The Leopard

I don't know what happened to my original copy of The Leopard, which I studied in HSC a looong time ago, but I replaced it some time ago with the one pictured above. I was prompted to re-read Guiseppe di Lampedusa's 1958 classic novel partly by Susan Green, and partly by watching the sumptuous Netflix series based on the book.

Watching the series, I marvelled that I'd forgotten so much of the story -- well, it's not that surprising, because the script writer fleshed out some episodes with invented scenes. But in fact there was quite a bit that I'd genuinely forgotten. I remember how much I adored The Leopard, but what I mostly retained was the atmosphere of languid, lush sensuality, mingled violence and torpor that gave me my first impression of Sicily. My most vivid recollection, skimmed over in the adaptation, was of young lovers Tancredi and Angelica exploring the long-neglected corners of the family's immense villa, trembling on the dangerous edge of desire but never quite giving in -- it was the sexiest thing I'd ever read!

Now I'm old and grey, it's Prince Fabrizio's musings on aging and regret that speak to me most powerfully. There really isn't much plot in The Leopard, but it's still amazingly atmospheric, and the Netflix version succeeded in bringing that atmosphere to life; also, Kim Rossi Stuart is superb as the Prince. At seventeen, I had a huge crush on Tancredi, but now I find him merely irritating. The Leopard was well worth a re-visit.