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I Malavoglia : Naturalism and Verismo
Author: Thomas Goddard Bergin Date: 1931 From: Giovanni Verga Publisher: Yale University Press Reprint In: Twentieth-Century Literary Criticism(Vol. 227. ) Document Type: Critical essay Length: 6,754 words Full Text: [(essay date 1931) In the following essay, Bergin assesses The House by the Medlar Tree, noting its central theme of human ambition overcome by fate and delineating its differences from Verga's earlier fiction. ] Inasmuch as Verga is by the united acclaim of the critic and the dilettante the greatest Italian novelist after Manzoni,^1 and since he owes this position to I Malavoglia, it will be worth our while to consider this novel in some detail. The author has rather uncharacteristically made the task easy for us. I take it as an indication of a confidence that he had probably not previously felt in his work that he permits himself to make an introduction to I Malavoglia. This introduction is both a profession of faith and a statement of program. He sees humanity as a grand river moving on from a humble origin to a great conclusion. In the early stages of this progress, that is, among the lower classes of the social world, men as a rule have only one desire, and that the primitive one of keeping body and soul together. There will be among this class a few who are conscious that this is not all in life, who feel "the vague desire for something beyond them, a dim realization that they might be better off,"^2 a dissatisfaction with their almost inhuman existence. These few will grow beyond their primitive conditions or fail somewhat ingloriously in the attempt, and when they have got beyond this stage we shall be at the second group in society: the bourgeoisie. These, it is true, no longer live as beasts; indeed they are well off and have attained everything desirable from the point of view of the discontented peasant; but there will be, even among these, a certain group conscious of that same " vaga bramosia dell'ignoto. "^3 These will seek social distinction as something better than mere material well-being. Thus the series runs through political ambition and artistic effort, and finally culminates in the man who sums up, as it were, all these stages and desires, and is left with nothing to look forward to. It is worth noticing in this hierarchy that the lower classes, strictly speaking, are not to receive more than their due share of treatment and in the novels which Verga intended to write depicting various stages in this ascent only one, I Malavoglia, was to deal with the masses.^4 These tales then are to be a broad canvas depicting the slow inevitable flow of the river of social life. But we are to see this river from the point of view of " i vinti, " the conquered, those, in other words, who, dissatisfied with the group in which they find themselves, try to improve their state and fail. Having presented the general idea the author proceeds to state his methods. He is to be the dispassionate observer. We are here studying not a romance but facts. Hence of this " cammino fatale "^5 we are to be given the observer's point of view in order that truth may not be distorted. The story of these vinti is to be presented with " colori addatti, "^6 that is, with strict attention to realistic details, and the scene is to be put before us exactly as it really is or " exactly as it should be. " It is to be noted that this credo presents theories already evident in Nedda and Vita dei campi. And it is refreshing to turn to the book and find that the author gives us exactly what he promises in the preface. We can only regret that he did not go on with the rest of "I vinti" and that out of the great picture of society here sketched for us only two small portions are filled in. I Malavoglia is a story of a family of fisher-folk, located, with the author's customary geographic precision, in the tiny village of Aci- Trezza near Catania. The principal characters are the old grandfather, Padron 'Ntoni, whose philosophy is neatly summed up in the two proverbs: "A ogni uccello suo nido è bello," and "Per menare il remo bisogna che le cinque dita della mano si aiutano l'un l'altro, "^7 and his grandson, young 'Ntoni, who is the vinto of the book. He it is who feels the longing for something better and the insufficiency of his grandfather's sturdy but humble philosophy. But there are numerous other characters; a brood of young and loquacious Malavoglias and an entire village are open to the eager or impatient exploration of the reader. Indeed the panorama is so spacious as to be somewhat bewildering, for while 'Ntoni is the hero, as the author indicates in the preface, he is no hero to himself or to the rest of the village, and Verga is not ready to ruin his theoretical objectivity by undue concentration on any one character. The story is full of numerous details; it is the story of the vicissitudes of this poor family: it is a tragedy for both old 'Ntoni and his grandson. The Malavoglia lose their house, their ship, and their honor; and young 'Ntoni's ambition leads him not to wealth but to prison. The author's impersonality is beautifully maintained; both sides of the question are presented almost unconsciously, as it were, by young and old 'Ntoni, and the reader may choose for himself which to approve. And the style that Verga had cultivated in Vita dei campi -- based on highly idiomatic conversation--here is found in its perfection. The story is told almost entirely in a series of rapidly moving
