So much about this book is risible, though Tarchetti seems in dead earnest. So is his narrator, Giorgio,although no one who takes pains to tell us how preternaturally sensitive a soul he is is likely to have a large store of humour. And deathly serious as well is Fosca, the invalid with whom Giorgio becomes entangled. Their relationship, the subject of the novel, is the result of Giorgio's declaring his love to Fosca.

He does this, though he finds her repellent (too skinny), after a doctor tells him that if he does not do so, Fosca will die. (He finds consolation in the doctor's subsequent warning that their 'love' must remain unconsummated, as, once again, Fosca would otherwise die. Later still the doctor issues another alert: If Fosca doesn't die soon, Giorgio must instead die of the same contagious strain of hysteria. Giorgio is too occupied with agonising to tell us whether the doctor was finally removed from the register.) If you were to imagine a parody of a Decadent novel narrated by a parody of a Romantic hero you might imagine something a bit like this book. It can't be excused as a product of its time--it must have seemed silly in 1869--and Tarchetti isn't accomplished enough a writer to get away with it: He's no Zola and this is no Therese Racquin, no over-heated melodrama that is redeemed by good atmospheric writing.

What makes the book of more than historical interest is Fosca herself. I can't at the moment remember another fictional character so monstrous as she. Clinging, hysterical, utterly selfish, manipulative, demanding, she's credible--and therefore hateful--partly because in her case as opposed to the narrator's Tarchetti does a good job of showing what she's like rather than telling us and partly, no doubt, because her traits are merely an exaggeration of ones we've all seen in everyday life. A perfect villain (though I'm not at all sure that that's how Tarchetti intended the reader to regard her) and a memorable character. It's because of her that the book was worth reading.

Venuti, the translator of the Oneworld edition I read, interjects slangy modern American phrases into well-researched 19th-century English (and gives his reason for doing so, my translation of which is 'I dumbed it down for the American market'). So be prepared to tack from 'I was utterly in want of love; when one is unloved, vanity lacks any reason to exist. . . .' to 'Time flies when you're having fun.'

(A fair while after writing that much I came across a credible post saying that the novel was actually a satirical take on an Itailan literary movement of the period that apparently emboldened those who would write the likes of Decadent novels as told by Romantic heroes. In that case, Tarchetti most certainly does have a sense of humour & as well it's just possible that the segments of the transaltion I found jarring were knowledgeably in the spirit of Tarchetti's tone.)

De zeden van de tijd doen de wenkbrauwen geamuseerd optrekken tijdens het lezen van Fosca. Zichzelf lichamelijk ziek maken door simpelweg lief te hebben, het is niet meer van deze tijd. Met net geen 225 pagina's biedt Fosca een wonderlijke blik op de geschiedenis, maar nóg meer pathetische hartenkreten zouden wellicht wat te veel van het goede zijn.
Volledige bespreking via http://wraakvandedodo.blogspot.be/2014/12/iginio-ugo-tarchetti-fosca.html ( )

Un joven oficial se debate entre el amor de la bella pero infiel Clara y la atracción que siente por Fosca, una mujer fea y epiléptica. ( )

853.8 TAR