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Relatively unexamined by scholars, the complex and extensive animal imagery Levi employed in his literary works offers new insights into the aesthetical and ethical function of testimony, as well as an original perspective on contemporary debates surrounding human-animal relationships and posthumanism. Skip to main content Skip to table of contents. Advertisement Hide.


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Front Matter Pages i-xx. Primo Levi and the Question of the Animal. Pages Suffering I. What seems like a bad pun depicts exactly the mood and the setting of Tele, a Norse term for describing underground water that is frozen. While their former works Sart and Sval of and respectively were dark and gloomy, the duo of Jostein Dahl Gjelsvik and Rune Andre Sagevik present a totally different approach on their third album by oscillating between the much-loved dark territory the band is known for, and unexpectedly glittering and bright inclusions without the risk of delivering an end product that is too mellow or joyful.

Tele is released on the record label Glacial Movements, and it is a befitting surrounding for the frostiest album the duo has ever released. Almost all the time there is something popping, clicking and crackling, evoking the atmosphere of an organic landscape that is traversed by different kinds of ice, snow and rocks. The composition of what is usually simply called stone is another key element of the album.

Several tracks concentrate on audio representations of schists, flints and granites, and the band surprises the connoisseur of their work many times. As if the Tele was a reaction to the crestfallen heaviness of their previous album Sval, the opening track Fnugg begins with thaw. Foggy background synths, eerie sirens and the incessant sound of droplets and crackles display a kind of fragility that I did not associate with the band before.

And as this short opener shows, the duo parries this train of thought by slowly modulating the strings and moving them into darker, machine-like territory. Gneis is next and fades right into Fnugg, absorbing the drones for most of its time. Howling wind noises in the distance, oscillating haze plus vault-like reverberations are ubiquitous companions in the first part of the track, while the second part introduces the sternly gleaming incisiveness of thonging synth pads, shifting the mood almost to cherubic timbres.

Soon enough, however, the atmosphere reaches the freezing point yet again with muffled rattles, blurry clangs and sounds of waterfalls. During the end, a glowing but cold synth string illuminates the fog and fades out slowly, marking the end of Gneis. And Gneis is yet another track that displays the counterpoint nature of this album by presenting an intermingling of fragile crackles and monolithic deepness. Pjusk never sounded like this before, and this track has captured my heart by terrifying me and by giving me moments of tranquility at the same time in an icy area.

Up next is Flint, an ethereal track that slowly builds a moment with howling wind noises, dewing snow crackles, scary frizzles and trembling square lead pads. Gentle beats are added, and the glacial strings in the background are complemented by mercurial pulses and various bells. Even though the setup is serious and deep, the track also inherits a certain lightness due to the high-pitched elements and its organic pulses.

Skifer follows and is a completely atypical Pjusk track with incredibly thick synth sounds as usual, but the presentation differs: a surprisingly lively and quickly-paced melody is played that is accompanied by rhythmical beats. The track is bright and — eureka! However, this is not meant as an insult, but is just a rather flippant remark.

While the drones in Skifer are equally dark and a synth tempest is going on in the background, the brightness of the main melody defeats the darker elements. A successful, totally unexpected experiment! Krystallgives away the overall concept in its title already because crystal-like structures are easy to create with the help of synths. And indeed, the song is glaringly sparkling with sublime, monotonous background synths, a surprisingly hectical loop of glittering pulses and the addition of various hisses, some of them sputtering while others are mellow. Electric buzzes are playing in unison with hectical bass pulses.

This track is a tiny letdown for me, as its name inoked a more dreamy, concentrated and pompous representation. That it is rather lively and thus not as deep as I thought it to be is no flaw of the song itself, but the strange correlation between title and expectation. It is, after all, a standout track due to its brightness. Granitt is the next rock stratum of Tele and is a distinctly rhythmical track with a bouncy percussion. The blithesomeness is soon accompanied by mesmerically blistering synth strings which are played in major, but are then played antithetically, in a more cacophonous way.