dialogues; even when the author puts in an expository paragraph he speaks as one of the fishermen. And this highly artificial assumption of simplicity is maintained for some three hundred pages, no small literary accomplishment. The background of the story affords the author an excellent opportunity to develop his sketch of Sicilian characters that he began in the two previous titles we have considered. Some of the individuals of I Malavoglia become types with whom we are destined to become familiar later on. There is, for example, the rich Don Silverstro, the political boss and practically ruler of the village. Rich as he is, there are those who can remember him coming to Trezza "without shoes to his feet."^8 There is the town druggist who is a republican and a freemason and preaches incessantly the need for a Revolution, even a violent one if need be--except when his wife is within earshot. Don Giammaria, the parish priest, is, as we would expect, at the other extreme and still longs for the Bourbon restoration. There is the village doctor, lonely as a character in Chekov and made cynical by the superstition of the people. There is the inevitable husband-hunter, indeed we have two specimens of this type; and the opposite, the girl who is so rich that her parents cannot find a worthy--that is, equally wealthy--mate for her. These are types which we shall find Verga returning to again and again; and in his later novels he will elaborate them, put them in various positions and tell and retell tales of them but he will add actually very few characters to the dramatis personae of I Malavoglia. Local color is also laid on by political references. The tale begins in 1863, when young 'Ntoni is called to military service. The battle of Lissa and the cholera of 1867 help us to keep the passage of years in mind. The author's artistic sincerity is incidentally quite admirable in the treatment of the attitude of Trezza toward the war with Austria and international affairs in general. Verga was himself, as we have seen, an enthusiastic patriot but he does not read his sentiments into the Malavoglia and their friends. Most of them do not know what the war is about; when the news of Lissa penetrates to the village it comes as a report of "a battle between our men and enemy, nobody knew who they were,"^9 and probably the battle would have meant nothing at all to these people had not Luca Malavoglia gone down with the Re d'Italia. And they cannot be shaken in their conviction that all taxes are the work of Don Silvestro: they literally cannot conceive of a central government. The feeling of destiny, and destiny directed by the vagaries of nature, is, of course, even more marked in a society which is founded on the uncertain benevolence of the sea. Indeed the whole tragedy of the Malavoglia is traceable to the loss of their barca in a storm. The spiritual problem of 'Ntoni is something apart perhaps, but the decline of the family is certainly a result of accident rather than incapacity. Rod even calls nature " le héros de ses livres. "^10 The fatalism which is necessarily bound up with this conception of an all-powerful nature is repeatedly illustrated in I Malavoglia. The dialogue between three of the Malavoglia at the mercy of a storm at sea is perhaps one of the greatest scenes in all Verga's work.^11 The old man, young 'Ntoni, and the boy Alessi each in his own way expresses the innate fatalism of the people. For old 'Ntoni we are " nelle mani di Dio, " and there is nothing more to be said. Young 'Ntoni, after making all possible efforts to keep their boat from running ashore, contents himself with telling Alessi that "he'd better keep still; nobody's going to hear him cry":^12 and the three of them silently await their fate with the stoicism born of years of struggle with nature. Almost equally memorable is the scene wherein Mena gives up her lover, Alfio, who is leaving Trezza. She is engaged to another and Alfio has not enough money to present himself as her suitor. It occurs to neither of them to contemplate breaking the laws of the society in which they live nor even to complain of their fate. "Cosi vuol Dio," says Mena, "ora vi saluto e me ne vado." Alfio's reply sums up in one crushing sentence, full of pathetic and unconscious commentary, the pessimistic fatalism of this people: "Anche il mio asino va dove lo faccio andare."