There is an entire sphere of authors who possess a unique ability to displace identity in strange and abstract manners. Pirandello can be grouped together with Maurice Blanchot, Paul Auster, and several others within this particular category. Their works have a way of deeply affecting you, getting under your skin and making you question the very nature of self.

Pirandello, renowned for his play "Six Characters in Search of an Author," commences the dissolution of the protagonist's self. He does this through a somewhat comical, Gogol-esque conceit. As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly weirder and more perplexing. Although at times it can be maddening and abstruse, demanding a great deal of mental effort from the reader or viewer, ultimately, it is an extremely rewarding experience. It forces us to confront the fluidity and instability of identity, and in doing so, offers profound insights into the human condition.

The author mentions on page 12 that Muscarda has a hooked nose.

And on page 24, he realizes after passing in front of a mirror on the street that it is not he who knows himself but others who know him, and he is strange.

As if he lives through others who look at him as if he is alive.

While he strived to see himself as others saw him, although he and others all saw him as one.

But his misfortunes increased when he discovered that he was one hundred thousand!

Yes, he is one hundred thousand Muscardas in one body and one name.

All of them in his motionless body that was one and no one.

And from here, Luigi's complications and his immersion in the problem of identity began to expand.

Then it happens that the author clashes with that strange one who inhabits him, desiring to get rid of him.

His point of complication increases when he says about the strange one who inhabits him that he does not see him as he sees him, because he is seen and does not see, and others see the strange one, not him.

And for this, I am not surprised by some of the evaluations of the Quaridzi who described him as complex and strange, which did not lead them to clear points during reading but rather plunged them into mysteries as he is plunged into the mystery of himself (the one and the no one and the one hundred thousand).

On page 37, he summarizes a set of his ideas in 7 points and two conclusions.

On page 9, this sentence comes: "Every time I lost something, I found myself revolving around each piece, and I was amazed that others were able to pass in front of me without looking at that piece that at that moment loomed in my view like a mountain that cannot be crossed, or even like a world in which I could undoubtedly build a house for myself."

This sentence tells us from the beginning about the special and profound philosophy that Luigi has and also his appreciation of things and giving them value.

"And from here, my pains began, those pains that made me, in short, in a truly desperate and hopeless mental and physical state to the extent that they would surely drive me either to death or to madness," page 10.

The author's main idea is his intense desire for the right of solitude, and he has presented it through several doors, including: 1. His isolation with himself in his study without even the annoyance of his wife. 2. The old mayor of Verona whose beautiful wife Mimi died after one year of marriage, so he is widowed and alone. 3. The true isolation that he awaits is with the presence of only a stranger, where they are not with themselves, and this only happens with the presence of a stranger.

** Strongly supporting him because in 2013 I wrote about my salty need for a stranger: And the search is still ongoing for that stranger whom I will trust with my stories and novels, then we part so that he does not see me and I do not see him, nor does he get lost in my dreams or I in his. All that is needed is a salty need for a stranger.

All of the above was presented during (the first book) as he named it. As for the second book ("Then I, and then you"), here the situation is reversed so that others are in the place of Muscarda and they desire to see themselves in a living scene.

** The author discussed his idea and its ramifications through 8 chapters that he named books.

On page 135, he summarized his main idea and the title of his book in a paragraph: "So I have fainted, or at least all of us have fainted, as you will see, by ending up in a mental hospital, since the first time, and that was not enough for us. We also had to faint with our lives, so that I can regain my soul and finally find (I, the one, the no one, and the one hundred thousand) the way to salvation."

** Regarding the hero, he is a young man in his twenties whose wife surprises him with the truth of his crooked nose leaning to the right. And from here, his struggles begin, and he is the heir of a bank owner where he lives off the accounts and property of his deceased father. And he arrives at the conclusion that he is not one but one hundred thousand who bear the same name. And this tragic situation increases its complexity, putting him in embarrassing and incomprehensible situations, such as his treatment of his wife. Then his sudden decision to liquidate the bank company and his conflict with his partner and friend. And the conflict extends to his wife, and she leaves the house. And in the last parts, he talks about the strange incident that happened in the big monastery, the abbot Bartana, Anna Rosa, and her illness. Then he begins to regain his identity that he knows through shattering the image of himself that is engraved in the minds of others and based on that, he rejects the look of his wife at him, which is the closest to the idiot, and also the look of people at him as if he is crazy because of the bank. So he took several actions to prove to them that he is not as they see him.

