This book was the last one written by Luigi Pirandello before he passed away. The author was the Nobel Prize in Literature winner in 1934. Although it is said that he has a vast body of work, this is the first book I have read of his.

It all starts with a simple comment from Vitangelo Moscarda's wife. Well, she points out a defect in his nose, which is inclined to the right. From then on, Vitangelo enters a spiral that leads him to madness. He enters a monologue with the premises:

Who am I for myself? Who am I for others? Am I someone or just nobody?

How many exist in me and how many of me exist for others?

Hence the rather unusual title of "One, No One and One Hundred Thousand".

Although the tragicomic nature of the story, it leads us to the core of human thought. How many of us have not asked ourselves such questions?

The book could have become a bore if it were not for Pirandello's narrative ability, which takes us from laughter to tears.

The capacity for deluding ourselves that today's reality is the only true one is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it sustains us, giving us a sense of stability and direction. But on the other, it plunges us into an endless void, as today's reality is bound to prove delusion for us tomorrow. Life, after all, doesn't conclude. It can't conclude. Tomorrow, if it does, it's finished.

Let's go back in time, about 8 years ago. A younger Mutasim Billah is in a classroom, where his English teacher is imparting a valuable lesson in creative writing. The teacher holds up a page in front of the class and asks, "Say, is there writing on this page?" The entire class chimes in, "Yes, sir!" But the teacher counters, "But how is that! The page is empty!" The class is baffled. Some students murmur, while others hold their opinions firmly, believing the teacher will change his mind. Still others are confused and hold their opinions in check, in case the teacher proves them wrong.

The teacher smiles and, in one swift movement, shows the other side of the paper, the side that was not facing the students. The page was indeed empty. The teacher was right.

Perspectives

Why is perspective so elusive? In a world of differing perspectives, which are the absolute truths? Or is there such a thing as absolute truth? Perspectivism, a philosophical view first coined by Friedrich Nietzsche, gives rise to more questions than answers. In essence, we never have a perfect perspective as we choose to interpret the world in a way that suits us best. For example, a husband who despises low-fat milk might still go out of his way to get it for his wife, just to be in the right. And so, that becomes his norm, and the wife remains oblivious to his true feelings.

Cooley's Looking-glass Self

The social psychological concept of the looking-glass self describes the development of one's self and identity through interpersonal interactions within society. It comprises three main components: we imagine how we appear to others, we imagine and react to their judgment of that appearance, and we develop our self through their judgments. The above meme is a perfect example of the looking-glass self.

The Story

One, None and a Hundred Thousand is a 1926 novel by Luigi Pirandello. The plot is built on three differing perspectives: the belief that our self is one and unique, the idea that we live a hundred thousand lives in the minds of others, and the notion that none of these are truly a true self. Vitangelo Moscarda's world is turned upside down when he realizes that he doesn't look the way he thought he did. He embarks on a journey of self-discovery, exposing his true self and breaking down the fake images he has built to please others. This leads him towards madness and rediscovery. I really enjoyed this book, as I have always been interested in the underlying themes of existentialism and absurdism. I would definitely recommend it to anyone who enjoys these types of literature.

Luigi Pirandello (1867 - 1936) was a remarkable Italian literary figure. He was a Nobel Prize winning playwright, novelist, poet, and short story writer. His play "Six Characters in Search of an Author" is widely renowned.

"One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand" is a masterfully constructed work. Each section flows seamlessly into the next, giving the impression that it was written in a single, inspired burst. However, the reality is quite the opposite. Pirandello worked on this short novel intermittently over a period of fifteen years, starting at the age of forty-two and concluding at fifty-seven. It's important to note that Pirandello was not a slow writer by any means. During those same fifteen years, at the height of his creative powers, he produced hundreds of short stories and dozens of plays. The time he spent on this novel highlights the great care, attention, and reflection he dedicated to the subject of identity, which was a lifelong preoccupation for him.

The novel delves deep into the nature of identity. It makes us question how we experience ourselves from the inside and how others perceive us from the outside. The narrator, Vitangelo Moscarda, becomes obsessed with this concept. The story is filled with humor from the very beginning. When Moscarda's wife tells him that his nose tilts slightly to the right, he is shocked and spends an hour scrutinizing his face in the mirror. Later that day, when a friend visits, Moscarda cuts him off mid-sentence to ask if he is looking at his nose. This marks the beginning of Moscarda's "sickness," as he confesses.

Pirandello uses the power of fiction to split Moscarda in two in one telling scene. We see a Moscarda sitting alone in his study and another Moscarda standing in the corner as an objective outsider, questioning and probing. They act out their own version of "Two Characters in Search of an Identity." The fact that we construct our own identities and cannot fully communicate them to others, even to our closest loved ones, drives Moscarda to the brink of madness. Additionally, the way others construct their own versions of his identity, such as his wife seeing him as a loveable fool and the people in his city thinking him a usurer, is something he refuses to accept.