^13 Like Nedda, like practically all the tales of Vita dei campi, the background of the home is never forgotten: it is not merely a part of the scenario but a real force in the development of plot and character. The efforts of all the Malavoglia, save young 'Ntoni, are directed toward keeping the home together, and even 'Ntoni's wanderings have the eventual welfare of his family as their indirect motivation. Russo has commented on this feature,^14 and indeed it is obvious, but it seems almost equally obvious that such an attitude toward the home is by no means an innovation in Verga. The duplication that we have seen beginning in Vita dei campi goes on a little more extensively in I Malavoglia. Young 'Ntoni has any number of points in common with Turiddu of "Cavalleria rusticana." Like Turiddu he goes away to be a soldier and leaves behind him a sweetheart who proves faithless. Like Turiddu, he finds consolation in another maid, nor does he scorn the opportunities for oblivion provided by the village osteria. The canvas is larger and the character of 'Ntoni is studied more thoroughly. But they are the same person, good-hearted, weak-headed, disappointed lovers, vaguely discontented with the peaceful life at home after the broadening influence of army life. 'Ntoni struts around exactly like Turiddu and some of the phrases used to describe his activities have a very familiar ring. This is the most marked case of borrowing perhaps. But it is not the only one. It seems hardly pure chance that Alfio should be the name of the carter both in "Cavalleria rusticana" and I Malavoglia, or that the sick mother, La Longa, should recall so vividly the mother of Nedda. It may be said that I Malavoglia sums up all the elements of the so-called new style of Verga. It has all the characteristics and even some of the characters we found in Nedda and Vita dei campi, but it is the most sure and confident presentation in this line that the author has yet produced. It is clear that he will never go back on a large scale to the type of the early novels. We can, then, no longer postpone this question: why did Verga abandon the youthful formula which made Eva and Eros widely popular and seemed destined to guarantee him success, and substitute for it something that made his preëminence very uncertain and in popularity never could equal the first novels? It will be worth our while to notice, even if in such cataloguing we give the appearance of pedantry, that many of the elements of the Sicilian stories are simply carried over in very slightly altered shape from similar elements in the romanzi giovenili. The cult of the home, the sense of destiny, strict attention to realistic detail are all found in the early stories. It is here that the critics are likely to make the error of seeing in a new background a new Verga. The romanzi giovenili are not the daydreams of a boy in jejune contrast
concezione dei Malavoglia. Tonelli, who sees in Il marito di Elena another Madame Bovary, finds the Zola influence also very obvious: Se infatti il Flaubert aveva persuaso Verga all'impersonalità , Zola lo persuadeva allo studio degli ambienti, quasi privi di deformazioni civili e sociali: degli uomini vicino allo stato primordiale: delle passioni istintive.^22 It would, of course, be idle to deny that there are in the new elements in Verga's work--impersonality, interest in the lower classes, and language to fit the characters--unmistakable similarities to the work of Zola. The tendency to focus on these similarities and fail to see the differences has been one very common in the critics who have written about Verga. Not unlikely the reason is, as Capuana has suggested, a predisposition for French novels and a willingness to consider Italian works either derivations, or of no account, or both.^23 This assumption is, alas, frequently just, but Verga's very magnitude makes it impossible to classify him without a hearing among the horde of his less respectable compatriots. To proceed, however, with the case for the prosecution. There is one final piece of damaging evidence: a letter to Verga written by Zola which indicates certainly a sympathy between the two. I quote the letter in part: Au milieu des haines et des mauvaises volontés qui m'entourent encore, votre poignée de main me reconforte, en me prouvant que j'écris au moins pour quelques amis littéraires. Vous savez que je suis un peu hypocondre; il y a des jours où j'ai besoin de tout mon courage pour continuer la lutte.^24 At this time, however, Verga was not personally acquainted with Zola and their meeting a few years later was a disillusioning episode to Zola who apparently considered Verga a follower. He found that Verga, while certainly an admirer, was inclined to disapprove of certain aspects of Zola's realism, and he is quoted as saying with comprehensible bitterness to a common acquaintance: "On me dit que votre ami Verga est un grand écrivain, mais il n'a que des idées très arrêtées."