Another element which I am fond of are the cascading bells that occur for a short moment as well as the snow-related crackles and pops which can be included thousands of times without sounding stale or boring. The percussion later wanes and makes room for computer noises and a more solemn and calmer atmosphere. The beatless Kram follows and brings back the melancholy and fogginess from the beginning of Tele.

It is the last minute of this piece where the song truly shines and an unprecedented feeling of warmth and comfort is added in the form of clear-cut and sharp but polyphonous synth pads. The next song is a Pjusk song by the numbers: The rather short Bre is a terrifically mysterious and soothing beatless piece whose ambience consists of a compelling majesty that transports tranquility and sereneness with the help of slow synth strings, flittering and spectral synth fragments and galactic background synths. The last song is Polar which consists of two highly distinctive sections and is the clear brethren of my favorite Gneis, bringing back darkness and endangerment all of a sudden.

The beginning, however, is delicately mysterious with powerful strings, deep bass rumbles and a gas stove-like drone sound. After the first minute, however, an incisively dark synth is introduced, reminiscent of the ship horn-like signal in Gneis. Suddenly, everything is eerily quiet and only the repeated ship horn is heard. After 3 minutes, the song shifts into its second section with glacial percussion and various bells and synth sparks.

Any superstructure of darkness and fog has waned, making room for a devoutly blissful downbeat segmentation. This segment features a curious juxtaposition of bright elements that evoke melancholy and reclusiveness notwithstanding. To my surprise, Tele is as crystalline, icy and fragile as it is gusty, forceful and overawing.

The constant interplay between the concepts of reposefulness and elemental forces has never been this differentiated on their albums before.

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Take their album Sval for instance, which is almost inconceivably gloomy, ethereal and quite heavy. The mood never strays into additional directions. OnTele, however, luminous fluxes destroy any melancholy and point their rays to the microcosmic structure of the glistening fissures and fractals of the stones, rocks and crags which are transcoded into music.

These peaceful observations are then confronted with natural powers, deep bass drones and turbulent snowdrifts as in Gneis and Polar, for instance. I can imagine that Pjusk took quite a risk with this album, as there are always two fanbases for every band: those who want the sound to evolve by staying true to the style and formula the artist is known for, and those who want to be surprised and are embracing new directions more than the inclusion of formulae close to the hearts. Tele, as a result, is not as coherent as their previous albums.

It is by no means a rollercoaster ride. But it is crystal clear that the overarching strategy consists of the merging of clashing ingredients. I for one like the warmer sounds of the band as well as the cavernous mystique and the gorgeously intimidating bass drones. People who want the Pjusk sound they came to love should listen to the first half of the album, while the second half consists of more surprises and shifts in direction. This might be a coincidence, but I observed it this way. My absolute favorites are the aforementioned Gneis and Polar, while the warmth of Skifer andBre are equally important runner-ups.

Alessandro Tedeschi's Glacial Movements make another inspired step forward with a new album from Pjusk. Entitled 'Tele' the Norwegian word for frozen submerged water , it is a sum of two parts; at once deeply abstract and unnervingly dark, and yet, at once warm and gentle on the ear.

Their soundscapes are wide and all-encompassing, freezing their Scandinavian landscape into an icy corporeal body of ambience. Third Pjusk album came out on Glacial Movements. And it's a killer. Interview with the duo about creating music, influences, past, future. And even more. Pjusk first appeared on the American cult-label 12k, and with their debut album Sart they instantly became one of the finest pioneers of icy ambient music. This time none other than Alessandro Tedeschi, head of the excellent Glacial Movements approached the duo, and finally, Tele is out.

And, as I said: it's a killer. Not only keeps it the cold atmosphere and high-tech sounding of tiny little details, but it also moves toward previously unexperienced brightness. This combination of the sometimes severe Pjusk sound and the airy and uplifting textures and melodies culminates in the revelation that Tele might be the best Pjusk album so far. I chatted with Jostein Dahl Gjelsvik, here it goes. Due album all'attivo con la veterana 12k records, in entrambi i casi album delizioni con un sound design minimalista ed un occhio di riguardo alla cura del dettaglio.

