شخصيات رئيسية الفتاة وامها وصديقها وصديقه الطامع بها
فيما عدا ذلك فمورفيا ينسج خيوطه ببراعة من خلال اربع شخصيات رئيسية الفتاة وامها وصديقها وصديقه الطامع بها
May 5, 2020
الصرح الروائي الشبه مثالي ؛ كل شيء في مكانه الصحيح .
January 10, 2022
“Pero no deseo atarme con nadie —añadí—. Quiero ser libre.”
Tras leer La Campesina, un libro posterior a La Romana del escritor Alberto Moravia, si he de encontrar algo en común, es la principalía que tiene la mujer en ambos textos. En ambos textos arbitran dos madres e hijas, con características comunes y escenarios humedecidos por el fascismo y la Segunda Guerra Mundial, teniendo en cuenta que dichos acontecimientos son solo adornos, están en un segundo plano. La Romana cuenta la historia de una mujer, Adriana, que a su vez, es la narrada del texto, quien con apenas 18 años tiene una extraordinaria belleza, como así su madre hizo tejer. Una narradora que cuenta sus fragilidades y su declive moral en una Italia fascista donde reina la corrupción y la sed de poder.
Adriana, un joven, que desde su niñez fue alejada por su madre de las atracciones que cualquier niño quisiese experimental. En un pequeño apartamento para empleados ferrocarriles vivieron la viudez y pobreza de su madre. Una madre enigmática que aspira y apuesta al éxito económico de su hija a través de su mejor materia prima, la belleza de la misma. Ella la enfila a posar desnuda para un pintor. Mas luego, a la madre se le ocurrió presentarla a un director de variedades, a fin a la danza. Si bien era bella, las proporciones de su cuerpo, su tez no era atractivo para la época, bien lo dijo el pintor: “Incluso el pintor me lo había dicho: «Tú, Adriana, deberías haber nacido cuatro siglos antes... entonces, gustaban las mujeres como tú... pero hoy, que están de moda las delgadas, eres como un pez fuera del agua... Dentro de cuatro o cinco años serás monumental.” A esto se une también el director de variedades: “¡Pobre Adriana mía...! Ya te lo he dicho muchas veces... Tu error está en haber nacido hoy... Deberías haber nacido hace cuatro siglos. Los que hoy parecen defectos tuyos, entonces eran cualidades, y al revés... Ese director no se equivocaba, desde su punto de vista... Él sabe que el público quiere mujeres delgadas, con el pecho pequeño, el trasero pequeño, las caras maliciosas y provocativas... En cambio tú, sin ser gorda, estás llenita, eres morena, tienes un pecho abundante, lo mismo el trasero, y una cara dulce y tranquila... ”
Adriana es un personaje ambiguo, si bien es cierto, que su mayor deseo es formalizar una familia, vivir una vida tranquila junto a su marido e hijos, a su vez al pasar el tiempo este deseo se franquea con la promiscuidad, pues el desamor hizo cambiar de parecer esa inocencia en aquella sociedad corrupta que le dio otra visión sobre la vida, como bien lo dice la frase al inicio, busco la libertad conociendo a Astarista, un oficial fascista, mas luego a Sonzongno, un violento hombre, y finalmente a Giocomo, conocido como Mino, un estudiante rebelde de mal genio, de quien se enamora perdidamente.
“Por mucho que me esfuerzo, es imposible separar el sentimiento del sentido, tu me gusta, pero no te amo.”
Este texto de Moravia encamina al lector a una introspección, donde la protagonista nos va contando su historia en primera persona, tal como sucedió. Una mujer que evoluciona sin dejar de ser la misma, a veces segura de si misma, pero siempre conservando un velo de inocencia infantil y frívola. Estas fueron las palabras de Moravia: "Con La Romana quise crear la figura de una mujer llena de contradicciones y errores y, sin embargo, capaz por la fuerza de una vitalidad ingenua y un impulso de afecto de superar estas contradicciones y remediar estos errores, y alcanzar una clarividencia y un equilibrio que a menudo se niega a los más inteligentes y dotados». Un texto donde el erotismo no es la excepción, pues la misma narradora nos cuenta sus aventuras amorosas, aunque en algunos momentos, quizás no privativos, pues hasta su casa llegaba la prostitución como algo natural: “Soy una puta», dije por fin en voz alta, para ver qué efecto me hacía”, pero como dije, algo totalmente ambiguo, pues tenia cierta orientación religiosa, tanto en lo confesional y su devoción a la virgen. Una novela que fue adoptada el cine.
