Everyone is miserable, including me. ( )

Interesting novel made up entirely of letters from and to various characters. Some of the characters are very interesting, very few are delightful. ( )

A brief epistolary novel and a very good one. I actually had to read this one twice. There are a lot of characters, and the family situation described here is complicated, but what really made "Happiness as Such" rough going the first time around is that when a chapter began with a letter, it was difficult to tell who was writing, or rather, narrating. This was confusing, but it also made the experience of reading this one more involving: the author succeeds in putting the reader in the place of the character being addressed. There's a lot of heavy emotional stuff here: deaths in the family, divorces, loneliness, and at least two wayward youths. Ginzburg's decision to structure the novel as she did enhances its emotional impact.

Many of the letters in "Happiness as Such" can be fond, personal, or heartfelt. Some passages of this book reveal, while others purposely seem to omit the most important point being made. This is, in other words, a well-written book full of good writers. But one of the reasons I really enjoyed this novel is that the entire thing is, in a sense, a letter from a past that seems very far away now. You might as well ask if anyone could set a novel like this in the present day: who, after all, still writes letters? But Ginzburg is also describing an Italy in which young men routinely got involved with violent leftist movements and in which you had to fight to get a phone line installed in your house. I was surprised, and rather saddened, to realize that just about all of the correspondents would have passed on by now. "Happiness as Such" has many of the familiar novelistic elements: love and disappointment and anxiety and attachment -- specifically the kind that people find difficult to explain. We meet relatives and in-laws and friends and employees and employees and lovers, and they all interact as can be expected, more or less. But when I finished this one -- for the second time -- I couldn't help feeling that I'd read a history -- to put it rather grandly -- of the passage of a group of people on the earth. Most of these people would be gone now, or well past retirement age, but we've still got their letters. That's an argument for writing a novel and, I suppose, for writing letters, too. ( )

When I saw this book in the bookstore, I had to buy it immediately, based on how much I loved The Dry Heart I was absolutely not disappointed.

A novel composed of letters, most of which are written to or about the missing Michele, who has fled Italy to England. The characters are amazing and messy, it is clear that they do not understand each other, or Michele. The picture we develop of Michele as we read is of course always shifting, as everyone seems to have an unreliable grasp on reality to some extent (especially Mara, the mother of a young child who may(?) be Michele's, and whose life is a series of dodging one disaster after another, always blaming someone else for the mess she is currently in.)

There is humor, but it is the kind of dark humor that you sometimes wonder if you should quite be laughing at. It's all a lot of chaos, but then there are also machine guns and riots and fascists, so it's complicated. ( )

Este libro nos presenta la historia de un hijo perdido, Miguel, que abandonó de joven su familia, que se casó en un país lejano y que, tras una vida poco ordenada, murió en otro país lejano en circunstancias poco claras. Su madre podrá llorarlo, pero no entender sus secretos. Retomando una vieja forma narrativa, la novela epistolar, Natalia Ginzburg enhebra con maestría asuntos nucleares de su quehacer literario: la relación entre generaciones y la proximidad y lejanía de lo humano. Si bien esta novela se sitúa bajo el signo de la dispersión de los sentimientos y de su incomunicabilidad, apunta, por encima de todo, a la soledad esencial y su vacío