^25 If, then, Verga's realism is a copy of Zola's, it is rather odd that the master should have considered it the result of backward ideas. The realism of Zola is indeed a somewhat difficult thing to define. It is a little like a character of Pirandello, one thing to the author and a different thing to the reader, one thing in conception and another in realization. Of course, the first element on which he insists is the scientific nature of art: "On a la chimie et la physique expérimentales; on aura la physiologie expérimentale: plus tard encore on aura le roman expérimental."^26 The words are trite and I quote them only to emphasize the point that for Zola the scientific aspect was the very essence of the new novel. But he went beyond that: not only did he proclaim a new science but he laid down two fundamental laws for it. The basis of his studies are to be the laws of heredity and environment. And from these laws follows the Zolaesque fatalism which, from the reader's point of view, seems the dominant element in his formidable series. It is well for us to define this fatalism. It is something that proceeds from within; it is not the lurid fatalism of the romantics nor the kind which represents its characters as hopeless before blind chance. In fact, his theory really excludes chance; the destiny of a character is necessarily a result of the fixed laws of heredity and environment. Indeed, according to Zola himself it is not really fatalism at all, but simply a sort of scientific necessity. Quoting Claude Bernard, he calls it " déterminisme, " and explains his point of view as follows: "Le fatalisme suppose la manifestation nécessaire d'un phénomène indépendant de ses conditions, tandis que le déterminisme est la condition nécessaire d'un phénomène dont la manifestation n'est pas forcée."^27 Since with the scientific approach goes of necessity the scientific attitude, Zola insists on the author's impersonality and detachment. Nevertheless the naturalist is to have an ideal before him: "les romanciers naturalistes sont bien en effet des moralistes expérimentateurs,"^28 and that ideal is to seek new social laws and attempt to adapt them to human needs. There are laws and these laws must be discovered and illustrated by the naturalist. Finally, in his new enthusiasm for his theory, he takes on a little the glow of the missionary and sees himself and his followers as so many bearers of a new gospel, working in the murky darkness created by the older novelists, to whom he refers, with a sniff almost audible in print, as the " romanciers idéalistes. " Such are the cardinal points of Zola's naturalism from the point of view of its fond and gifted father. The Rougon-Macquart presents the child before the world for the less prejudiced criticism of the public. Some found it, of course, beautiful, and some ugly, but none found it quite as Zola saw it himself. It can be said that Zola fulfils his promise and makes a study of heredity and environment, and, as we might expect, the former is considered the greater influence and accorded more weight. His attempt at impersonality is in general successful; and if occasionally he fails, as in La faute de l'abbé Mouret or Le rêve, it is an excusable exception. But there appear certain new features which are among those most marked in the Rougon-Macquart about which he is none the less silent in his own apologia. One thinks first of all of his predilection for unpleasant scenes. Jules Lemaître calls him candidly "le poète brutal et triste des instincts aveugles, des amours charnelles, des parties basses et répugnantes de la nature humaine."^29 La terre and L'assommoir are particularly noteworthy examples, of course, and yet there are few of his novels without traces of it. This results partly from the fact that the persons of his dramas are recruited almost exclusively from the lower classes--lower not only socially but morally--and thus a certain tendency toward the rosse becomes inevitable. There is also in Zola's work a tendency to exaggerate. Usually it is this very element of the brutal and vicious which is exaggerated, but even in the case of La faute de l'abbé Mouret, where we have merely the exaggeration of sensual beauty, the result is to put the novel a little out of focus, and leave the reader with anything but a realistic impression. Indeed it is this exaggeration that has led Lemaître to call Zola a poet. It is a little more difficult to establish exactly what Verga meant his realism to be, as he was not given to self-commentary in the same measure as Zola. His comments, though briefer, are, however, sufficiently adequate to enable us to understand his own conception of his art.