“Al quedarme sola, me sentí casi aliviada en mi dolor por todo lo que había dicho a aquellos dos individuos. Pensé en Mino y pensé en mi hijo. Pensé que iba a nacer de un asesino y una prostituta, pero a todos los hombres les puede suceder matar y a todas las mujeres darse por dinero, y lo que más importaba era que naciera bien y se criase sano y fuerte. Y decidí que si era varón lo llamaría Giacomo en recuerdo de Mino. Pero si era una hembra la llamaría Letizia porque quería que, a diferencia de mí, tuviese una vida alegre y feliz y estaba segura de que, con la ayuda de la familia de Mino, la tendría.”
Tras leer La Campesina, un libro posterior a La Romana del escritor Alberto Moravia, si he de encontrar algo en común, es la principalía que tiene la mujer en ambos textos. En ambos textos arbitran dos madres e hijas, con características comunes y escenarios humedecidos por el fascismo y la Segunda Guerra Mundial, teniendo en cuenta que dichos acontecimientos son solo adornos, están en un segundo plano. La Romana cuenta la historia de una mujer, Adriana, que a su vez, es la narrada del texto, quien con apenas 18 años tiene una extraordinaria belleza, como así su madre hizo tejer. Una narradora que cuenta sus fragilidades y su declive moral en una Italia fascista donde reina la corrupción y la sed de poder.
Adriana, un joven, que desde su niñez fue alejada por su madre de las atracciones que cualquier niño quisiese experimental. En un pequeño apartamento para empleados ferrocarriles vivieron la viudez y pobreza de su madre. Una madre enigmática que aspira y apuesta al éxito económico de su hija a través de su mejor materia prima, la belleza de la misma. Ella la enfila a posar desnuda para un pintor. Mas luego, a la madre se le ocurrió presentarla a un director de variedades, a fin a la danza. Si bien era bella, las proporciones de su cuerpo, su tez no era atractivo para la época, bien lo dijo el pintor: “Incluso el pintor me lo había dicho: «Tú, Adriana, deberías haber nacido cuatro siglos antes... entonces, gustaban las mujeres como tú... pero hoy, que están de moda las delgadas, eres como un pez fuera del agua... Dentro de cuatro o cinco años serás monumental.” A esto se une también el director de variedades: “¡Pobre Adriana mía...! Ya te lo he dicho muchas veces... Tu error está en haber nacido hoy... Deberías haber nacido hace cuatro siglos. Los que hoy parecen defectos tuyos, entonces eran cualidades, y al revés... Ese director no se equivocaba, desde su punto de vista... Él sabe que el público quiere mujeres delgadas, con el pecho pequeño, el trasero pequeño, las caras maliciosas y provocativas... En cambio tú, sin ser gorda, estás llenita, eres morena, tienes un pecho abundante, lo mismo el trasero, y una cara dulce y tranquila... ”
Adriana es un personaje ambiguo, si bien es cierto, que su mayor deseo es formalizar una familia, vivir una vida tranquila junto a su marido e hijos, a su vez al pasar el tiempo este deseo se franquea con la promiscuidad, pues el desamor hizo cambiar de parecer esa inocencia en aquella sociedad corrupta que le dio otra visión sobre la vida, como bien lo dice la frase al inicio, busco la libertad conociendo a Astarista, un oficial fascista, mas luego a Sonzongno, un violento hombre, y finalmente a Giocomo, conocido como Mino, un estudiante rebelde de mal genio, de quien se enamora perdidamente.
