In Other Words (15 page)

T
here are so many things that continue to confuse me in Italian. Prepositions, for example:
alla
parete,
per
terra,
dal
calzolaio,
in
edicola
(on the wall, on the ground, at the shoemaker, at the newsstand). To review them, I could take notes
nel
quaderno
or
sul
taccuino
(in the exercise book or in the notebook). I have a grammar containing a series of exercises of this sort, to help foreign students:
“Mettiti miei panni e prova vedere la situazione i miei occhi”
(Put yourself my clothes and try see the situation my eyes). They are tedious, but I do them anyway; if I want to master the language, there's no way out. And yet I never manage to fill in those blank spaces perfectly. Maybe this stupendous sentence from a story by Alberto Moravia would be sufficient to teach me the prepositions once and for all: “
Sbucammo finalmente
su
una piazza
al
sole,
in
un venticello frizzante
da
neve,
davanti
un parapetto
oltre
il quale non c'era che la luce
di
un grande panorama che non si vedeva”
(“We finally emerged onto a square in the sun, in a crisp breeze hinting at snow, in front of a parapet beyond which there was only the light of a grand panorama that couldn't be seen”).

Another thorn in my side is the use of the article—it's not clear to me when you use it and when it's dropped. Why does one say
c'è vento
(it's windy), but
c'è
il
sole
(it's sunny)? I struggle to understand the difference between
uno stato
d
'animo
(a state of mind) and
una busta
della
spesa
(a shopping bag),
giorni
di
scirocco
(days of sirocco) and
la linea
dell
'orizzonte
(the line of the horizon). I tend to make mistakes, putting the article when there's no need (as in
“Parliamo
del
cinema,”
instead of
di
cinema,
or
“Sono venuta in Italia per cambiare
la
strada,”
instead of
cambiare strada;
“We're talking about the movies” instead of “about movies”; “I came to Italy to change the course” instead of “to change course”), but reading Elio Vittorini I learn that you say
queste sono fandonie
(those are lies). Thanks to an advertising poster on the street, I learn that
il
piacere non ha limiti
(pleasure has no limits).

By the way: I'm still not very sure about the difference between
limite
and
limitazione, funzione
and
funzionamento, modifica
and
modificazione
(limit, function, change). Certain words that resemble each other torment me:
schiacciare
(crush) and
scacciare
(expel),
spiccare
(stand out) and
spicciare
(get something done quickly),
fioco
(weak) and
fiocco
(bow),
crocchio
(small group) and
crocicchio
(crossroads). I still mix up
già
(already) and
appena
(just).

Sometimes I hesitate when I compare two things, and so my notebook is full of sentences like
Di questo romanzo mi piace
più
la prima parte
della
seconda. Parlo l'inglese
meglio dell
'italiano. Preferisco Roma
a
New York. Piove
più
a Londra
che
a Palermo
(I like the first part of this novel more than the second part. I speak English better than Italian. I prefer Rome to New York. It rains more in London than in Palermo).

I realize that it's impossible to know a foreign language perfectly. For good reason, what confuses me most in Italian is when to use the imperfect and when the simple past. It should be fairly straightforward, but somehow, for me, it isn't. When I have to choose between them, I don't know which is right. I see the fork in the road and I slow down, feeling that I am about to come to a halt. I am filled with doubt; I panic. I don't understand the difference instinctively. It's as if I had a kind of temporal myopia.

Only in Rome, when I start speaking Italian every day, do I become aware of this problem. Listening to my friends, telling my Italian teacher something, I notice it. I say
c'è stato scritto
(there has been written) when one should say
c'era scritto
(there was written). I say,
era difficile
(it was difficult) when one should say
è stato difficile
(it has been difficult). I am confused above all by
era
(it was) and
è stato
(it has been)—two faces of the verb
essere
(to be), a verb that is fundamental. In Rome, for almost a year, my confusion torments me.

To help, my teacher provides some images: the background with respect to the main action. The frame with respect to the picture. A curving line rather than a straight one. A situation rather than a fact.

One says,
la chiave era sul tavolo,
the key was on the table. In this case a curving line, a situation. And yet to me it also seems a fact, the fact that the key was on the table.

One says,
siamo stati bene,
we have been comfortable. Here we have the straight line, a condition that savors of conclusiveness. And yet to me it also seems a situation.