In the first place he reiterates with emphasis the statement that naturalism is a form, a method, and has nothing to do with the content--even the psychological content. Which is to say that the studies of his naturalism are not to be confined to the physical side of human experience nor to the lowest representatives of the human race. Naturalism is a form; even mysticism may be the subject of a naturalistic novel.^30 Furthermore, he not only announced his intention of studying human nature on all planes^31 --and thus differing from the Goncourts who charitably maintain that the lower classes have " un droit au roman, "^32 and even from Zola who in practice followed the Goncourts' theory--but in his work he remained faithful to his program as is indicated by Dal tuo al mio and the fragments of La duchessa de Leyra. Naturalism is to be, then, only a method. We have had in the preface to I Malavoglia a vague definition of this method. The author is to be " sincero e spassionato. "^33 And in the introduction to a little story called "L'amante di Gramigna" in the collection Vita dei campi he takes occasion to explain the nature of this method to his genial and probably perplexed friend Farina. Here he speaks, too, of the "science of the human heart,"^34 and pleads for impersonality on the part of the author. But nothing is said of the scientific method nor the experimental attitude; indeed Verga compares the work of an author to that of a sculptor, and not to that of a medical scientist. For him there are no laws of human existence; there are simply the fatti diversi.^35 He is not committed, then, to any theory; he does not feel it necessary to establish any new laws; essentially his only objection to the older novelists--of whom he speaks with real respect in contrast to Zola's iconoclastic attitude--is that by artificial situations and false characters they do not reproduce life as it really is. On two important points, then, his naturalism is at variance with that of Zola: he does not consider only the vulgar and sordid fit subjects for his pen, and he refuses to cramp his art by alliances with experimental sciences. Furthermore the fatalism of Verga is in direct contrast to Zola's déterminisme. The latter is a result of heredity and environment, as we have seen, and a man is born with his fate as surely as with his name--indeed, rather more often in Zola's tales. But the characters of Verga--poor devils--are the victims of chance in the last analysis. Had it not been for the storm off Trezza, the Malavoglia would have been a respectable and prosperous family, and even the wandering 'Ntoni would have had a different life. There may be laws at work in the destinies of the Malavoglia, but they are not laws comprehensible to mortals. If we are to reject, then, the theory of Zola's guiding hand, where are we to look for the origins of Verga's new verismo? Coming specifically to I Malavoglia, I submit that they are precisely what we found them to be in the early novels: at least nine-tenths the result of keen observation. He builds, as he always has, from the life about him. In his story "Fantasticheria," he gives away the secret of I Malavoglia's origin. This is not, strictly speaking, a novella, but a little sketch in the form of a monologue addressed to a woman with whom Verga had visited Aci-Trezza. In this little sketch--written some time before I Malavoglia^36 --Verga mentions a number of the individual fisher-folk whom we recognize immediately as characters in the novel. It would be, of course, childish to hope to find one family of actual fishermen identical with the Malavoglia. But the fact that several years before this novel appeared he indicates that he has observed at Trezza the raw material for his tale shows us well enough where the elements of the Malavoglia were assembled--not on the pages of Zola--nor even in numerous documents the use of which Zola would have applauded, but on the shore and in the homes of Aci-Trezza. All of which simply means that Verga is now using more skilfully and perhaps more consciously the same power of observation that we have found in the romanzi giovenili. It is not surprising that he should turn this observation on a class of society which he had previously neglected. It was the spirit of the age; the age of which Zola and he were merely casual incarnations. If his work was somewhat similar to Zola's in France it was no less similar to that of Galdós in Spain or Thomas Hardy in England. Realism is not so much a literary school created in one country and passed over the border like marketable merchandise; it is a reflection of the age; and Italy, as Croce so well puts it,^37 had a part in realism just as it had a part in modern civilization. Modern France, at a certain stage of development, produced Zola; Italy, somewhat later and with inevitable national and personal differences, produced Verga. Before passing on to a discussion of Mastro-don Gesualdo and the derivative period in Verga's work, it will be necessary to lay one more French ghost. The equally formidable though happily less massive figure of Flaubert casts another shadow. It is an almost identical situation; there has been much comment on the obvious similarities, none at all on the differences, and no sincere study of the two works which would place the elements clearly before us. We shall examine the situation as we did in the case of Zola. Our task is here somewhat simpler, for the accusation is merely that one novel of Verga, Il marito di Elena, is imitated from one novel of Flaubert, Madame Bovary.