“Por mucho que me esfuerzo, es imposible separar el sentimiento del sentido, tu me gusta, pero no te amo.”
Este texto de Moravia encamina al lector a una introspección, donde la protagonista nos va contando su historia en primera persona, tal como sucedió. Una mujer que evoluciona sin dejar de ser la misma, a veces segura de si misma, pero siempre conservando un velo de inocencia infantil y frívola. Estas fueron las palabras de Moravia: "Con La Romana quise crear la figura de una mujer llena de contradicciones y errores y, sin embargo, capaz por la fuerza de una vitalidad ingenua y un impulso de afecto de superar estas contradicciones y remediar estos errores, y alcanzar una clarividencia y un equilibrio que a menudo se niega a los más inteligentes y dotados». Un texto donde el erotismo no es la excepción, pues la misma narradora nos cuenta sus aventuras amorosas, aunque en algunos momentos, quizás no privativos, pues hasta su casa llegaba la prostitución como algo natural: “Soy una puta», dije por fin en voz alta, para ver qué efecto me hacía”, pero como dije, algo totalmente ambiguo, pues tenia cierta orientación religiosa, tanto en lo confesional y su devoción a la virgen. Una novela que fue adoptada el cine.
“Al quedarme sola, me sentí casi aliviada en mi dolor por todo lo que había dicho a aquellos dos individuos. Pensé en Mino y pensé en mi hijo. Pensé que iba a nacer de un asesino y una prostituta, pero a todos los hombres les puede suceder matar y a todas las mujeres darse por dinero, y lo que más importaba era que naciera bien y se criase sano y fuerte. Y decidí que si era varón lo llamaría Giacomo en recuerdo de Mino. Pero si era una hembra la llamaría Letizia porque quería que, a diferencia de mí, tuviese una vida alegre y feliz y estaba segura de que, con la ayuda de la familia de Mino, la tendría.”
February 19, 2013
'The Woman of Rome' ('La romana' – Italy, 1947; USA, 1951)
by Alberto Moravia
I can't begin a review this book, which I first read in 1978, without some discussion of prostitution. 'The woman of Rome' is the first-person narrative of a street walker. Not quite the lowest rung on the Roman pay-for-sex ladder, it asks on the cover of the 1951 US edition, Was She Good - or Was She bad?
It will come as no shock to anyone that sex is a commodity bought and sold on the market. And yet, while the sexual revolution of the 1960s and 70s flourished, prostitution remained largely underground. Why was its liberation limited to bigger and brighter red lights districts? The answer seems to be that with marriage no longer the only outlet for lust, the new shame of paying for sex was Inadequacy. On the level playing field of 'free love', anyone resorting to a prostitute was not considered up to the task of attracting a mate. Then it turns out, in kiss-and-tell biographies published since, a good proportion of the 'dolly birds', 'groupies' and 'free-love hippies' on the scene were all the time selling their companionship in one way or another - as were many gay and straight men - through clubs, contact magazines and what have you. Nowadays prostitution is, like, the new rock'n'roll.
'The Woman of Rome' was written just post-World War Two, while the sexual revolution was barely in its gestation period. It is set in 1936, in Mussolini's fascist Italy, a time and place of much give-and-take in private morals. Would it be true to say, therefore, that a different moral code should be applied when reading it? Should we look very differently on Adriana, 'The Woman of Rome', than on a trafficked Asian woman of 2013? According to her own account, Adriana's family has lived in the city for seven generations. The daughter of a seamstress and (deceased) railway worker, at the age of 21 she discovers her chauffeur 'fiancé'/lover is already a husband and father. She is raped by a high official in the fascist police. Thereafter, thwarted of her marriage dream and in order to escape a life of drudgery, she decides to go on the streets. She does so, moreover, with the support and approval of her mother.