We conclude with an opinion about the author: He is crazy in depth or deep in madness.

Citations: _ In your opinion, to be alone, what does it mean? It means to stay in the company of yourself, without any stranger around you, page 18. _ Who was that? No one. A motionless body, without a name, waiting for someone to receive it, page 34. _ And therefore, my view from your perspective is not the same as my view from my perspective, page 56. _ Perhaps what we hear through that song and this note is the bird, and it has become imprisoned and the nut has become a shell, page 62. _ Whether it is from cane or from nut or from straw, just cut your furniture and it will stick like the memories of your warm family life, page 63. _ But perhaps these monsters, these plants, and all other things have in themselves a meaning and a value that man cannot understand, page 72. _ In that darkness, there is a mysterious sound, burdened with all the formless and meaningless things that remain in a daze with moisture and anticipation in front of the soul, page 94. _ We are truly superficial, I and you. We do not penetrate to the depth of the point, page 109. _ When I became alone, I suddenly felt, in a strange way, a certain expansion mixed with joy, and I thought: I am free! I have left! page 217. _ When we get used to living in a certain way, then going to a strange place and being silent will be accompanied by an indescribable anxiety, page 237. _ Every now and then, you wish to see things with two eyes that you cannot know how others see them at the same time, and you can speak and no one will understand your words, page 266. _ I no longer need this, because every moment I die and am reborn again and from memories, page 287.

Marginal note: Whoever wants to read this book and has not yet read the novel "Identity" by Milan Kundera and the book "Take Care of Yourself" by Philip McGroo should read this book ("One and No One and One Hundred Thousand") first.

** It should be noted that the title of the book on the outer cover has a mistake that cannot be forgiven, which is the addition of a kasra to the word "mِائة", and the correct spelling is either "مئة" or "مائة" without a kasra. So where is the translator and where is the publisher from this mistake, especially since it is a title!

** I think that only 98 pages are sufficient to present the author's idea, and the rest of the pages are a waste of time for the reader.

Title of the book: One and No One and One Hundred Thousand "Philosophy" although it is classified as a novel. Author's name: Luigi Pirandello. Translation: Amarji. Year of publication of the original edition: 1926. First Arabic edition: 2017. Publisher: Publications of the Middle East. Number of pages: 288. Rating: 5/3 stars. Reading: Electronic.

Nadia Ahmed. April 1, 2019.

I have many inspiring fathers. A house of hope that whispers:

I will open my eyes... when I open them... on many. But I see no one.

Two people on the same path look at the sky, so what do they see?
The first saw a plane suspended in the sky and the second saw only its pure blue.
What did each of them hold dear?
The first remembered the journey and the departure and recalled the sound of the call on flight number six hundred and eight bound for London and the warmth of the host when asked about his favorite duty and the blessing of the journey.
The other remembered his beloved who left and it was no longer possible to meet again. He remembered the purity of her eyes and their innocence. He wandered in his imagination in a distant world that he only perceived some of its dark shadows and dreams that would not come.
Then each of them looked at the other and continued their way not burdened by what they saw and what echoed in their minds.
What if the onlookers were three... ten... one hundred... or one hundred thousand? We would have a million million scenes from one scene with the multiplicity of witnesses to it.
This is about the sky. So what about man?
You see Ahmed, your friend, whom you know in a different way than Mahmoud, our common friend, who sees another side of Ahmed that I can't even imagine exists. While Ahmed's parents see him in a completely different way and so does his brother. And if we all gathered to describe Ahmed's personality, no two accounts would match no matter how much the gathering increased and the crowd grew and knowledge increased.
It is amazing that all these images differ from the image that Ahmed has of himself and lived based on it among all these people.
Do we have here one Ahmed or one hundred or one hundred thousand? Or is there no existence for this Ahmed in the first place and there is only our perceptions of him that we formed with our eyes, whether true or false, and each according to his knowledge of Ahmed, his interaction with him and his dealing with him?!
If so, then in the end he is no one and he is one and he is one hundred thousand or more.
I don't know if the idea has reached you in this way or if it is still unclear. For the writer has gone a long way around these meanings, weaving a wonderful and thought-provoking philosophical story. And although it may bore you and scatter your thoughts at many times, yet in the end it increases your grip and excitement the closer we get to the end.

“Life is constantly in motion and can never truly see itself.”

Who, at least once in their life, has not been astonished upon hearing their own recorded voice?
“But is this really my voice?” is the inevitable question we would ask those present.
I conducted an experiment from which I obtained three very different responses:
a dry “Yes!”, a laconic “No…”, and a ruffian “Well, your voice is sweeter…”.