Notes
- Cf., for example, Russo, I narratori, p. 131; Renato Serra, Le lettere, p. 111; G. Papini, op. cit., La vraie Italie ; Tonelli, op. cit. ; and Croce, Letteratura della nuova Italia, Vol. III.
- "La vaga bramosia dell'ignoto, l'accorgersi ... che si potrebbe star meglio." I Malavoglia, Introduction, p. 5.
- The projected titles which indicate fairly well the nature of the contents are: I Malavoglia, Mastro-don Gesualdo, La duchessa de Leyra, L'onorevole Scipioni, L'uomo di lusso. Ibid., pp. 6-7. Unfortunately Verga never got farther than the first two chapters of La duchessa de Leyra.
- I Malavoglia, Introduction, pp. v-vi.
- Ibid., p. 8.
- Ibid., p. 11.
- I Malavoglia, p. 2, and passim.
- I vinti: I Malavoglia, romanzo. 16mo, xi + 465 pp. Milan, Fratelli Treves, 1881. I Malavoglia. 16mo, 292 pp. Florence, R. Bemporad e figlio, tip. Carpigiani e Zipoli, 1921. I Malavoglia, romanzo. 16mo, xi + 319 pp. Con ritratto. Milan, G. Monreale, 1924. I vinti: I Malavoglia, romanzo. 16mo, 286 pp. Milan, Bietti, 1925. "Poveri pescatori" (incident from I Malavoglia ), Nuova antologia, January 1, 1881, Vol. 55, pp. 61-68. Nedda
- Nedda, bozzetto siciliano. 16mo, 64 pp. Milan, Brigola, 1874. (This is the only edition of Nedda alone. It appears later in the same volume with Primavera ed altri racconti. Cf. also Vita dei campi. ) Separate Editions of Particular Novelle Vita dei campi Vita dei campi, nuove novelle. 16mo, 208 pp. Milan, Fratelli Treves, 1880. ( Cavalleria rusticana--La Lupa--Fantasticheria--Jeli il pastore--Rosso Malpelo--L'amante di Gramigna--Guerra dei santi--Pentolaccia. ) Vita dei campi, nuove novelle. 16mo, 265 pp. 2d ed., coll'aggiunta della novella Il come il quando ed il perchè. Milan, Fratelli Treves,
Vita dei campi: Cavalleria rusticana ed altre novelle. 16mo, 265 pp. 5th ed. Milan, Fratelli Treves, 1892. ( Cavalleria rusticana--La Lupa--Fantasticheria--Jeli il pastore--Rosso Malpelo--L'amante di Gramigna--Guerra dei santi--Pentolaccia--Il come il quando ed il perchè. ) Vita dei campi, novelle illustrate da Arnaldo Ferraguti. 4to, 232 pp. Illustrated. Con nove tavole. Milan, Fratelli Treves, 1897. ( Cavalleria rusticana--La Lupa--Nedda--Fantasticheria--Jeli il pastore--Rosso Malpelo--L'amante di Gramigna--Guerra dei santi-- Pentolaccia. )
- Vita dei campi: Cavalleria rusticana ed altre novelle. 16mo, 167 pp. Milan, Barion, 1923. Translations English Craig, Mary A. The House by the Medlar Tree ( I Malavoglia ). Introduction by W. D. Howells. New York, Harper & Brothers, 1890. The House by the Medlar Tree. 2d ed. London, Osgood, 1891. Master Don Gesualdo. London, Osgood, 1893. French Rod, E. Les Malavoglia. Paris, Savine, 1887. Les Malavoglia. Nouvelle éd. Paris, Ollendorff, 1899. In the following list will be found full bibliographical