A great conundrum is the extent to which Adriana enjoys her sex work and considers it wholesome. Having lost her virginity to the chauffeur, and being raped with the collusion of a friend who is already a prostitute, the life she turns to holds little horror for her; she has a healthy appetite for sleeping with men, young or elderly, strange or familiar. Nor do visits to church and the confessional persuade her there is very much morally wrong in her work. Some of her clients are old and uncouth, others knock her about a bit, and yet she always manages to find some aspect of them attractive enough to be an enthusiastic participant in the bed act. All this would be hard to credit, and harder still with the stark realism of the writing. Somehow, though, Adriana is not a fantasy figure, even in the way she finds sexual fulfilment with both casual clients, and the men she gets deeply involved with. Firmly rooted in her time and setting, it's somehow even possible to picture her life as charmed and idyllic. For Adriana is discerning about who she sleeps with; she only works when she feels in the mood; and she scorns the attitude of her friend Gisella, who forever haggles over money with her clients. Unlike her friend, 'The Woman of Rome' takes a special kind of pride in her profession, as she calls it, never claiming to be anything she is not.
The novel sets Adriana's life against the political situation of the day when she reminds us that 1936 was the year Italy brutally invaded Abyssinia. In revenge for the chauffeur's lies, she has stolen a valuable compact from his employer. It is a small crime but sets off a chain of tragic events that involves all her men: the cheating ex-lover Gino; Astarita, the fascist policeman who is madly in love with her; a psychopathic murderer, Sonzogno; and the student Mino, an anti-fascist with whom she in turn has fallen in love. Her relationship with Mino is scarred by the masochistic acceptance, even enjoyment, of the pain he brings her. He doesn't return her love and neither does he pay her to sleep with him. Nevertheless, she risks everything to help him, even when he lets her - and everyone else - down. No matter how strong Adriana's love for Mino is, she admits it is the brutal Sonzogno who possesses her most completely - a feeling she maintains even in the face of his evil intent. Being the lover of all these men, Adriana takes a little from each. Her positive attitude, although she herself feels suicidal at times, continuously asserts itself and in her way, given that a disastrous war is just around the corner, she comes to represent the spirit and beauty of the Italian people.
I can't help wondering if Moravia wasn't writing from some personal experience in pre-World War Two Italy, as Adriana's voice is so vivid and full of little twists of character. At the same time, the portrayal of a prostitute, without ever stooping into sentimentalism, is so strong and vibrant, Adriana transcends those around her. There are weaknesses in the novel's other portrayals, particularly Astarita's unprobed obsession with the lowly prostitute, but in a way this enforces her otherness, as nobody really deserves her.
Though Moravia was supposed to be an atheist, it would be difficult to read this book without drawing some comparison with the Madonna. In fact there is Adriana's meeting with the mysterious and Christ-like Father Elia and then her – apparently rejected – prayer to the Virgin. There is, at least, a supra-religious statement here regarding the imminent birth of the fatherless child.
As to me, reading the book again after thirty-five years, I am confirmed in my admiration for this kind of writing. Like the two-part film 1900 by Bertolucci (which I saw around the same time I first read the book) it is pellucid (a term the translator chooses twice), stark, super-real and romantic in a detached way. It's easy to fall in love with Adriana, and to maintain a sense of proportion. She is both a fictional character (someone that can't be possessed) and, aw shucks, a prostitute (ditto). I don't think a man could write a book like 'The Woman of Rome' today without receiving a lot of flak – or peppering it with graphic sex. More pertinently, these days it's less credible for an author to paste an uneducated person's voice over a complex narrative. You're going to have to find some clever angle to give it spin. Without all our post-modern clutter, the pulse of this book is strong and inspiring. We could do with a return to writing of this sort.