As Pirandello tells us, reality is one for ourselves, but in the moment we realize we are something else, it annuls (no one) and then multiplies in the various facets created by those around us (a hundred thousand).

Just a small observation made by the wife about one's nose (“ – But yes, dear. Look at it carefully: it leans to the right.”) and for Vitangelo Moscarda (“ The name, be it: ugly to the point of cruelty. Moscarda. The fly, and the contempt for its harsh buzzing nuisance. “) obsessive thoughts and reflections begin to swirl:

“ (…) considerations that were digging into me and boring through my spirit haphazardly, like a mole's den; without anything showing on the outside.”

The discovery of being confined in a form provokes in Moscarda a rebellious movement that will lead to madness:

“ But I was crazy precisely because I had this precise and mirror-like consciousness, you who walk along this same road without realizing it, you are wise, and the more loudly you shout at those walking beside you:
– Me, this? Me, like this? You're blind! You're crazy!”

Published in 1926, after a very long gestation (the first version dating back to 1909), it was Pirandello's last novel and the one he himself defined as "the bitterest of all, profoundly humorous, of the decomposition of life".

In addition to the existential and philosophical considerations expressed by the character Moscarda with a certain exasperation, the novel presents two important autobiographical elements:
the troubled relationship with his father and the madness of his wife with her obsessive jealousy.
These elements are well delineated in an interesting essay by Andrea Camilleri Biografia del figlio cambiato, which I recommend reading because it offers a different perspective on all of Pirandello's work.

-------------------------------------------------------

” I immediately turned my eyes away so as not to see anything more, to stop in its appearance and die. Only thus can I live now. Be reborn moment by moment. Prevent thought from starting to work in me again and remake the void of empty constructions within me.”

The beginning was auspicious. It was very well written, and the main character made me remember a little bit of d’A Pomba from Süskind, which I read not long ago, only that this one was more fun (after all, it's an Italian).

But then, around the middle, the tortuous reasoning almost gave me a headache and I was on the verge of giving up. But I didn't, and it was a good thing too, because in the end, the book redeemed itself completely. I just finished reading it with a smile on my lips and incredulous that I liked it so much. And this, huh?

It's quite a journey this book takes you on. At first, you're charmed by the engaging writing and the interesting character. But as you get deeper into the story, the complex reasoning can be a bit overwhelming. However, if you persevere, you'll be rewarded with a satisfying conclusion that makes all the effort worthwhile. It's a testament to the author's skill that they can take you on such a rollercoaster ride of emotions and still leave you feeling happy and fulfilled at the end.

When you look in the mirror and see yourself, is the person you see in front of you really you? Or in other words, do all the eyes that look at you see the same person?

One morning, Mr. Moscarda was looking in the mirror when his wife surprised him by telling him that his nose was slightly crooked! How could he not have noticed that before? And that's not all, he had other flaws that he had never noticed. After that, he would often look at others to see the flaws in them that he had never noticed before, and think about how people looked at him, and conclude that every pair of eyes that looked at him saw a person from their own perspective..

In this great philosophical story, Brandello explains to us how we look at others and how they look at us. And also how we can have a different personality from the perspective of each person who sees us! And when we start talking to others, although we speak the same language, each of us understands the other from his own perspective, not ours..

A really wonderful story.. It will make you think about how others look at you and how you look at others in a different way.. A deep story, I recommend it to lovers of philosophical stories..

"I didn't know myself at all. I didn't have any specific idea about the truth of myself. I was in a state of continuous delusion, pretending to be suitable, mature. Others knew me, each in their own way, according to the truth they fabricated for me."

Pirandello is extremely profound. I didn't expect to read something like this from him, especially as an Italian writer who is characterized by simplicity, charm, an easy yet elusive style, and generally staying away from philosophy.

What Pirandello wrote here is astonishing and even incomprehensible, obscure, complex. I could barely grasp some of the ideas of this crazy Italian. It's as if I'm gathering branches from a forest indefinitely. Pirandello makes you doubt yourself, shatters your sharp certainty of knowing yourself in the many hidden selves within you, your fog, your imagination, as others see you, as you see yourself in the eyes of others. Oh my God, how crazy it seems when Pirandello talks about that. Your unstable state, floating in a specific time and place, your fragile being that you pride yourself on, that thing or the fragmented entity in many forms, a huge number of inner personalities, maybe a hundred thousand or more...

