A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in Brixton Village having a cup of tea with a friend of mine. We sat talking about university, and for a moment we discussed our respective grades. The person with whom I was enjoying my tea is incredibly bright - it's apparent from the very moment that you meet her - and it came as no surprise that she graduated in English Literature with a First. As I always do when I meet successful people, I asked her if she had a formula that had helped her achieve her good grades. Normally, when I ask this question, most people are reluctant to give an honest answer, because, perhaps, they'd prefer me to believe that it's intelligence alone that wins out, when we all know that this is very much not true. Intelligence alone really doesn't achieve much without some sort of strategy. However, this particular friend had absolutely no qualms about divulging the secret of her academic success, and she told me:

As soon as she'd told me her method I immediately thought; "Of course! How simple, how ingenious." Indeed, the best strategies are always the simple ones. The ones that aren't complex enough to ever catch you out but that still get the job done. 

Ever since this conversation I've been mulling over this advice, and I just happened to notice that Italo Calvino employs this same simple strategy in a number of the essays in The Literature Machine. The collection features thirty-two pieces of writing, most of which are essays or printed lectures but there are also a few pieces dedicated to influential literary and artistic influencers who had recently passed away. I decided to break down this three-hundred page tome by reading approximately five pieces of writing per day, choosing them at random each time. This system worked well for me as I was able to begin with the pieces I knew I'd like ("Why Read the Classics", "The Odysseys Within The Odyssey" & "In Memory of Roland Barthes") which, in turn, encouraged me to go on and read things that I otherwise might have skipped. 

I should probably start off by saying that this collection wasn't exactly what I expected. My only previous experience with Calvino's writing was when I read Invisible Cities, so I guess I began with a slightly skewed perspective on what his non-fiction "voice" might be like. From the very first essay I read ("Cybernetics and Ghosts"), I realised that Calvino's writing is absolutely jam packed, and there's a certain pleasure in not only reading it slowly but also in re-reading it. Most of the pieces of writing in the collection are on topics and authors with which I'm not terribly familiar. Usually I find it intimidating to jump in at the deep end, but I actually find that Calvino's writing serves as a great introduction. It's definitely helped to rekindle my interest in reading more of Ovid's Metamorphoses (I read a couple of books for my A-Levels but never pursued it further), and after years of not thinking one solitary thought about Voltaire I'm now pretty keen to dig into Candide. Sometimes it takes someone's peculiarly specific interest to ignite your own, and that's exactly what these essays have done for me.

I'm fascinated by the breadth and depth of the knowledge that Calvino demonstrates throughout this collection, and the complexity of his writing worked to suck me in. There are some pieces in the collection that didn't quite hook me, but then there are others that I read over and over again. The essay in the collection that really stands out for me, and which I'll be talking about in more detail today, is "The Pen in the First Person". This essay was written to function as the introduction to a book about Saul Steinberg, a twentieth-century illustrator who has most notably been featured in The New Yorker. Calvino praises Steinberg's multifaceted talents, especially his ability to draw upon many different styles. However, it takes Calvino some time to get to these words of praise. Instead, he begins by talking about Guido Cavalcanti (lived 1255-1300, Florentine poet, friend of Dante) and the self-awareness of his poetry. Calvino points out that not only does Cavalcanti refer to his pens and pencils as though they're animate, but that he actively draws attention to the "written" nature of this literary art form. Calvino finally links Cavalcanti's poetry with Steinberg's illustrations by comparing their mutual self-awareness as created objects, which, in both cases, is achieved with reference to the tools of creation; the pen, the brush etc. In this way, Calvino not only links two otherwise distant artists but he also interweaves artistic genres and accomplishments. This connection serves as just one example of the tangled world of artistic representation that Calvino continues to talk about throughout the essay.

Overall, I think that "The Pen in the First Person" is wonderfully written, and I feel that it successfully flits between its references to Cavalcanti, Steinberg Michelangelo and Gallileo - taking the reader on a multi-layered metaphorical voyage through poetry, art and even across the Mediterranean sea. I think that the success of this essay is probably down to Calvino's fast-paced writing style which is a perfect match for the expression of a tangled web of ideas. As Calvino writes he both creates and unmakes the tangles, and by the time you've finished reading you find that you've unwound a neat story of artistic interconnectivity. I think I'd definitely have to give myself more time (than my one week to read and then write something) to write something more in-depth about this essay, but for now I'm happy to mull it over some more.

Overall, when I had both the time and patience to make the most of them, I found these short essays really rewarding. I'd definitely recommend The Literature Machine, and I'd also recommend my process of working through the collection. Pick out a couple of different titles that sound interesting each day and work through the book like that. It kept my interest levels up and it made every reading experience feel more like a discovery than a daily reading quota.

Book 1/50