First about the author, because it’s a fascinating but sad story:

Guido Morselli (b. 1912) wrote consistently from a remote town in the lake region of Lombardy, Italy where he lived alone, Morselli succeeded in publishing only two books over the course of his life: an essay on Proust and Realism and Invention, 1947. His dozens of works of fiction, journalism, and philosophy were repeatedly rejected by publishers over 33 years. After he committed suicide in 1973 he was suddenly a literary success and his works were published in Italy (only a few in English). The Italian literary establishment questioned how this could have happened.



This book is a fast-moving historical novel of Italy’s King Umberto I during the Belle Epoque or Fin de Siècle. The King is disgusted by the constant paperwork and incessant interruptions and requests for favors. He has a low option of pretty much all who work for him.

He decides to shave his head and take a vacation in Switzerland incognito as a traveling businessman (with a dozen or so aides and servants). He hunts in a group but mostly he delights in walking alone on mountain trails in the cold fog or by himself or through the town where he can stop in at a tavern and eat alone. He has a brief affair with a younger woman and an older one. There are various adventures such as a coaching accident, a journalist and photographer finding him out, and an almost-meeting with his cousin Wilheim II Germany.



I would not say this is a great literary classic but I d the writing and the story and it has a lot of humor.

Some lines I d:

“…a man is fit to live only as long as he excites women and scares men.”

[the Swiss say] “Italians murder each other without cease, and preferably without motive…”

“Today [King Umberto] is neither celebrated nor denigrated. To tell the truth, he is not even remembered.”



A good read for those who a light historical novel.

Top: King Umberto from wikipedia
Middle photo: Surenen Pass Trail in the Swiss Alps from i.redd.it
Photo of the author from comottihome.files.wordpress.com
historical-novel italian-authors77 s Pat418 106

Eccolo, nella calura estiva, l’Umberto coronato, triste e depresso.
Ci mancava il vecchio cedro folgorato dal fulmine in giardino. “Stavolta è toccata a te”, gli dice. E a lui? Quando toccherà a lui? Si sa, un uomo a trentacinque anni è al culmine, a quaranta inizia il declino. A quarantacinque, il tracollo. Quarantacinque anni. L’età del disfacimento. Il suo. Seppur regale.
E carte, carte, carte. Firme, firme e ancora carte. Mestiere facchinesco e inutile.
Sempre su e giù per l’Italia malmessa inseguito da carte e corrieri. Lui, il re, il regio nulla che regna e non governa, e che niente può cambiare.
E poi la casa e la famiglia. “Due case e due famiglie”. A dire il vero.
Il re è stufo!
Fuggire dalla realtà soffocante. Ma come? L’occasione arriva. La proposta di acquisto di un suo terreno da parte della signora Frederika von Goltz vedova Krupp. Tratterà l’affare di persona. Viaggerà in treno sotto mentite spoglie col suo piccolo seguito. Sono cinque in tutto. E lui, il re, per non essere riconosciuto, oltre al nome s’è cambiato i connotati: ha ordinato al barbiere di rasargli la testa. A zero.
Inizia il divertimento.

Una “Storia semplice, che non implica niente: e che non insegna niente, essendo troppo noto che non c’è vita per quanto infausta e sfortunata, dove non entri la commedia”, ci informa Morselli.

Un gioco di simulazioni, d’invenzioni verosimili ma non vere.
L’artifizio vince. Divertimento. Divertissement.
Ma tra un divertissement e l’altro c’è un che di fatale.
Guido, come Umberto si sentiva soffocare da un mondo malevolo.
I suoi manoscritti furono respinti ripetutamente da ogni editore.
L’ultimo rifiuto nel 1973, con Dissipatio H.G.
Nella notte del 30 Luglio dello stesso anno, Morselli si tolse la vita. “Senza rancori”, scrisse.
Un anno dopo la sua morte sarebbe uscito, pubblicato d Adelphi, “Contro-passato prossimo: un’ipotesi retrospettiva”.
Anche lui, come il re avrebbe avuto il suo titolo.
“Scrittore postumo”.
Divertissement “inconsistente”, per Guido che non poteva più sapere.
Leggetelo. Leggiamolo. Ricordiamolo.italia8 s Swansreach1 review2 Read

Non consiglio il libro.

Il libro è scritto bene, con pochi fronzoli, però ci sono alcune parti in francese e in inglese non tradotte, immagino per scelta dell'autore. La maggior parte della sostanza sono i dialoghi interiori del re Umberto I, protagonista del libro, e i dialoghi tra gli altri personaggi e tra gli altri personaggi e il protagonista.