And maybe no one knows...

The faces are mirrors and the selves are an endless repetition of one thing, which is you. This you who repeats every day, every moment, perhaps at the tip of an eye, never returning as you were before. That huge space of emptiness that separates you from every state of yours, from your original existence, the sharp existential split that occurs. You are just trembling, but you are in a state of continuous change, carrying your personalities, your madness with you, hiding some, showing others, alternating in some, not feeling that you belong to some more than others. You change from your ideal self. Imagine!! You find that your world is made up of those hidden personalities that you have always been so careful to prevent others from seeing in you...

We are personalities according to the number and quantity of people who see us. Each of them draws a specific personality for us, which is not the personality that we are. It is different from the person drawn by others for us. Pirandello poses a question: How can all those many and sometimes contradictory personalities form one person, just one person, a person who is different even in his own eyes, gathering all those contradictions, the forms, the other mirrors. Oh my God, it seems as if it is a parallel world to the one that Pirandello talks about in the novel, a scattered, scary, shocking world, not able to be dealt with or confronted...

"Moscarda" lived his life without problems until he was twenty-eight years old, without noticing anything about himself, until his wife pointed out to him one day that his nose was slightly tilted to the right. That was an idea that he didn't accept, couldn't even understand. How could he have lived all those years thinking there was nothing wrong with his face and not noticed that defect? He was shocked at that time. How others saw him differently from how he saw himself, and how his wife and the closest people to him had a completely different view of himself, not only at the level of appearance but also his inner world. He realized that no one knew what was going on inside him, and even he himself didn't fully understand the truth of himself. This existential earthquake from which we start the journey of doubt in the novel, the reflections and questions that only end with even more astonishing questions...

It is an extremely profound philosophical novel. I couldn't understand everything as Pirandello wrote the novel, but what I understood only made me feel the role and imagine the philosophy and the obscure thinking that he talks about regarding the self, man, personality, the being, this mysterious human being...

It is an adventure into the depth of personality and human identity, a state of empathy with the incomprehensible dimension in the individuality of a person, his constitution, his soul, his depths, with his view of himself and others. It is a sarcastic, captivating novel that will make you think again about yourself, others, and your relationship with everything around you...

People sometimes get suddenly captivated by certain books. For me, "One, None and One Hundred Thousand" was such a book. To be honest, I didn't expect to read a text that was so well-written and dealt with existence in a multi-faceted way. Luigi Pirandello revolves around essential questions about existence, such as who a person really is or whether the answer to who one is lies within oneself or in others. Our protagonist, Vitangelo, starts from these questions and searches for ways to recreate himself, and finally arrives at a place between going crazy and being defined.

Because of its humorous tone, it flows smoothly but also makes you stop and think from time to time. So it's beneficial to read it with a somewhat calm mind. In any case, although it is scattered here and there, it managed to hold me within itself in a certain way. Despite being written 100 years ago, it is still relevant today. I really liked it.

I think this book offers a unique perspective on human nature and existence. It makes us question our own identities and the roles we play in society. The characters are well-developed and the story is engaging. It's not just a simple read but a thought-provoking one that leaves a lasting impression.

Overall, I would highly recommend this book to anyone who is interested in exploring the depths of human existence and the complexity of the human psyche. It's a classic that has stood the test of time and continues to be relevant and enjoyable today.

How difficult is it to know ourselves? How difficult is it to say yes, this is me. How different are we from the image that others have of us? (Yes, you guessed it right, everyone around us has a different image and this makes us approximately a hundred thousand different selves or maybe none at all). But the problem is not only the different image that others have but also the fact that each of us wants to impose our own reality on those around us.

However, in the end, it's okay if you want to find yourself or if you don't want to and you're comfortable with the image that others have of you.

Here comes the following poem by the beloved Pessoa

"I ask for forgiveness for not answering

But it's not my fault

That I don't correspond

To the one you love in me!

Each of us is many

I am the one I think I am.

Others see me differently

And again they are wrong.

Don't take me for someone else

And leave me alone.

If I don't want

To find myself

Why should others look for me?"

PS Many thousands of little stars

**Uno, Nessuno e Centomila = One, No One and One Hundred Thousand, Luigi Pirandello**

Vitangelo Moscarda, a wealthy man, has his life disrupted when his wife tells him that his nose is crooked. This simple statement becomes a pretext for Moscarda to constantly look at himself in the mirror, obsessing over his appearance and how others perceive him. He begins to doubt not only his physical image but also his moral character.