Un suono che ha convinto in tutto e per tutto la romana ed ormai solidissima label Glacial Movements, quel piccolo miracolo gestito e portato avanti da Alessandro Tedeschi produttore per la stessa con lo pseudonimo Netherworld. Un disco molto eterogeneo, con continui cambi di direzione che muovono pur sempre pedine dai toni di grigio.

I loro paesaggi devono averli visti sicuramente di notte, quando ad interrompere i silenzi ci sono tutte le voci ed i rumori delle ore tarde. Sicuramente ci troviamo di fronte ad un linguaggio che parla in maniera differente ma che tiene sempre in primo piano quello spirito evocativo che pervade l'ascoltatore capace di viaggiare con la mente.

Their CD Tele 50'55" drifts the listener between actively engaging with this work's unique sound design and the dim inner realm of sleep. The nine tracks are presented across two sections. While the first sonic story is painted from a darker palette, the second still feels icy but somewhat brighter. Bestowing a solemn brittle coldness Tele maintains a complex kind of directness, as if straight out of a dream. Opening with several monstrous horn blasts, a marvelous unease is created and persists over the next few tracks. I have shed so many tears.

But now your destiny is fulfilled. The Bronze Horse by Luigi Capuana translated by Santi Buscemi There once was a king and queen who had a daughter more beautiful than the moon and the sun, and they loved her more than the pupils of their own eyes. One day, someone came and said to the king: If she is not here within three days, woe to him! What were they to do? The savage was terrifying; he could devastate the entire kingdom. She was told to say that she was the daughter of the king. The next day, the girl returned to the palace. The princess has a birth- mark on this arm!

If the princess is not with him within two days, woe is you! Doveva dire che lei era la figlia del Re. Il povero Re e la povera Regina avrebbero battuto il capo nel muro. E mi ha rimandato dicendo: Per la salvezza del regno, bisogna sacrificare la Reginotta! Il Re non sapeva rassegnarsi: Passato un anno, un mese e un giorno, arriva a corte un forestiero, che chiede di parlare col Re.

Era un nanetto alto due spanne, gobbo e sbilenco, con un naso che pareva un becco di barbagianni e certi occhietti piccini piccini. Il Re non aveva voglia di ridere; ma come vide quello sgorbio non seppe frenarsi. The savage knows that the princess has a birthmark on her left arm; it is impossible to fool him.


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She was to say that she was the daughter of the king. However, the next day, the young woman came back. Why should they throw that joy of a daughter into the arms of the savage? We will look for another young woman. The artist will paint the birthmark on her arm, and he will dye three hairs on the nape of her neck white.

The savage will not know the difference.

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But the next day, even this young woman came back. He looked through the hair on the nape of my neck. In order to save the kingdom, you will have to sacrifice the princess! The king could not resign himself to this; he would rather sacrifice the blood of his own veins than give up his daughter. But fate would have it this way, and he had to submit. The princess showed herself to be more courageous than them all. After all, the savage would not eat her!

She put on a wedding gown, and accom- panied by the king, the queen, members of the court, and an im- mense number of subjects, she made her way toward the forest amid weeping and heart-rending cries. E non era trascorsa una settimana, che il Re riceveva un avviso: Il Nano, di quando in quando, gli domandava: Ma quello cambiava discorso: Si era rizzato di terra, si era ripulito il vestitino, ed era andato via, lesto lesto, come se nulla fosse stato.

Lei dunque voleva quel Nano gobbo e sbilenco? Anche la Regina non viveva tranquilla: Il Re rispondeva con una spallucciata: Ma la Reginotta ripeteva: From that point, nothing was heard about her or about the savage. However, after a year, a month, and a day, there came to court a stranger who wished to speak with the king. If you give me half the kingdom as well as the hand of the princess in marriage, I will free her from the hands of the savage. And before a week passed, the king received a message: They believed that this runt was trying to trick them.

And at sunrise, there appeared the hunchbacked, lop-sided dwarf, who was leading the princess by the hand. She was dressed as a bride, just as she had been she entered the forest to meet the savage. The celebrations and the banquets never ended. However, no one ever spoke of the wedding or of giving half the kingdom away. Now that he had his daughter and the savage had been killed by the dwarf, the king no longer knew how to keep his word. From time to time, the dwarf asked him: They went to search for him in the street, but he was gone.