Il re non è messo in luce positiva (anche se nella postfazione c'è scritto che il re non è né celebrato né criticato), invece la personalità di molti degli altri personaggi si perde un po'. Ci sono alcuni aspetti comici.

Il problema del libro è che non c'è un messaggio/un obiettivo nel testo, è un romanzo scritto un po' così (come scritto nella postfazione, o almeno io l'ho interpretata in quel modo). Il leggere le vicende di nobili o ricchi borghesi che fanno cose moralmente sbagliate o cose da ricchi di fine ottocento mi dà molto poco.historical-fiction letteratura-italiana quandonontraducoleggo163 100

un delizioso divertissement900italiano1 Eustachio695 70

Che rabbia pensare a Morselli suicida pubblicato (e riconosciuto e apprezzato) solo postumo.
Il libro in sé è fine a sé stesso nel senso più buono del termine: solo una parentesi immaginaria nella vita di una figura storica reale (reale in tutti i sensi, come sono simpatico!). Lo dice anche Morselli nella nota finale:Cara lettrice, la storia che hai avuto sott’occhio, arcaica e ingenua come questo mio rivolgermi a Te, non va più in là di ciò che dice. […] Storia semplice, che non implica niente […]Non succede granché, gli ostacoli non sono davvero tali e non va a parare da nessuna parte. Ogni tanto fa sorridere.
Ha uno stile che definirei indiretto, del tipo che basta distrarsi un attimo per non capire a cosa si riferisce o a cosa alluda. Esempio:Scomparve il personale, rimasero soli. Per quanto lusingato dall’epilogo probabile, lo sentiva avvicinarsi con apprensione, relativa agli strapazzi della giornata. Poi si comportò con onore (senza rendersi conto di chi dei due avesse preso l’iniziativa; la signora fu liberalmente disinvolta). Non erculeo, ma esauriente. E contro il suo solito, delicato, con finezze di ritegni e di indugi.
Si uniformava all’eleganza, e intelligenza, del corpo che si moveva vicino al suo. Più tardi si capacitò di avere subìto quella superiorità, e gliene serbò il debito, maschile, rancore.Mi aspettavo una sorta di Sovrana lettrice , ma in comune hanno solo un monarca che cerca una fuga più o meno breve dalle costrizioni della carica.
Comunque di Morselli voglio leggere altro, se non tutto.italiani romanzi Mara S111 1 follower

"Parliamo bene il francese, abbastanza bene il piemontese, abbastanza male l'italiano, e basta".
Lo dice re Umberto I, protagonista di questo raccontino che Morselli dice di essersi molto divertito a scrivere. E mi molto divertita io a leggerla, questa storiella lieve e un pò farsesca del re d'Italia che, per risanare le sue traballanti finanze personali, va in Svizzera in incognito per vendere il castello di Visé ad una ricca dama tedesca (che peraltro impallina, anche se a 45 anni it's all downhill from here).
Al di là delle imprese amorose e venatorie - nessuna rimarchevole - il re scopre che fare il borghese non è poi così male, e quando gli si affaccia il sospetto di non essere poi così indispensabile alle sorti del regno, non è troppo dispiaciuto.
JacquiWine568 126

When Guido Morselli took his own life at the age of sixty, Italy may well have lost one of its finest writers. Up until the time of his death in 1973, not one of Morselli’s novels had been accepted for publication; all seven were subsequently published in Italy, where Morselli now seems to have gained the recognition he so richly deserved at the time. Sadly for us, only one of his books appears to be available in English: Divertimento 1889, an utterly charming story of an escape from royal life during the Belle Époque period of the late 19th century.

Morselli uses Umberto I, King of Italy from 1878 to 1900, as a model for his fictional protagonist. As the novel opens, we find the King in his office in Monza (the Royal Place in the North of Italy), weighed down by a mountain of paperwork and official duties. His mood is somewhat dispirited as he reflects on the tedium of life as a royal, a role that offers him very little satisfaction or sense of achievement.

