Gabriele D'Annunzio (1863–1938)

This title is another example of a work by D'Annunzio to feature a Nietzschean 'higher type, but he doesn't harp on about this dubious type, its more apparent in the character's actions than any overt philosophical stance. Its clear D'Annunzio identified with this figure from the biographical details of his life, but if we can separate the sometimes repellant author from the work we're left with a thrilling psychological study, like a decadent Dostoyevsky, with a penetrative insight into human affairs, so acute it must have come from personal introspection. The anti-hero Tullio knows his actions are reprehensible by any decent moral standard but he is compelled to act according to his own dictates precisely because he is a Nietzschean. To give D'Annunzio some credit I don't think he holds Tullio in a necessarily favourable light and it gives thought to the consideration that in the author's lucid moments he had some misgivings about his own philosophy even though the trajectory of his life seems to belie this. Anyway, as a reading experience, this could hardly be bettered, its both entertaing and disturbing. Much of the narrative is focused on the internal monologue of Tullio as he faces moral decisions and a life in turmoil as he faces the fact that much of the tragic events described are self-created as the plot builds and builds into a shocking finale with an exquisite style in the decadent mould. I preferred this to The Triumph of Death, it seemed paradoxically a more human story despite the horrible actions described.… (mere)

It seems impossible not to preface a review of D'Annunzio without remarking that he wasn't the most admirable of men, not least for his association with Mussolini. Generally I judge a work on it's merits though and there's much to admire in this novel with beautiful writing and just the right amount of scene setting. The descriptions of romantic ardour may seem excessive but this is decadence afterall. There's some really exquisite imagery throughout and he could tell a story with acute psychological insight. The narrator, George, seems to live only for his love interest, swinging between exalted love and outright despair but also afflicted with a lassitude which makes him question life's worth. He is a 'higher type' in the Nietzschean sense and you have to question the character's contempt for the 'lower classes' and his 'disdain for commonplace existence'. An exception is his emotional bond with his sister which seems the most 'real' relationship here, so exalted and unreal seems his possessive and destructive love of his love, Hippolyte. A startling part of the book is a description of a pilgrimage which is replete with grotesque detail of the infirm and George's contempt is evident here, though later he shows tenderness in observing the scene of a drowned boy's death. His obsession with death makes this quite an un-life-affirming read and its philosophy is contentious, but the writing is superb.… (mere)