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| Mark Twain |
Mark Twain:
la vita e le opere
Breve biografia |
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Mark Twain pseudonimo di Samuel Langhorne Clemens, scrittore statunitense (Florida, Missouri, 1835 - Reddington, Connecticut 1910)
Trascorse i primi anni di vita a Hannibal, sulle rive del Mississipi (luoghi che ricorreranno nelle sue opere). Appena dodicenne lavor come litografo e pi tardi come pilota fluviale sul Mississippi; partecip alla guerra civile. Segu un periodo di viaggi con il fratello Orion, durante il quale intraprese una fortunatissima carriera di conferenziere. Conclusa la successiva avventura di minatore e cercatore d'oro in Nevada, inizi la carriera giornalistica, che lo vide collaborare a diversi quotidiani e lo port, come inviato, da un continente all'altro. Dal 1865 i suoi racconti, apparsi prima su riviste e poi raccolti in volume, ottennero un crescente successo, rivelando le sue qualit di caricaturista sottile. Nel 1870 si spos con Olivia Langdon, compagna anche nelle avventure letterarie, e si stabil a Hartford, dove tuttavia dimor solo nei momenti di sosta tra un giro e l'altro di conferenze. Con i fortunatissimi romanzi Le avventure di Tom Sawyer (1876), Vita sul Mississippi (1883) e Le avventure di Huckleberry Finn (1884) cre un'epopea americana con tratti umoristici e picareschi. Nelle opere successive si accentuarono quei sintomi di disagio che gi si muovevano nella coscienza dei suoi primi personaggi (Wilson lo svitato, 1894; L'uomo che corruppe Hadleyburg, 1900).
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Cronologia delle opere |
Fonti: la bibliografia di Mark Twain tratta da: Mark Twain su Wikipedia, l'Enciclopedia libera
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Le avventure di Tom Sawyer(The adventures of Tom Sawyer) Traduzione di Vincenzo Mantovani |
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Incipit Tom! Nessuna risposta. Tom! Nessuna risposta. Dove sar andato a ficcarsi quel ragazzo? Tom! La vecchia signora si tir gli occhiali sulla punta del naso e volse, sopra le lenti, lo sguardo nella stanza; poi se li spinse sulla fronte e guard da sotto in su. Di rado o forse mai, per cercare una cosa piccina come un ragazzo, guardava attraverso le lenti, perch quelli erano i suoi occhiali pi eleganti, l'orgoglio del suo cuore, e non dovevano rispondere a un criterio di utilit ma semplicemente conferire distinzione: ci avrebbe visto altrettanto bene attraverso due piastre da cucina. Per un attimo ebbe un'aria perplessa, poi disse, con meno vigore, ma sempre abbastanza forte per farsi sentire dalla mobilia: Oh, se ti metto le mani addosso, io... ...
Incipit originale "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service -- she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll --"
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Le avventure di Huckleberry Finn(The adventures of Huckleberry Finn) Traduzione di Giovanni Baldi |
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Incipit I Vengo a sapere di Mos e dei giunchi Voi di me non sapete niente se non avete letto un libro che si chiama Le avventure di Tom Sawyer, ma questo non importa. Questo libro l'ha fatto Mr. Mark Twain, e lui ha detto la verit, in genere. Certe cose le ha tirate in lungo, ma di solito ha detto la verit. Ma questo niente. Non ho mai visto nessuno che non ha contato delle balle, prima o poi, tranne zia Polly, o la vedova, o magari Mary. La zia Polly - cio la zia Polly di Tom - e Mary e la vedova Douglas, beh, c' tutto in quel libro, che in genere un libro veritiero, anche se un po' tirato in lungo, come ho detto prima. ...
Incipit originale YOU don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was Aunt Polly, or the widow, or maybe Mary. Aunt Polly -- Tom's Aunt Polly, she is -- and Mary, and the Widow Douglas is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before.
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Wilson lo svitato(Pudd'n head Wilson) Traduzione di Franco Cordelli |
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Incipit Non c' personalit, per quanto schietta e rispettabile, che non possa essere schiacciata dal ridicolo, anche se insipido e a buon mercato. Prendete l'asino, per esempio: ha un carattere perfetto e fra tutti gli animali pi umili ha l'animo pi nobile; eppure guardate come l'ha ridotto il ridicolo. Invece di sentirci onorati quando ci danno dell'asino, restiamo perplessi. Dal Calendario di Wilson lo Svitato ...