In the first half of the book, Moscarda keeps his inquiries into his identity to himself. However, he eventually decides to put his first experiment "in the destruction of Moscarda" into practice. He wants to destroy the identities that others have formed of him as a fool and a usurer. What follows are two of the most hilarious scenes in literature as he visits the notary's office and then his bank to confront Quantorzo and Firbo.

The novel raises many profound questions about the nature of the self. Does our construction of identity limit us? Do we recognize our true selves in the roles we play? Does the identity others form of us restrict our freedom? And what about society as a whole? Is the social construction of identity harmful and an invasion of privacy? Living a "normal" life in the modern world may seem dehumanizing. This novel reminds me of other existential works such as "Nausea" by Jean-Paul Sartre and the writings of Samuel Beckett, Franz Kafka, Bertolt Brecht, and André Malraux. However, with Pirandello's novel, the existential story is often laugh-out-loud funny, much like "Twelfth Night" and the antics of Malvolio. Overall, "One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand" is a highly recommended read.

Letto per la prima volta alle medie, e apprezzato tanto, l’ho voluto rileggere sia per vedere se l’avrei apprezzato di nuovo, sia perché non mi ricordavo più nulla. Alla fine non solo mi è piaciuto quanto la prima volta, ma l’ho - probabilmente - trovato anche più geniale e pazzerello.

During my middle school years, I read it for the first time and liked it a lot. I wanted to reread it both to see if I would still appreciate it and because I couldn't remember anything about it anymore. In the end, not only did I like it as much as the first time, but I probably also found it even more brilliant and crazy.

Alle medie sicuramente non riuscivo a dare un nome a quello che Moscarda sente, ma riuscivo comunque a capire quello che provava e quello che cercava di comunicare e non gli davo tutti i torti, nonostante mi rendessi conto che a un certa fosse piombato nel vortice della pazzia. Ma la “filosofia” dietro ai ragionamenti di Moscarda, come cambia la percezione di noi - del nostro Io, direi oggi - a seconda delle situazioni in cui siamo e di come le persone ci vedono, be’, mi affascinava, e la capivo.

Certainly in middle school, I couldn't give a name to what Moscarda feels, but I could still understand what he was experiencing and what he was trying to communicate, and I didn't blame him entirely, even though I realized that at a certain point he had fallen into the vortex of madness. But the "philosophy" behind Moscarda's reasoning, how our perception of ourselves - of our I, I would say today - changes depending on the situations we are in and how people see us, well, it fascinated me, and I understood it.

Il disturbo della percezione dell’Io che Moscarda prova lo scaraventa in un’incertezza che travolge qualsiasi cosa, pure il rapporto che ha con la sua - povera - cagnolina. Avere un Io mutevole è assolutamente normale, la sua percezione cambia con il tempo, con le circostanze, con le persone, con gli stati d’animo… ma di fatto l’Io resta uno. Il problema, il disturbo, sorge quando si percepisce un Io diviso, sdoppiato o addirittura frammentato.

The disturbance in the perception of the I that Moscarda experiences throws him into an uncertainty that overwhelms everything, even his relationship with his - poor - little dog. Having a mutable I is absolutely normal, its perception changes with time, with circumstances, with people, with states of mind... but in fact the I remains one. The problem, the disturbance, arises when one perceives a divided, doubled or even fragmented I.

Ecco che da Uno, si diventa prima Centomila (tutti gli Io prodotti dagli sguardi degli altri) e poi Nessuno (quando Moscarda si rifiuta di essere uno degli innumerevoli sé prodotti dalla società con cui interagisce).

Here, from being One, one first becomes One Hundred Thousand (all the I's produced by the looks of others) and then Nobody (when Moscarda refuses to be one of the countless selves produced by the society with which he interacts).

Quante volte la nostra giornata ruota su un commento, solitamente negativo, ricevuto dalle altre persone? Fino a quel momento manco ci eravamo accorti del suddetto “difetto”, ora non facciamo altro che prestargli tutta la nostra attenzione. È questo quello che gli altri vedono di noi? Questo difetto qui di cui non mi ero mai accorta? Eppure se è stato notato dagli altri dev’essere un difetto bello importante. Basta poco, davvero poco, per entrare in un vortice nero, e poi rischia di volerci tanto, davvero tanto, per uscirne.