information on the books and articles that I have cited in the footnotes. I have also entered other titles that have been found useful in the study of Verga. Barbiera, Raffaello. Ideali e caratteri dell'ottocento. Milan, Treves, 1926. Capuana, L. Gli "ismi" contemporanei. Catania, Giannotta, 1898. Critica, La (Bari). See Croce. Croce, B. La letteratura della nuova Italia. Bari, G. Laterza e figli, 1922. Vol. III. Dornis, Jean (pseud. for Mme. Guillaume Beer). Le roman italien contemporain. 3d ed. Paris, Société d'éditions littéraires et
artistiques, Librairie Paul Ollendorff, 1907. Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary. Edition définitive. Paris, Charpentier, 1925. La Farina, Giuseppe. Storia della rivoluzione siciliana e delle sue relazioni coi governi italiani e stranieri. Milan, G. Brigola, 1860. Lemaître, Jules. Les contemporains. Première série. Paris, Lecène-Oudin, 1886. Ojetti, Ugo. Alla scoperta dei letterati. 2d ed. Turin, Bocca, 1899. Papini, Giovanni. "Giovanni Verga," La vraie Italie, Florence, première année, No. 1, pp. 23-26. Pitrè, Giuseppe. Biblioteca della tradizioni popolari siciliane. Palermo, 1871-1913. Prezzolini, Giuseppe. "Giovanni Verga," Nosotros, Buenos Aires, 1922, Vol. 41, pp. 5-12. Russo, L. Giovanni Verga. Naples, R. Ricciardi, 1920. ------. I narratori. Roma. Fondazione Leonardo, 1923. Tartuffo, R. "Dalla conversazione di un giornalista," La Tribuna, February 2, 1911, Interviste siciliane. Tonelli, L. L'evoluzione del teatro contemporaneo in Italia. Milan, Palermo, Naples; Remo Sandron, 1913. ------. L'opera di Giovanni Verga. Catania, Studio editoriale moderno, 1927. Torraca, Francesco. Saggi e rassegne. Livorno, 1885. Zola, Emile. L'assommoir. 24th ed. Paris, Charpentier, 1877. ------. Le débâcle. 83 e^ mille. Paris, Charpentier, 1894. ------. La faute de l'abbé Mouret. 151 e^ mille. Paris, Charpentier, 1900. ------. La fortune des Rougon. 34 e^ mille. Paris, Charpentier, 1901. ------. Nana. Paris, Charpentier, 1909. ------. Une page d'amour. Paris, 1886. ------. Le rêve. 109 e^ mille. Paris, Charpentier, 1901. ------. Le roman expérimental. Nouvelle éd. Paris, Charpentier, 1909. ------. La terre. 133 e^ mille. Paris, Charpentier, 1902. Full Text: COPYRIGHT 2010 Gale, Cengage Learning Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition) Bergin, Thomas Goddard. " I Malavoglia : Naturalism and Verismo." Twentieth-Century Literary Criticism , edited by Thomas J. Schoenberg and Lawrence J. Trudeau, vol. 227, Gale, 2010. Gale Literature Resource Center , https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/H1420096717/LitRC?u=utoronto_main&sid=LitRC&xid=c26bad5a. Accessed 12 Dec. 2020. Originally published in Giovanni Verga , Yale University Press, 1931, pp. 46-65. Gale Document Number: GALE|H
