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by Alba Dwass
The assignment Rabbi Alder gave us this
past summer was difficult. The more
I thought about it, the more it became
obvious that a single book never changed
my life the way other forms of art did. It
seems far easier for me to find a painting,
a movie, or a record that had the power to
reshape my journey and impact my lifestyle.
Because of one song, I really wanted to be
able to understand the English language, and
it has become the language I use most often.
Because of one movie, I really wanted to visit
New York, and here I have been living for
the past two decades. But Rabbi Alder asked
us to think about a book, so I am going to
write about a book that did not change my
life as I turned its last page, but that has been
present at different stages of my life.
The Adventures of Pinocchio, written by
Carlo Collodi, is a book I have read numerous
times and I can quote almost as well as
Phil Rothman can quote the Harry Potter
series. First published in 1881 in an Italian
magazine for children, The Adventures of
Pinocchio was later completed and published
as a book, soon to become a classic of Italian
literature for children.
Before I could read, The Adventures of
Pinocchio was read to me, and I can still see
myself laughing my head off as my sister read
the first hilarious pages describing the fight
between Master Cherry and Geppetto. Then,
growing up I reread the book several times,
first inspired by the reissue of the Disney
movie in 1971 (I didn’t like the movie, my
first act of cinema criticism, a discipline I
would eventually major in in college), and
then by a beloved television series directed
by Luigi Comencini (for which I entered a
drawing contest and was awarded a poster
that remained for years one of my most
prized possessions). In the late ‘70s, as a
teenager, the inspiration to reread the book
came from the songwriter Edoardo Bennato,
who retold the story of a stringless Pinocchio
in an anti-establishment album. The pain I
first felt as a young child listening to how
easily Fox and Cat deceived Pinocchio and
took all his money became a cry against a
social system that treated you like a puppet
and exploited your desire to be like everyone
else. As I sang Bennato’s songs and protested
in front of my school, I felt Pinocchio had
been cheated into becoming a real boy and
convinced to change his authentic nature. Is
it because of Pinocchio that in the following
years I felt free to explore the world and look
for my own vision of it instead of viewing it
only through the lens of a “normality” offered
by the dominant culture (the “videocracy”
being fed to us by Mr. Berlusconi on his
way to becoming Italian Prime Minister)? I
cannot say it was The Adventures of Pinocchio
that made me what I am, no more that
the dozens of other books I read in those
formative years, but the story of a puppet
who wants to be good and struggles to find
his way to goodness, has always been a point
of reference to me.
When my first child was born and a
beautifully illustrated copy of Le Avventure
di Pinocchio arrived for her in the mail from
Italy, I wondered if I could ever be able to
teach her how to fluently read the warm
Tuscan sounds pouring out of the page,
fully grasp the only apparent simplicity of
Collodi’s language, feel the nostalgia for the
settings depicting a young nation and its
hopes. So I read the book to her, and then
to her and her brother, several times over the
years and just this past summer we eagerly
listened to a reading performed by Paolo Poli
on the Italian radio.
Reading the book again and again as a
parent has been extremely interesting for
me. At first I didn’t identify with Pinocchio
anymore, but with Geppetto and the Fairy.
To me, Pinocchio was now the product of
poor parenting. I found myself harshly
condemning Geppetto for the choice of
sending Pinocchio alone on the first day
of school instead of accompanying him to
protect him from possible danger. Or, I found
myself questioning the Fairy’s disciplinary
methods when she lets the poor Pinocchio
stand in the cold the whole night with his
foot stuck in the door. As I kept rereading
the book to my children and as they were
becoming more and more independent from
me and their father, I started arguing with
myself. How could I judge Geppetto and the
Fairy? After all, did I really know what I was
doing as a parent? Is there a way to gauge
how well I prepared my children to face the
world? Shifting my position and starting to
identify Pinocchio as one of my children, a
new set of questions emerged. I asked myself
if I was allowing them the freedom Pinocchio
has. The thought was scary. Will they rebel
the way Pinocchio does? Will they ignore the
Talking Cricket‘s advice? Will they scuffle as
much to find what they really want to be?
Will they learn from their mistakes or simply
make them again and again?
As my daughter is approaching the age
I was when I protested in front of my high
school and became determined not to be a
puppet in someone else’s hands (my parents’
hands), I now identify with Pinocchio once
again. This past summer, listening to Poli’s
friendly sounding voice, I realized this was
the first time in a while someone was reading
The Adventures of Pinocchio to me. No longer
the interpreter, I could just enjoy the story.
Hearing every bad choice Pinocchio makes
and how he is given a new chance to do
better after he repents made me think, just as
the High Holidays drew closer, of my missed
marks. After Geppetto and Pinocchio are
reunited in the belly of the Shark and escape
from it, they are helped by a Tuna who had
also been captured in the belly of the sea
monster. When Pinocchio recognizes him
and asks how had he managed to escape,
the Tuna answers, “I followed your example.
You showed me the way and I escaped after
you did.” Making the right choice doesn’t
only impact us and our families, but the
community at large and helps building it.
Listening to how Pinocchio embraces his
new life of happiness after having made
a series of good choices, I could not help
but remember one of Phil’s most quoted
Professor Dumbledore’s statements from
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, “It is
our choices Harry, that show what we truly
are, far more than our abilities.”
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