Note on the text:
The translation in my (lovely old paperback) copy, by Lydia Holland, seems reasonable except for lapses in tense, which frequently attribute habitual behaviour to characters Adriana has just met, as in “he used to...”, or “he would...”. There is also an inconsistency in the plot, when Adriana invites Astarita to visit her the night after Mino reappears, which is a tantamount promise to sleep with him; then six weeks pass before their next meeting. Given Astarita is madly in love with her, it seems rather far-fetched. Perhaps this is also down to a fault in translation - a missed nuance, perhaps - as the action is otherwise delicately plotted?
by Alberto Moravia
I can't begin a review this book, which I first read in 1978, without some discussion of prostitution. 'The woman of Rome' is the first-person narrative of a street walker. Not quite the lowest rung on the Roman pay-for-sex ladder, it asks on the cover of the 1951 US edition, Was She Good - or Was She bad?
It will come as no shock to anyone that sex is a commodity bought and sold on the market. And yet, while the sexual revolution of the 1960s and 70s flourished, prostitution remained largely underground. Why was its liberation limited to bigger and brighter red lights districts? The answer seems to be that with marriage no longer the only outlet for lust, the new shame of paying for sex was Inadequacy. On the level playing field of 'free love', anyone resorting to a prostitute was not considered up to the task of attracting a mate. Then it turns out, in kiss-and-tell biographies published since, a good proportion of the 'dolly birds', 'groupies' and 'free-love hippies' on the scene were all the time selling their companionship in one way or another - as were many gay and straight men - through clubs, contact magazines and what have you. Nowadays prostitution is, like, the new rock'n'roll.
'The Woman of Rome' was written just post-World War Two, while the sexual revolution was barely in its gestation period. It is set in 1936, in Mussolini's fascist Italy, a time and place of much give-and-take in private morals. Would it be true to say, therefore, that a different moral code should be applied when reading it? Should we look very differently on Adriana, 'The Woman of Rome', than on a trafficked Asian woman of 2013? According to her own account, Adriana's family has lived in the city for seven generations. The daughter of a seamstress and (deceased) railway worker, at the age of 21 she discovers her chauffeur 'fiancé'/lover is already a husband and father. She is raped by a high official in the fascist police. Thereafter, thwarted of her marriage dream and in order to escape a life of drudgery, she decides to go on the streets. She does so, moreover, with the support and approval of her mother.
A great conundrum is the extent to which Adriana enjoys her sex work and considers it wholesome. Having lost her virginity to the chauffeur, and being raped with the collusion of a friend who is already a prostitute, the life she turns to holds little horror for her; she has a healthy appetite for sleeping with men, young or elderly, strange or familiar. Nor do visits to church and the confessional persuade her there is very much morally wrong in her work. Some of her clients are old and uncouth, others knock her about a bit, and yet she always manages to find some aspect of them attractive enough to be an enthusiastic participant in the bed act. All this would be hard to credit, and harder still with the stark realism of the writing. Somehow, though, Adriana is not a fantasy figure, even in the way she finds sexual fulfilment with both casual clients, and the men she gets deeply involved with. Firmly rooted in her time and setting, it's somehow even possible to picture her life as charmed and idyllic. For Adriana is discerning about who she sleeps with; she only works when she feels in the mood; and she scorns the attitude of her friend Gisella, who forever haggles over money with her clients. Unlike her friend, 'The Woman of Rome' takes a special kind of pride in her profession, as she calls it, never claiming to be anything she is not.
The novel sets Adriana's life against the political situation of the day when she reminds us that 1936 was the year Italy brutally invaded Abyssinia. In revenge for the chauffeur's lies, she has stolen a valuable compact from his employer. It is a small crime but sets off a chain of tragic events that involves all her men: the cheating ex-lover Gino; Astarita, the fascist policeman who is madly in love with her; a psychopathic murderer, Sonzogno; and the student Mino, an anti-fascist with whom she in turn has fallen in love. Her relationship with Mino is scarred by the masochistic acceptance, even enjoyment, of the pain he brings her. He doesn't return her love and neither does he pay her to sleep with him. Nevertheless, she risks everything to help him, even when he lets her - and everyone else - down. No matter how strong Adriana's love for Mino is, she admits it is the brutal Sonzogno who possesses her most completely - a feeling she maintains even in the face of his evil intent. Being the lover of all these men, Adriana takes a little from each. Her positive attitude, although she herself feels suicidal at times, continuously asserts itself and in her way, given that a disastrous war is just around the corner, she comes to represent the spirit and beauty of the Italian people.
