Leopard, The

Eye-opening account of Sicily. Seems historically accurate. Beautifully written like most Italian novels...flows like a gentle stream. Complex and memorable characters. I bought two more for gift giving. After writing this review, I plan to read it again. Your request for a review provided me with a great flashback!! I will never lend my copy since I'd be afraid of losing track of it. I'm having small built-in book shelves installed in a small room in my house for my favorite books. This is definitely going on the book shelf.

This is an historical novel that is considered by many to be the best novel written by a Sicilian author. The novel is set in Sicily in 1860 and onward into the twentieth century. The story revolves around one particular family whose patriarch is a prince. The author used his own family history as a foundation. The author died before the work was accepted for publication. The story is now widely celebrated. I agree with another reviewer that, for me, the story started slowly. It took me awhile to warm up to the novel. However, by the end I enjoyed the novel, particularly the final two chapters. The second to last chapter about the death of one of the characters, I found very poignant; so much so that I reread it immediately, something I almost never do. As an American, I had always felt that my knowledge of Italy between the fall of the Roman Empire and World War I, was poor. Some time ago I began to repair that by reading numerous histories of Italy, Sicily, and Mediterranean history. I did all of that prior to reading this fine novel. I am really glad that I did so. I think a lot of this story would have had less meaning to me without having done that. There are many historical references in this story that in the past would have meant little to me. I only mention that in case your background is like mine. I feel certain that some detailed knowledge of Italian history really added to my enjoyment of this book. Thank You...

Before the classic Italian movie “The Garden of the Finzi-Continis” (1970), there was Di Lampedusa’s literary masterpiece, which spans the years from 1860 to 1910. It has a wistful, end-of-an-era atmosphere permeating it: the doomed aristocracy going down grandly to meet their certain demise. It’s a sort of Sicilian Downton Abbey, and you never want it to end. There are much worse ways to spend a year of your life than by becoming a diligent student of the Mediterranean. You would want to read deeply in Homer’s “Iliad” and Virgil’s “Aeneid” if you have a taste for antiquity; perhaps Suetonius’ “Twelve Caesaras” if you want a rollicking but trashy and contemporary history. And you would read Paul Theroux if your taste runs more to modernity, and “The Alexandrian Quartet” of Durell, the (relatively) modern Greek poems of Cavafy, Paul Bowles for North Africa, and so on. For Southern Italy, Levis’ “Christ Stopped at Eboli”, and for Sicily, certainly Di Lampedusa’s “Leopard”. “The Leopard’s” cast of characters is rich and legendary. Don Fabrizio, the Prince of Salina, is an autocratic and blustery voluptuary, but he is also a dreamer and an accomplished astronomer whose world of wealth and privilege he can see coming to an end in the modern times. He is impossibly haughty but also surprisingly tender and sentimental. Father Pirrone is devout and precise, an unyielding advocate for the Church and its teachings and privileges, who is regularly humiliated by the Prince in having to accompany him to Palermo on adulterous business. Tancredi is the adopted ward and favorite of the Prince, who prefers him to his biological children; he is a hopeless romantic and an enthusiast for revolution and for sweeping away altogether the old order that feeds and shelters him. Princess Stella, the wife of the Prince, is brittle, long-suffering, devout and devoted to her eccentric husband and her rather vapid children. Paolo is the Prince’s son and heir, and is naturally and painfully jealous of his father’s preferment of Paolo. The voluptuousness, the richness of life, the fantastic ease of corruption and vice, the sensuousness of the food, the sea, the beautiful landscape and even the overwhelming an enervating heat of the Mediterranean sun, all combine to brew an astonishing human stew. It has been regularly and brilliantly written about by novelists and poets – see especially Cavafy, Bowles and Durrell, mentioned above. This book describes the end of the Italian feudal era, beginning with the Italian Resorgimento in the late 19th Century. The warrior Garibaldi and his Red Shirts sweep southward through the Italian peninsula and finally land in Sicily. Chaos ensues, and Palermo falls. The Prince and his family retreat to his country estate in the hills, where they are protected by Tancredi’s revolutionist connections. The Prince’s daughter Concetta loves Tancredi, but he is smitten by the ravishing and wealthy Angelica, so Concetta is furious. The plot begins to play like a Verdi opera, but with wonderfully sly humor, always dry and shrewd, and staying well away from melodrama. The novel borrows from the historical drama of Stendahl and the emotionalism of Flaubert, and gives them a modern Italian gloss of irony and humor. It was written in in the middle of the last century, after the Second World War, and published just after the author’s death; it was his only book. But just listen to this wonderfully evocative prose, describing for example the Sicilian dawn: “Venus still glimmered, a peeled grape, damp and transparent, but you could already hear the rumple of the solar chariot climbing the last slope below the horizon; soon they would meet the first flocks moving toward them torpid as tides…” Two passages merit special attention. The first is in chapter 5, two-thirds of the way through the book, where Father Pirrone delivers a surprisingly brilliant monologue and goes on to defuse an alarming family bombshell with great finesse. The second is chapter 7, “The Death of a Prince”, which wonderfully and with humane sympathy tells of Don Fabrizio’s final hours. This is not only a great novel but an important work of literature and is worthy of a larger audience of serious readers.

The Leopard is one of those rare books that feels both heartbreaking and eye-opening at the same time. Reading it, you can’t help but feel the quiet sadness of change—the fall of old traditions, the passing of time, and how even the most powerful must face the reality of fading away. But within that tragedy is also something deeply human and beautiful. Prince Fabrizio is such a rich, complex character—flawed but wise, proud but painfully aware of the world slipping through his fingers. Lampedusa's writing is just stunning. The imagery, the inner reflections... it feels timeless. You really learn something about life, power, and letting go. I also watched the new Leopard series on Netflix, and honestly, it’s such a great companion to the novel. The visuals bring the story to life in a different way, and it’s fascinating to compare the two. But if you really want to understand the heart of this story, I’d say: read the book first. It lingers with you long after the last page. Highly recommend both the book and the series. They complement each other in the best way.

Possibly one of the most important novels of 20th century Italy. Essential reading for anyone interested in Italy, Sicily, the strange world of Palermo society in the 19th century, the beginnings of the mafia. Beautifully written - not without touches of dry humour (Lampedusa was a fan of Dickens) - acute and subtle delineation of character. Not surprisingly the book was condemned at first by the church, the shady world of the mafia and progressive political parties.

Re-reading this book after 50 years I believe that it is a truly great novel. It is a vivid and poetic evocation of mid-19th century Sicilian society as the aristocratic families are caught up in the Risorgimento. The story is so cleverly and engagingly told that I could not put the book down before the finish. I feel that I have lived through this period of Italian history and that I now have a better understanding of Sicily. A must read for anyone contemplating a visit to the Mezzogiorno.

I loved it

Probably the best Italian novel I have read (of course, I cannot recall any others). We see the dying days of the age of feudalism as the Kingdoom of the Two Sicilyies (I never could spell) is replaced by the Kingdom of Italy and the aristocracy loses ground to the modern world. The hero takes his name from the animal on his coat of arms. We learn to like and admire him (at least I did) yet realize that the world is a better place without such people.

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