Moscarda discovers, through an entirely unrelated question posed by his wife, that everyone he knows has constructed their own version of the Vitangelo persona in their imagination. None of these personas match the image he has created and believes himself to be. This realization leads him to question the very essence of his identity.

The story was first translated into Persian in 1974. It is a complex exploration of self-perception, identity, and the role of others in shaping our understanding of ourselves. Pirandello's writing challenges the reader to consider how our own beliefs and assumptions about ourselves may not align with the reality perceived by those around us.

The novel is divided into several books, each delving deeper into different aspects of Moscarda's journey of self-discovery. The quotes provided offer insights into Moscarda's inner turmoil and his struggle to come to terms with his true self. The translator, Bahman Farzaneh, has done an excellent job of capturing the essence of Pirandello's work in Persian.

The publication history of the Persian translation includes editions by different publishers, with varying page counts and ISBN numbers. The story has also been the subject of much analysis and discussion, as it raises important questions about the nature of identity and the relationship between the self and others.

In conclusion, "Uno, Nessuno e Centomila" is a thought-provoking novel that continues to resonate with readers today. It challenges us to look beyond our own self-perceptions and consider the multiple perspectives that exist within and around us.

My wife smiled.

“I thought,” she said, “that you were looking to see which side it is hangs down the lower.” I whirled like a dog whose tail has been stepped on:

“Which side hangs down the lower? My nose? Mine?”

“Why, yes, dear,” and my wife was serene, “take a good look; the right side is a little lower than the other.”

Moscarda’s wife, Dida, tells him that his nose was asymmetrical. Looking in the mirror, he realizes that she was telling the truth and then notices the many other imperfections. How was it that he never noticed before? He begins to believe the man in the mirror was a stranger.

“This was the way in which I wanted to be alone. Without myself. I mean to say, without that self which I already knew, or which I thought I knew. Alone with a certain stranger, from whom I darkly felt that I should be able never more to part, and who was myself: the stranger inseparable from me. There was, then, one only that interested me! And already, this one, or the need I felt of being alone with him, of confronting him in order to know him better and hold a little converse with him, was working me up to a pitch of half-shivering alarm.”

His wife, Dida, calles Moscarda “Genga” and Moscarda begins to believe that “Genga” was another man.

“How many times, by chance, had I confronted my eyes in a mirror, with someone who stood looking at me in the same mirror. I in the mirror did not see myself, but was seen; and the other person, similarly, did not see himself, but saw my face and saw himself being looked at by me. Had I been able to project myself in such a manner as to be able, the I in the mirror, to see myself, I should perhaps have been visible still to the other person, but I- no- I should no longer be able to see him. One could not, at one and the same time, see one's self and see another who stood looking at one and the same mirror.”

Moscarda forsakes his father’s inheritance and leaves his wife Dida.

“No name. No memory today of yesterday's name; of today's name tomorrow. If the name is the thing, if a name in us is the concept of everything that is situated without us….very well, then, let men take that name which I once bore and engrave it as an epitaph on the brow of that pictured me that they beheld; let them leave it there in peace, and let them not speak of it again. For a name is no more than that, an epitaph. Something befitting the dead. One who has reached a conclusion. I am alive, and I reach no conclusion. Life knows no conclusion. Nor does it know anything of names….Living wholly without, a vagabond….I am dying every instant, and being born anew and without memories: alive and whole, no longer in myself, but in everything outside.”

Moscarda's realization about his physical imperfections and the strange perception of himself as a stranger lead him to a state of confusion and inner turmoil. His wife's comments and the way he views himself in the mirror seem to shatter his previous sense of self. As he grapples with these newfound insights, he starts to question his identity and the meaning of his name. This internal struggle ultimately prompts him to make drastic decisions, such as forsaking his inheritance and leaving his wife. Moscarda's journey is one of self-discovery and transformation, as he tries to come to terms with the stranger he has become and the life that lies ahead without the trappings of his former identity.

Oh my goodness! I've really gone beyond my limits. I even said I might win a Nobel Prize! What I expected and what I found were completely different!

Now, this book is promising a lot of wonderful things, but none of them are really there. The humorous approach is a bit lacking. Are you reading a personal growth book, a work of fiction, or something by Osho? I really can't tell!

Well, with some effort, I managed to find a few places that I could underline, but overall, I just didn't like it at all.

However, whether or not to give it a chance based on this average rating and the award it received is up to your discretion.