He had gotten up from the ground, had cleaned himself off, and had run away very quickly. It was as if he had never been there. However, from that day forward, the princess became melancholic. She refused to speak and to laugh, and she had lost the color in her cheeks. Did you want that hunchbacked, lopsided dwarf? Il giorno delle nozze era vicino. La gente accorreva in folla nel giardino del Re, dove il cavallo di bronzo era stato collocato su un magnifico piedistallo. Par di sentirlo nitrire! Scese a vederlo anche il Re con la corte; e tutti: Solo la Reginotta non diceva nulla.

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Gli tastava il ciuffo, gli accarezzava il collo, lo spronava leggermente col tacco; e intanto diceva scherzando: Tutti erano atterriti; non osavano fiatare. Ma in mezzo a quel silenzio scoppia a un tratto una risatina, una risatina di canzonatura! Il Nano continuava a contorcersi dalle risa: Cavallo, mio cavallo,Non metter piede in fallo;Torna sul piedistallo,Cavallo, mio cavallo.

Allora il Nano disse al Re: The prince of Portugal sent word that he wanted to marry the princess. The princess said neither yes nor no, but the king and queen could not wait to celebrate the marriage.

The prince of Portugal started his journey, and on the way he met a man who was driving a large cart with a bronze horse in it, which looked as if it were alive. The day of the wedding neared. They were all astonished: Amazed, the prince asked her: She stroked his forelock, she caressed his neck, she spurred him lightly with her heel , and all the while she said jok- ingly: In the wink of a eye, the horse and the princess were no longer to be seen. The king watched, and he saw the dwarf who was writhing with laughter, he with his little hump and his crooked little legs.

He knew right away that what the horse had done was the work of the dwarf. Sorrowfully, the King said: But the dwarf continued to writhe with laughter: And finally, even the queen began to laugh. Only the poor king now felt scorned and humiliated, a pitiful sight. However, his love for his daughter made him consent. He turned his back to the dwarf and waited for the kick; however, the dwarf wanted to show himself to be more generous than he and, instead of kicking him, he said: Then, the dwarf said: With that, the dwarf ceased to be a dwarf and became a handsome, tall young man. The prince of Portugal realized that he could not marry the princess, and he said: The princess and the dwarf they always called him that became husband and wife.

And here we remain, just licking our fin- gers. This book won the foreign section of the National Frascati award in and was rendered into Italian by Antonella Anedda and Carle. Alfredo De Palchi was born in near Verona. He grew up with his mother and grandfather and as a teenager was tortured by the Fascists and the Partisans. He was then imprisoned for six years. De Palchi has resided in New York City for over thirty years, yet maintains strong ties to his native Italy. It consists of writing no American poet would undertake. Although his poetic line is drawn out, his poems do not tell stories.

They are always based on a precise physical or concrete experience, which is then arrested and trans- formed. We can say that his style is devoid of sentimentality. De Palchi is not afraid to confront sex and eroticism with shattering metaphoric visions.

Glacial Movements - Reviews

The three poems here translated all from Paradigma, Mimesis Hebenon, are typical of his work from a thematic and stylistic standpoint, the erotic amorous vein, the trans- gressive spirituality, and the ever-present memory of wartime trau- mas all merge into distinctly charged poetic entities.

In uno di questi alberghi, il Phoenicia, col nome inglese pronto per ituristi americani, ci diedero una bellissima camera con la terrazza sul mareaccogliendoci con un enorme cesto di frutta. Poi ci mettemmo alla ricerca della solita guida disposta a trasportare le macchine fotografiche. Era basso, grasso, puzzolente, sporco: Kirschenbaum Some fifteen years after the end of the war [World War II] we went to Beirut, which was then a splendid city, its shoreline studded with fabulous hotels, those that the criminal madness of munitions makers would have destroyed some twenty years later, mowing down so many human lives on the pretext of this or that ideology.

