the audience splits into two groups: those favoring the rebellion and those condemning it, while some individuals oscillate between the two. Tension rises as the night progresses, and the old pianist, worried about his son, who is at home, decides to leave. Everyone watches him as he leaves on unsteady legs, the result of the generously flowing champagne at the reception. He reaches the center of the square in front of the Scala Theater, only to fall flat on his face with outstretched hands, as if felled by a machine gun. Everyone stares at him, but no one moves. When dawn finally arrives, a lone cyclist drives past; then, an old street sweeper starts sweeping the square; and later, more people begin appearing: The city is awakening to another day. The old pianist wakes up, full of amazement, gets on his feet, and trots home. An old flower-woman, dressed in black, enters the foyer, passing among the liverish-looking assembly and offering a gardenia. After establishing this mounting suspense, Buzzati ends the story abruptly, leaving the reader to wonder what, if anything, has happened.

“Catastrophe”

Similarly, in “Qualcosa era successo” (“Catastrophe”), from Il crollo della Baliverna, Buzzati describes, from a passenger’s point of view, a ten-hour, nonstop journey by express train. Contact with the rest of the world is only indirect, through the view out the train windows. It soon becomes evident, however, that something unusual is happening out there, for all the people seem to communicate alarm to one another. Large crowds, as if in flight from danger, begin to move in the opposite direction from that in which the train is traveling. The stations which the train passes are crowded, yet none of the silent passengers manages to read the headline of the newspapers waved at them. A passenger grabs one, but it tears away, leaving in her hand only the letters-TION of the headline. When the train finally rolls into the station of the big city and comes to a stop, the passengers find a deserted place with no humans in sight.

This story was interpreted as symbolic of the fear of war or nuclear disaster. Buzzati, however, gives the reader a clue for an alternate interpretation when he makes his protagonist exclaim that trains are just like life itself.

“The Colomber”

In “Il colombre” (“The Colomber”), from the collection of the same title, in spite of his father’s warning to avoid the sea because of the mysterious and relentless fish the colomber, the young protagonist, Stefano, becomes a ship’s captain. He knows that the colomber never abandons its chosen victim, but, nevertheless, fatefully attracted to seafaring, Stefano spends his entire life restlessly navigating the globe, the colomber always tantalizingly, ominously behind. Finally, old and disillusioned, never having enjoyed his riches or his travels, Stefano musters the courage to go out and face the enigmatic fish that has haunted his life. Only now as he stands before it does he discover that the colomber was in actuality only chasing after him to give him a pearl endowing its recipient with the gifts of luck, power, love, and peace of mind. Stefano has needlessly thrown away not only decades of his life but also the very essence of it.

“The Bewitched Jacket”

In “La giacca stregata” (“The Bewitched Jacket”), from the same collection, a man discovers that every time he puts his hand into the pocket of his new suit, for which he has not yet paid, he finds a ten-thousand-lire bill. He starts extracting money only to realize that there is a direct relationship between this action and the tragic criminal events he reads about in the newspapers. Still he is unable to resist, until an old woman (who lives in the same apartment house as he) kills herself because she lost her only means of support, her monthly pension money, the sum of which corresponds exactly to the amount the man took from his magic pocket that day. Horrified, he drives to the mountains and burns the jacket but hears a voice saying, “Too late, too late,” though no one is in sight. His car (bought with the mysterious money) is gone, as are his houses and savings in town. He is a ruined man; he also knows that one day the tailor who made that suit for him will demand payment. In this fantastic story, one sees that humans are responsible for their actions and will have to pay for them when the last rendering of accounts comes.

“Suicidio al parco”

Particularly interesting are two surrealistic stories in which a metamorphosis occurs. Unlike Franz Kafka’s novella Die Verwandlung (1915; Metamorphosis, 1936), which opens with a character already inexplicably transformed, Buzzati’s stories show the transformations as they occur and offer reasons for them. In “Suicidio al parco” (suicide in the park), also from Il colombre, a young man’s obsession with fancy cars reaches the point at which he speaks only of cars and ignores his loving, beautiful wife, Faustina. One day, a friend sees him in an unusual, fancy car, which he drives with passion. When asked about Faustina, he is vague, claiming that she has gone back to her parents. Some years later, the friend reads in the newspaper about a car that, driverless, drove through several street blocks, avoiding automobiles and pedestrians, and smashed itself against an old ruin in the park. Immediately, he thinks of Faustina and confronts her husband, who confesses that she, to make him happy, sacrificed herself by becoming a car. On the day of the accident, the thankless husband was on his way to sell the car, which had become old. Faustina, the car, therefore committed suicide. Employing the antique device of literalization—woman as object is transformed into woman is object—Buzzati deftly and economically criticizes a variety of modern ills: narcissism, chauvinism, dehumanization, and technological fetishism.

“The Count’s Wife”

A wife’s metamorphosis is painfully observed by her husband in “La moglie conle ali” (“The Count’s Wife”), from Buzzati’s last collection published in his lifetime, Le notti difficili. The count is much older than his pretty wife, Lucina, and is very jealous of her. One day, he notices a strange growth on his wife’s back, which becomes larger until it turns into full-fledged wings that reach the ground. Extremely worried and fearing scandal in his provincial town, he keeps her locked up and hidden at home. Upon the advice of his mother, a priest is consulted, who suggests that he test the wings: If Lucina can fly, the wings must be a gift of God rather than of the Devil. That night Lucina flies, joyful to be free, but she is locked up again so that she will not be seen. She resolves to continue her flights secretly. One autumn day, she is almost killed by a hunter. To save herself, she cries to the young hunter, whom she recognizes as a friend, not to shoot, and makes herself known. That evening, when the Count comes home, he finds the wings gone. Only the priest suspects that Lucina met the Devil and lost her wings.

Buzzati’s stories are always original, even when based on old literary or pseudoreligious schemes, for he gives them his personal stamp. They are entertaining and at the same time extremely moral. Touching upon problems that are timeless, they are not restricted by national boundaries. Buzzati is, indeed, a master in the art of storytelling.