How many times does our day revolve around a comment, usually negative, received from other people? Until that moment, we didn't even notice the so-called "defect", now we do nothing but pay all our attention to it. Is this what others see in us? This defect here that I never noticed? And yet, if it has been noticed by others, it must be a very important defect. It takes very little, really very little, to enter a black vortex, and then it risks taking a lot, really a lot, to get out of it.

If I may say that those who read this novel will come out of it looking at themselves in a completely different way. Completely.

God knows who is writing this comment on the novel for you now. I, or am I the one as others see me? I don't know. And I don't want to know.

Perhaps this quote represents the spirit of the novel (as I look at it).

"When a person lives, he lives and does not see himself. To see himself is to die."

I hope everyone of you has an enjoyable reading.

This novel seems to have a profound message hidden within its pages. It challenges the readers to look beyond the surface and explore the deeper aspects of themselves. The quote about living and not seeing oneself makes one wonder about the true nature of self-awareness.

As you embark on the journey of reading this novel, keep an open mind and let the words wash over you. Maybe, just maybe, you'll discover something new about yourself along the way.

Happy reading!

Strange how from the observation of a small physical defect, a strange psychological mechanism can be set in motion, leading to the discovery that within ourselves, an infinity of people are hidden, each more different from the other!

Vitangelo Moscarda is so struck by such an awareness that he questions his own life, his own routine, and his physical and mental equilibrium. But the most interesting thing is the image that the new awareness makes him assume in the eyes of others!

Certainly a good novel, although difficult to follow in some passages! This story takes the reader on a journey of self-discovery and exploration. The protagonist's realization about the hidden aspects of himself not only challenges his own perception but also how others view him. It makes one wonder about the complexity of human nature and how a single observation can have such a profound impact. The novel may have its challenging parts, but it also offers valuable insights and a unique perspective on the human psyche.

Let me regain my focus to write a word.

The book talks about one important idea that we have never thought about before. And even if it occurred to us and we thought about it, I don't think we would think about it in the detailed way that the author does.

What is the image that others see us as? For each person we have a relationship with, there is an image that they have formed of us since the moment they got to know us, or it has formed itself as the relationship progresses. That image that we cannot know, and even if we knew it, we could never see that person as others see them at all.

It is a profound philosophical and existential subject. Sometimes as you read, you feel like you are on a stage. How many times have I continued reading only to be overcome by doubt as to whether I was still reading attentively? Then, like a crazy person, I imagine that someone is sitting in front of me and sharing the idea with me until I solve the puzzle and simplify the complexity.

Sometimes we control the image that others have of us in their minds, just as we allow them in a certain way to see us as the image they desire.

And sometimes we realize that the other person wants us to be the image that they have seen since the very first moment. We help them maintain that image by not touching it, while fully aware of what is happening.

Most of what we touch on and uncover within ourselves, we actually know, but we haven't thought about it, haven't noticed it. You know that and keep track of your experiences and situations, as if it is expressing them with words one after another.

In the middle of the book, the features of the story begin to show. After almost the third chapter, at the beginning, I tried to re-read some pages to understand what it was saying. It's a different, non-standard book, beautiful and profound for those who are interested in the inner workings of the human soul. Here is a simple part of an idea that brings us a very heavy discussion about it.

The name of the novel alone is enough to arouse attention and curiosity about the nature of one and no one and a hundred thousand!!

Well, I am one, and in the eyes of someone else, I am also one, and in the eyes of yet another person, I am still one... all the way to a hundred thousand, but in my own eyes?! I still look forward to being one..

We are nothing but mere convictions, and with each time, or situation, or with each person, we don different convictions..

Perhaps you will play a small role when reading this book. It is a profound existential philosophy, but we all suffer from it, and Pirandello was able to embody it wonderfully in this novel..

This story makes us reflect on our identities and how they are perceived by others and ourselves. It shows that our sense of self is not fixed but rather fluid and constantly changing. We may present different versions of ourselves depending on the context and the people we are with.

Pirandello's exploration of these themes is both thought-provoking and engaging. His use of vivid characters and unique plotlines draws the reader in and makes them question their own understanding of identity and existence.

Overall, this novel is a must-read for anyone interested in exploring the complex nature of the human self.

'He wanted to impose the world within him on everyone as if it were outside, to force everyone to see it as he saw it. According to him, others could not exist in this world in any other way than how he saw them.'

One day, what would you do if your spouse told you something about your own body that you hadn't known until that day? Vitangelo Moscarda was 28 years old and his wife told him that his nose was crooked to the right. Moscarda began to think, 'how different my view of myself is from how others see me'. Then his thoughts branched out and became confused. He thought about the reasons for his existence, questioned the name his father had given him, looked at the person he had married and so on. What was he really going to do now? We are also waiting for him. The pages are lined up one after another. Moscarda is telling and we are listening.