I can't help wondering if Moravia wasn't writing from some personal experience in pre-World War Two Italy, as Adriana's voice is so vivid and full of little twists of character. At the same time, the portrayal of a prostitute, without ever stooping into sentimentalism, is so strong and vibrant, Adriana transcends those around her. There are weaknesses in the novel's other portrayals, particularly Astarita's unprobed obsession with the lowly prostitute, but in a way this enforces her otherness, as nobody really deserves her.
Though Moravia was supposed to be an atheist, it would be difficult to read this book without drawing some comparison with the Madonna. In fact there is Adriana's meeting with the mysterious and Christ-like Father Elia and then her – apparently rejected – prayer to the Virgin. There is, at least, a supra-religious statement here regarding the imminent birth of the fatherless child.
As to me, reading the book again after thirty-five years, I am confirmed in my admiration for this kind of writing. Like the two-part film 1900 by Bertolucci (which I saw around the same time I first read the book) it is pellucid (a term the translator chooses twice), stark, super-real and romantic in a detached way. It's easy to fall in love with Adriana, and to maintain a sense of proportion. She is both a fictional character (someone that can't be possessed) and, aw shucks, a prostitute (ditto). I don't think a man could write a book like 'The Woman of Rome' today without receiving a lot of flak – or peppering it with graphic sex. More pertinently, these days it's less credible for an author to paste an uneducated person's voice over a complex narrative. You're going to have to find some clever angle to give it spin. Without all our post-modern clutter, the pulse of this book is strong and inspiring. We could do with a return to writing of this sort.
Note on the text:
The translation in my (lovely old paperback) copy, by Lydia Holland, seems reasonable except for lapses in tense, which frequently attribute habitual behaviour to characters Adriana has just met, as in “he used to...”, or “he would...”. There is also an inconsistency in the plot, when Adriana invites Astarita to visit her the night after Mino reappears, which is a tantamount promise to sleep with him; then six weeks pass before their next meeting. Given Astarita is madly in love with her, it seems rather far-fetched. Perhaps this is also down to a fault in translation - a missed nuance, perhaps - as the action is otherwise delicately plotted?
May 1, 2023
Tengo opiniones encontradas con este libro. Le daría un 3,5.
No está mal, pero flojea en muchos aspectos. Además me chirría mucho que un hombre (Alberto Moravia) se ponga en la piel de una mujer, hablando en primera persona de unos sentimientos que bajo mi punto de vista a veces romantizan la prostitución en exceso.
Con esto no quiero parecer woke. Es un libro de su tiempo y hay que entenderlo en ese contexto. Pero tampoco la trama, demasiado previsible, ayuda a engancharte.
No está mal, pero flojea en muchos aspectos. Además me chirría mucho que un hombre (Alberto Moravia) se ponga en la piel de una mujer, hablando en primera persona de unos sentimientos que bajo mi punto de vista a veces romantizan la prostitución en exceso.
Con esto no quiero parecer woke. Es un libro de su tiempo y hay que entenderlo en ese contexto. Pero tampoco la trama, demasiado previsible, ayuda a engancharte.
April 23, 2024
Haven't been able to pick up a book since Birkley's passing because he should be the one reading, not me. But I knew he would yell at me if I stopped reading all together so I had to finish this masterpiece. It's somewhat terrifying that a man wrote this because it captures the young female experience in relationships so well. I feel like Moravia has been listening to my thoughts. Will be thinking about this book for awhile.
May 27, 2018
"A Romana" deve ser o primeiro livro que li no qual o autor não dá nenhum desfecho para o personagem principal, não dá nenhum desfecho para a trama principal. Um livro promissor que se estraga nas duas últimas páginas. É como se Moravia, cansado de escrever, tivesse largado de súbito a pena, sem resolver o drama - ainda que fosse um final "aberto" - de Adriana, a protagonista. Decepcionante.
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