In one of these hotels, the Phoenicia, its English name ready for Ameri- can tourists, we were given a very lovely room with balcony overlooking the sea, a room that welcomed us with an enormous basket of fruit. The open-air bar was set up at a lower level than the swimming pool, and once we were seated there the swimmers could be seen from low down instead of from above. Even apart from the pool the hotel was so pleasant that we stayed there for several days just doing nothing, resting after a very exhausting trip in the Middle East.

Then we set about looking for the usual guide willing to carry around photographic equipment. He was short, fat, foul-smelling, dirty: We visited one of the most beautiful museums ever seen, we bought some item for my ethnographic collection, Lino took tens of rolls of photographs. The next day Lino said: Thus we left by car on our own for Damascus. The road soon began to stretch out through the desert and on both sides we saw every so often Bedouins in little groups of four or five t a time.

Era una situazione senza speranza. In pochi minuti ci lasciarono passare, tutti improvvisamente sorridenti e amichevoli; ma quando arrivammo a Damasco era pomeriggio tardi, il museo era chiuso e ci mettemmo a girare alla cieca in cerca di un albergo. E inutile descrivere quello che trovammo. Le didascalie erano perfette: Passando davanti a uno spaccio di scarpe occidentalizzate riconoscemmo o credemmo di riconoscere da una sua strana acconciatura uno dei beduini visti il giorno prima lungo la strada: Arrivammo in albergo a sera avanzata e trovammo quella guida orribile ad aspettarci.

Finse che avevamo sbagliato giorno, che ci aveva aspettato fin dal mattino, pretese di essere pagato. No one was capable of reading the western alphabet and the border police kept on passing our documents from one to the other and turning them between their hands with a suspicious manner. It was a hopeless situation. In a few minutes they let us go through, all of a sudden smiling and friendly; but when we reached Damascus it was late afternoon, the museum was closed and we set out blindly wandering in search of a hotel.

Next morning we were at the door of the museum before it opened, and when they let us in we received our reward: The identifying note-cards were perfect: We left again convinced that the one in Damascus, along with the one in Beirut, was one of the better arranged museums in the world and we went on our way toward the highway.

Passing in front of a westernized shoe shop we recognized or thought we recognized from his strange attire one of the Bedouins seen the day before along the street. We arrived at the hotel in the late evening and found that horrible guide waiting for us. Avevo in mente che Lino se ne facesse un anello ma Lino non se lo fece mai. La visita al Castello dei Crociati la ricordo male. Lino attraverso lo spessore dei muri non sentiva e quando riuscii a divincolarmi cominciai a correre come in un sogno angoscioso, proprio come in quei labirinti di cui si parla tanto adesso nei convegni letterari, inseguita dalla guida che rideva alla Lovecraft.

E gli raccontai la mia storia. Rusconi, ; repub- lished But there were no other guides available, and we came to an agreement with him for the next day. That evening we read in the Blue Guide about what the Castle was and the next day there we were on the ancient Phoenician beach. Young boys were in the water up to their knees.

They had already raked through the sand and now they were looking around underwater for greenish Ro- man shards of glass that they sell to tourists as Phoenician and that I com- plying with the rule bought along with a lovely star in relief on a round coin fascinatingly oxidized. I had in mind that Lino should make a ring out of it but Lino never made it.

Lino, as always, pho- tographed everything without paying attention to me and while I wandered through the corridors in the darkness between high walls, dank and black, I was unexpectedly attacked by the so-called guide, who leapt upon me from behind. Lino on the other side of the thickness of the walls did not hear and when I managed to break loose I began to run as in an anxiety nightmare, through those very labyrinths about which so much is said these days at literary conferences, closely pursued by the guide who was laughing like a maniac out of the stories of H.

The more I ran the worse I got lost, and I threw myself into a state of anguish fit to tell in psychoanalysis. By pure chance I ended up, guided by a thread of light, at a sort of window where Lino was leaning to photograph the outside, and I set up a clamor. When we went toward the exit the guide, who had made us pay in advance, had disappeared.