My book about meeting Luigi Pirandello was 'One, No One and One Hundred Thousand'. He started writing this book in 1909 and finished it in 1925 and said, 'the most painful and humorous'. It is impossible not to agree with this statement; because there is both pain and humor in this work. There is also loneliness and awakening. Although I had some difficulty in delving into the subject at the beginning, it became a book that I liked and whose character analysis I liked. It is also a fact that it aroused my desire to read the author's other works.

Translated by Şadan Karadeniz

Okurun moduna bağlı olarak fikir ayrılığına düşebileceğimiz bir kitap olduğu için önerisini yapamam belki ama şunu söyleyebilirim, net iyi bir kalem. The author's writing style is unique and engaging, which can draw the reader's attention from the very beginning.

Karakterin sallantılı ve sancılı ruh halini resmen tüm şiddetiyle hissediyorsunuz ki bu hisleri pek çoğunuz uzun bir süre boyunca aynaya her baktığında anımsayacaktır eminim. The character's emotional turmoil is vividly described, making the reader feel as if they are experiencing it firsthand. This kind of intense emotion is sure to stay with the reader for a long time and be remembered every time they look in the mirror.

Pirandello, i got my eyes on you hadi bakalım. Pirandello, I'm keeping my eyes on you. Let's see what you have in store for us next. This sentence creates a sense of anticipation and mystery, making the reader eager to find out more about the story and the characters.

"Believe me, if any sorrow could have been caused to you by the experience you have just had, it is nothing, my dear, because you are not alone, but who knows how many, without knowing it, and always believing oneself to be one."
This is the essence, in reality. This and much more.
I adored the first half of the book, a lovely chat with someone who has made a hilarious (for me) discovery, a chat among friends about the perception of ourselves and others.
A chat that ends with me feeling empty (and alone): this has changed many things if not everything, all social relationships, from the end of this book, are different and have a more bitter but conscious taste.
"But where is the wound? In me?
To touch myself, to clench my hands, yes, I said "I"; but to whom was I saying it? And for whom? I was alone. In the whole world, alone. For myself, alone. And in the moment of the shiver, which now made me tremble to the roots of my hair, I felt the eternity and the cold of this infinite solitude."

Possiamo conoscere soltanto quello a cui riusciamo a dar forma.



Oh, if his wife hadn't pointed out to him how his nose slightly drooped to one side, Mr. Vitangelo Moscarda would not have given birth to a river, or rather a vortex of questions, hypotheses, reasonings, and reflections that border on the absurd and verge on madness.



In all this, I must recognize Pirandello's mastery, the ability to make us look inside and try to understand, not only how we see ourselves but (and this is far more可怕) how others might see us.



I still feel confused by all the twists and turns of language that make everything we are and everything around us uncertain, despite their certainty. Or is it the exact opposite? What confusion...


Nothing. I've been infected... now I feel like constantly looking in the mirror, hoping to recognize myself in all those flaws that others don't see but that exist for me... or is it the opposite here too?!? Confusing...



The second part of the novel is much better, where gradually the vortex of questions subsides, remaining latent, and the narrative becomes smoother and more believable, albeit with tragic aspects and even more tragic consequences.



The dear Moscarda maintains that:

Quando uno vive, vive e non si vede. Conoscersi è morire. [...] Vedere le cose con occhi che non potevano sapere come gli altri occhi intanto le vedevano. Parlare per non intendersi. Non valeva più nulla essere per sé qualche cosa. E nulla più era vero, se nessuna cosa per sé era vera.



This image is beautiful and evocative:

Esposto lí al vento furioso, si faceva svolazzare attorno al corpo magro, d'una magrezza che incuteva ribrezzo, la coperta del letto: una coperta di lana rossa, appesa e sorretta con le due braccia in croce, sulle spalle. E rideva, rideva con un lustro di lagrime negli occhi spiritati, mentre gli volavano di qua e di là, lingueggiando come fiamme, le lunghe ciocche dei capelli rossicci.


Here, this is how Vitangelo Moscarda is seen and felt: crazy, but harmless.



A recognized madness, then, a full self-awareness that will distance him from the world, from material things, from people, into a regenerating retreat, finally at peace with himself, redeemed in the eyes of the world and forgiven by himself.


But above all, alive; poor, dismissed, forgotten, but still consciously alive!



Cosí soltanto io posso vivere, ormai. Rinascere attimo per attimo. Impedire che il pensiero si metta in me di nuovo a lavorare, e dentro mi rifaccia il vuoto delle vane costruzioni. [...] Io non l’ho più questo bisogno, perché muoio ogni attimo, io, e rinasco nuovo e senza ricordi: vivo e intero, non più in me, ma in ogni cosa fuori.