My ever-so-imaginative Facebook feed today presented me with the following picture, made by the famous Italian illustrator Roberto Innocenti for a 1988 edition of Carlo Collodi’s Pinocchio. 

After Pinocchio refuses to take his medicine because it is too bitter, la fata turchina (The Blue Fairy) at first tries to “sweeten the pill” by giving him a bit of sugar, but then - realizing that Pinocchio is too stubborn to be swayed - opts instead for a bit of tough love, and shows him what will happen if he doesn’t drink it; a funeral procession walks in the room, with four dark rabbits carrying a little (empty) casket meant for the recalcitrant and soon-to-be-dead puppet. After this rather graphic warning, Pinocchio immediately gulps the medicine down (and who wouldn’t!) In this picture, Innocenti decides to emphasize the grim nature of the scene by dressing the fairy in black, as if she was already in mourning for Pinocchio; he also shows her in the act of leaving the room (or pretending to leave, at least) to let the undertakers do their job. 

In Collodi’s time, death was a constant presence in the life of both children and adults. In a tiny, remote village like the one where Pinocchio’s father/maker lived, the doctor (if there was one) often doubled as a barber (cerusico) and drugs came in short supply, just like all other basic necessities. Water had to be drawn from a public basin that was sometimes very far from one’s home; food was scarce, especially in the winter, and did not always provide all the necessary nutrients; the only source of heat was a fireplace, which required great quantities of costly fuel (either coal or wood) and released toxic fumes when not properly vented. My great-grandfather lived in such a place, Bassiano, a little mountain village overlooking the Pontine marshes; he was educated and relatively well off, managed the post office and (later) the pharmacy, conducted the town’s band and played the organ in the main church. Still, his daughter in law (my grandmother) died giving birth to my aunt, the last of four children; he himself died of a botched surgery in Rome. Every family in Bassiano, rich or poor, has similar stories to tell. 

Those were the years of mass emigration, when rural communities lost thousands of members as they went looking for better fortune, often heading toward South or North America. They had to deal with racism and blatant discrimination, they were arrested, beaten, sometimes lynched. Through hard work they slowly gained respect and trust, and their newly-formed communities began to thrive. They sent money home, the word spread, and more people decided to leave Italy. Between 1880 and 1914, as many as 14 million people left Italy in search of a better life. It was the first wave of what is today known as the Italian Diaspora… But I digress. Let’s just say that life in post-unification Italy was hard, miserably hard, which is why so many decided to leave. It is against this backdrop of socio-economic collapse that some Italian writers chose to set their stories, and Collodi was one of them. Unlike the authors belonging to the literary current known as Verismo, however, Collodi used humor to make that harsh reality a bit more palatable, without hiding it completely. Pinocchio’s hunger is all too real and painful, but when he tries to fry an old egg (in water, for lack of butter and oil) a chick bursts out, thanks him politely, and flies out of the window; the hunger remains, but one cannot help but smile at such a comical outcome. 

In Pinocchio, The fantastic components are firmly anchored to harsh reality; it is not an escapist fantasy, because the readers (and the characters) are constantly reminded of their misery. Pinocchio himself is harshly punished when he tries to escape the societal constraints to join his friend Lucignolo in Toyland (Il paese dei balocchi): they are both turned into donkeys and forced to perform back-breaking tasks. Pinocchio is eventually able to get his freedom (and his quasi-human shape) back, but Lucignolo is literally worked to death, and later expires in Pinocchio’s arms. The brutality of child labor was another sad reality in Collodi’s world.  

Despite its heavily moralistic content, which was a common feature in children stories at the time, Pinocchio soared above the rest because of Collodi’s vivid imagination and sense of humor, conveyed in a narrative style that never feels derivative or pedantic. There are, of course, multiple references to other works and literary tropes, from the story of Jonah and the whale to the 18th-century “automaton” theme, but mostly Pinocchio is a coming-of-age novel, an allegory of the human condition in its development from pure instinct to knowledge and morals. For all its fantastic content, the story is also able to perfectly encapsulate the hardship of living in a tiny Italian village in the 19th century, with no money and no work, always at risk of starving, forced to come up with endless stratagems just to survive another day. 

Most American kids know Pinocchio’s adventures (and misadventures) from the animated version made by Walt Disney in 1940. The movie, however, is vastly different from the Italian original. One example is the portrayal of the “bad” puppeteer, Mangiafoco (which means “Fire Eater”), who is renamed “Stromboli” and charged with racist stereotypes. It is a shame, because the book character is much more nuanced and complex than its flattened representation on screen. Instead of being obsessed with money, Mangiafoco (despite his frightful appearance) turns out to be very generous and compassionate; in the end he frees Pinocchio and gives him five gold coins to bring to his father, Geppetto. Because of that money, Pinocchio is later conned by the Cat and the Fox (il gatto e la volpe), attacked and left for dead hanging from a tree. This, by the way, is how the author originally wanted his story to end! He published La storia di un burattino (The Story of a Puppet) in several episodes on the children section of a popular Italian newspaper, Il Fanfulla, apparently to pay for his gambling debts. His young readers wouldn’t accept such a grim ending, however, so he had to keep writing until “Pinocchio” had become a proper novel, published in 1883… And the rest is history. 

There were several attempts to turn Pinocchio into an opera, but none were truly successful. I remember fondly the soundtrack of the TV series “Le avventure di Pinocchio,” directed by Luigi Comencini and released (in six episodes) in 1972. The show was hugely successful, also thanks to a stellar cast that included Nino Manfredi and Gina Lollobrigida, and I strongly recommend it as a more authentic version of Collodi’s story compared to Disney’s watered-down treatment. Ciao!