And I told him my story. We never spoke of it further. The next day we left, with the sweet- scented slopes covered with cedars fixed in memory, beyond the bloody destruction that lay in wait for them. Riccardo Cordiferro Riccardo Cordiferro , pseudonym for poet, playwright, jour- nalist and political activist, Alessandro Sisca, emigrated to the U. In , he, his father Francesco and brother Marziale, founded La Follia, a newspaper which was widely read in the major Eastern Italian colonies. Adapted from his similarly titled poem, it exposes the dishonesty of some Italian-Ameri- can bankers and their tragic exploitation of Italian immigrants, and touches on the emancipation of women.

Attributing it to the playwright is supported by the following evidence: Cordiferro also edited manually in what is clearly his own, characteristic handwriting. The script is replete with not only literary changes but corrections of typographical errors, misspellings, capitalization, punctuation, missing words, layout, form and grammar. The manuscript is undated, with no indication when it was typed and edited. The play was completed in and premiered in The date of this manuscript, therefore, could fall anywhere between and its last production in Audiences, composed of the displaced men and women of Italy, were hungry for enter- tainment, recognition, a support system and social intercourse, all emotional needs which the theatres and the nightclubs helped to satisfy.

All these factors contributed to creating an original theatrical expression: During the 19th Century, a great variety of dramatic forms and entertainments were essayed on Italian-American stages. First and foremost, audiences came to the theatre expecting to be entertained. Italian and European writers were introduced to immigrant audiences, many of whom had never before experienced the theatre or the classics of literature.

The Italian-Ameri- can experience also furnished subject matter for original plays written by Italian immigrant playwrights, among them Riccardo Cordiferro. Ad un ta tratto si sente bussare alla porta. Fate sempre la sostenuta voi! Siate ragionevole una volta! Io non voglio farvi alcun male.

Sono venuto soltanto a trovarvi. E con quale sfacciataggine osate affermarlo? In casa mia voi non ci dovete venire Voi siete un miserabile, una spia, un traditore! Suddenly a knock is heard at the door. What do you want? You always act aloof! Be reasonable for once! I came here only to find you. With what audacity do you dare say that? You should not be in my house. You are a despicable sneak, a traitor! Con un gesto di minaccia Ah, tacete!

Impedendogli di avanzarsi Si, ve lo ripeto: Non sono stato io che ho fatto arrestare vostro marito. Ma non sono una donna senza onore io, e voi ben mi conoscete! Io non desidero altro al mondo che 1' amore di mio marito! Le mostra una borsa piena di monete Se io vi offrissi questa borsa? Scagliandosi verso di lui, come una belva ferita. With a menacing gesture Oh, shut up! But if that were true, I would have done it to punish your pride.

Love is an ironic joke when you suffer from hunger! But I never thought that when you married I would be made to beg you so much, to. With greater insistence, coming even closer to her But. He shows her a wallet full of money What if I were to offer you this wallet? Rushing toward him like a wounded, wild beast. Coward, a thousand times coward!

No amount of money would be enough to buy my honor. Riesce finalmente ad afferarla per la vita ti voglio, insomma, che ti desidero Sofia!? Esci, esci da qui, miserabile He finally succeeds in grabbing her at the waist I want you, finally, that I desire you Sofia!? It will never be! In the blink of an eye she rushes to the cupboard; in a flash she pulls out a pistol and suddenly turns around It will never be! So this is the way you attack someone who wants to help you?

He picks up his wallet which had fallen to the floor during the scuffle, and puts it in his pocket, always watching out for the gun aimed toward him I will go, yes. SOFIA Following him to the door, grasping the gun, ready to pull the trigger if he lingers another minute longer. Get out, get out of here, you bum. Giuseppe lo chiama ancora una volta.

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Io son venuto a visitarti, per vederti finalmente libero e compiacermene. Ti ho visto e me ne vado. Qualche altro giorno staremo assieme lungo tempo. Oggi, sei stanco e hai bisogno di riposo. Then staring him in the face, wanting to make him understand that with his look alone his hour has come. Do you feel sick? Short pause Take heart, because now you will get healthy.

I came to visit you, to enjoy seeing you finally free. Segue una lotta disperata a corpo a corpo. Tu non hai il dritto di vivere in mezzo a gli uomini Ho vendicato il mio onore!