Incipit originale There is no character, howsoever good and fine, but it can be destroyed by ridicule, howsoever poor and witless. Observe the ass, for instance: his character is about perfect, he is the choicest spirit among all the humbler animals, yet see what ridicule has brought him to. Instead of feeling complimented when we are called an ass, we are left in doubt. --Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar
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Uno yankee del Connecticut alla corte di Re Art(A Connecticut yankee in King Arthur's court) |
| Incipit
Fu al Castello di Warwick che incontrai il curioso straniero di cui sto per parlare. Ne fui attratto per tre cose: la sua candida semplicit, la sua meravigliosa familiarit con le antiche armature, e la sua compagnia riposante - nel senso che parlava sempre lui. Ci trovammo vicini, come succede alla gente modesta, nella coda del gregge che veniva guidato alla visita, e lui a un tratto cominci a dire cose che mi interessarono. Mentre parlava, sommesso, piacevole, fluido, sembrava che venisse pian piano trasportato fuori da questo mondo e da questo tempo, in qualche epoca remota e in un paese da lungo tempo dimenticato; e cos a poco a poco m'intesseva intorno un tale incantesimo che mi pareva di muovermi tra gli spettri e le ombre, la polvere e la muffa di una grigia antichit, e di parlare con una sua reliquia. Esattamente come io parlerei dei miei pi prossimi amici o nemici, o dei miei pi noti vicini, lui parlava di ser Bedivere, ser Bors de Ganis, ser Lancillotto del Lago, ser Galahad, e degli altri grandi nomi della Tavola Rotonda - e come sembrava diventare vecchio, indicibilmente vecchio e appassito, secco e ammuffito mentre procedeva! ...
Incipit originale IT was in Warwick Castle that I came across the curious stranger whom I am going to talk about. He attracted me by three things: his candid simplicity, his marvelous familiarity with ancient armor, and the restfulness of his company -- for he did all the talking. We fell together, as modest people will, in the tail of the herd that was being shown through, and he at once began to say things which interested me. As he talked along, softly, pleasantly, flowingly, he seemed to drift away imperceptibly out of this world and time, and into some remote era and old forgotten country; and so he gradually wove such a spell about me that I seemed to move among the specters and shadows and dust and mold of a gray antiquity, holding speech with a relic of it! Exactly as I would speak of my nearest personal friends or enemies, or my most familiar neighbors, he spoke of Sir Bedivere, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Launcelot of the Lake, Sir Galahad, and all the other great names of the Table Round -- and how old, old, unspeakably old and faded and dry and musty and ancient he came to look as he went on!
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Storia di un cavalloA HORSE'S TALE |
| Incipit in English SOLDIER BOY--PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF I am Buffalo Bill's horse. I have spent my life under his saddle-- with him in it, too, and he is good for two hundred pounds, without his clothes; and there is no telling how much he does weigh when he is out on the war-path and has his batteries belted on. He is over six feet, is young, hasn't an ounce of waste flesh, is straight, graceful, springy in his motions, quick as a cat, and has a handsome face, and black hair dangling down on his shoulders, and is beautiful to look at; and nobody is braver than he is, and nobody is stronger, except myself. Yes, a person that doubts that he is fine to see should see him in his beaded buck-skins, on my back and his rifle peeping above his shoulder, chasing a hostile trail, with me going like the wind and his hair streaming out behind from the shelter of his broad slouch. Yes, he is a sight to look at then--and I'm part of it myself.
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Seguendo l'equatoreFollowing the Equator a Journey Around the World |
| Incipit in English A man may have no bad habits and have worse. --Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar. The starting point of this lecturing-trip around the world was Paris, where we had been living a year or two. We sailed for America, and there made certain preparations. This took but little time. Two members of my family elected to go with me. Also a carbuncle. The dictionary says a carbuncle is a kind of jewel. Humor is out of place in a dictionary. We started westward from New York in midsummer, with Major Pond to manage the platform-business as far as the Pacific. It was warm work, all the way, and the last fortnight of it was suffocatingly smoky, for in Oregon and Columbia the forest fires were raging. We had an added week of smoke at the seaboard, where we were obliged awhile for our ship. She had been getting herself ashore in the smoke, and she had to be docked and repaired.
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Il principe e il poveroThe Prince and the Pauper |
| Incipit in English Chapter I. The birth of the Prince and the Pauper. In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another English child was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who did want him. All England wanted him too. England had so longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for him, that, now that he was really come, the people went nearly mad for joy. Mere acquaintances hugged and kissed each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, and high and low, rich and poor, feasted and danced and sang, and got very mellow; and they kept this up for days and nights together. By day, London was a sight to see, with gay banners waving from every balcony and housetop, and splendid pageants marching along. By night, it was again a sight to see, with its great bonfires at every corner, and its troops of revellers making merry around them. There was no talk in all England but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious of all this fuss, and not knowing that great lords and ladies were tending him and watching over him--and not caring, either. But there was no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty, lapped in his poor rags, except among the family of paupers whom he had just come to trouble with his presence.
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