This futile slavish job of his, condemned to trail the length and breadth of his ungrateful land – dusty, disjointed Italy – with no power and no responsibilities and yet pursued everywhere by papers and couriers, as though it all depended on him, as though he could alter a thing. Still, nothing but trials and tribulations. One headache after another. And his Household to think of, his family. Two households, two families. And himself caught between the two of them, bored stiff with both, and with his need for freedom, for seclusion. (pg. 5)

It soon becomes clear that the King is living beyond his means. He is married, there is his lover to think of, plus the estates to maintain, all of which means that his outgoings have been exceeding his incomings in recent years. Luckily for the King, a solution may be close to hand. When one of his advisers, the rather dashing Vigliotti, informs him that a lady has expressed interest in purchasing one of his properties – a rustic castle in Monferatto – the King sees an opportunity to solve all his financial problems. With this in mind, he dispatches Vigliotti to Switzerland to sound out the lady in question, a certain Frederika von Goltz. As Frau von Goltz is currently convalescing at home in Wassen, the King wonders whether this development might not present another lucky break. Why not accompany Vigliotti to Switzerland so as to be on hand if required during the negotiation of the sale? Furthermore, as The King is keen to keep any potential deal under wraps, a plan begins to hatch in his mind – why not travel incognito? It would be a chance to experience life as an ordinary human being, even if only for a week or two. All at once his mood lightens considerably.

Adventure? Why yes, in so far as it was a complete novelty. In his line of business the most appropriate description for time off, even a vacation, would be hard labour. On holiday at Racconigi or San Rossore he would be lucky to get three hours a day to call his own. The Royal Palace at Monza was no better than a branch office of headquarters in Rome. Journeys by land or sea, visits to friends, hunting or fishing parties, all came down to strict timetables and fixed itineraries, more or less official engagements. But this was right out of the ordinary. An incognito which was not a joke. Turning himself into Signor X or Y or Z would be being born again, or living in a different world. And outside Italy as well, where it need not be a delusion, it might even last. (pg. 20)

Once the requisite preparations have been made, the King and a small group of his most trusted advisers set out by train, the ‘official’ reason for their visit being a hunting trip to the Swiss Alps. The King, who is travailing under the alias of Count Moriana, is delighted to arrive at his destination in Goeschenen; the Hotel Adler is simple yet comfortable.

The next afternoon, the King discovers one of the small pleasures in life as he takes a leisurely walk by himself. Un all the other foreign visitors who stop to gaze at the landscape surrounding Goeschenen, the King is lost in his own thoughts; nothing else exists outside the private happiness of his world.

Girls up from the valley of the Reuss with baskets of bilberries and cyclamen still had things left to sell, laid out beside them in the backs of carts where they sat, in their black flower-embroidered skirts and white stockings, their legs dangling. He was alone, praise God, in the midst of these people who knew nothing of him. No escort, no bodyguard, no police commissars clumsily got up as civilians for a man who normally could go nowhere without outriders and a whole ‘train’ of swallow tailcoats and kepis festooned with gold braid – guarded, insulted, assaulted, or acclaimed and showered with flowers. He felt no temptation to take the mountain road, happy to promenade up and down between the hotel and the post-station, passing the occasional tourist armed with guidebook and binoculars or country folk making their way home from market or returning with full panniers from their mountain-pastures. (pg 42-43)

To read the rest of my review, please click here:

https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2016...


Anna von G.129 2

Molto bello, Samantha Mitchell8 2

Morselli shot himself in the head in 1973, after the brutal life of being a rejected writer. Of course, after his death, his novels were rediscovered and found to be of great interest to the Italian intelligentsia. Divertimento 1889 tells the story of one of Italy’s last kings, incognito on vacation from his regency. Enjoying the alps virtually unaccompanied, the king enjoys his escape from his duties and the petty dramas of the court. A critic quoted on the book jacket compared the novel to Nabokov, and from the embellished satire and amusing wit found therein, I’d say it’s a pretty apt comparison.

This book was a gift from my good friend Katie , from the used bookstore she used to work for. I don’t know if I would have picked it for myself, but I’m pleasantly surprised by how much I d it. Eric273 14

what a wonderful book this is! tho the back cover blurbs used the "N" word more than once (Nabokovian), this put me more in the mind of another favorite expatriot master of storytelling: Lubitsch. those bygone days (did they ever exist?) when palace intrigue was as light and fluffy as the clouds that hover over idyllic european villages...thoroughly charming, surprisingly moving, this gem was delicious & way too short. the narrative tone, sometimes abrupt & mockingly informative (opening line: "parasols, parasols, parasols."), always entertaining. a perfect final novel for me as I turn toward nonfiction for a while. its spell will stay with me. Arne84 1 follower

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