Invisible Cities

You past adolescence and enter the world of adult literature. At first, you read anything and everything that found its way to your hands; then, slowly you begin discovering your own, unique literary taste, and you become selective. The more you read, the more selective you become. Your list of favorite authors and genres grows; you find literary voices that speak directly to your soul. By now, you have reached mid age, and you have over two decades of serious reading under your belt. Any new book that you open, any new author that you discover is judged against your favorites, against the voices that stimulated your mind over the years. Words and phrases are judged against those that provided comfort when you felt down; ideas and executions are compared against the benchmarks established over the years. You think you know what you like; you think you know what to expect. Well, perhaps you do. New books come along, and some attempt to quietly sneak in to your consciousness, while others attempt to shatter your world. Most, if not all, pale with your favorites, do not fit with your ideas, or leave you cold. Then, one day, you come across a gently used book. It's small, it looks interesting, and you buy it. That book manages to get under your skin in a very inconspicuous way, without you even noticing. Such was my encounter with Invisible Cities. My first Italo Calvino. He arrived on the heels of Bolaño, Borges, Ungar, and Girondo. Good company, you might say. I say no. Bolaño left me lukewarm—I was expecting more. Borges blew my mind—but only temporarily—he is amazing, but very systematic. Ungar was great—while reading him. Girondo was thought-provoking—entertaining but not mind-altering. Calvino managed to deliver where all of the above failed. He did not force his way to me, he came unsuspected, veiled in beautiful prose. All of the aforementioned authors wrote fine literature, amazing actually. Yet, they were all "in your face" at times. Calvino is like a spy who sneaks in under the cover of darkness. And here comes the strangest part: I haven't even noticed. To be honest, I cannot quite describe what kind of book is Invisible Cities. At first, I thought I knew. Then I thought I did not know, then I thought I knew again, and, in the end, I was reminded that I did not know. The book is simply beautiful. It is irrelevant and relevant at the same time, pointless and necessary at other times, while remaining non-contradictory. Does this make sense? I thought so. To me, Invisible Cities is not a single book, but three separate books. The first one is a wonderful study of humanity. These are the cities that reflect human behavior, the cities that serve as metaphor for greed, anger, vanity, et cetera. The second book is a book of cautionary tales. These are the cities that tell a story, a story of what will happen if we, as humans, do not change our ways. The third book is a book of philosophy. These are the cities as metaphors for mortality, actions and consequences, continuity, faith... To this book also belong the conversations between Marco Polo and Kublai Khan, for these are truly philosophical. Then again, I am probably wrong on all counts. One thing is certain, and that is the undeniable truth that Italo Calvino was an amazing writer. His prose is magical. So now, after more than two decades of reading what I consider to be quality literature, I have to shuffle my mental shelf and make room for Calvino, right next to my all-time favorites where he belongs.

This lyrical volume was recommended to me by a Taiwanese friend who is an urban planner. I am grateful, as Invisible Cities is a sublime journey one does not soon forget. Author Italo Calvino relates a series of imagined conversations between the emperor Kublai Kahn and his guest Marco Polo. The emperor has asked to hear about cities the famed traveller has passed through. Each intervening chapter is devoted to a tour of a single city. The emperor already knows not to take his guest’s descriptions too literally. Even so, readers are bound to discover—in these lyrical tours of Octavia, Baucis, Esmeralda, Thekla, Clarice, Despina, Raissa and other cities that defy cartography—more than one scene that feels hauntingly familiar. Calvino invites us to consider the many ways humans live and work together, live off and trade for the resources they need, respond to space and to change, and craft their stories for newcomers and future generations. These travel vignettes gather power as the narrator proceeds. For each community there is the city that exists, the city as it is imagined, and cities in the past that bore the same name in the same spot. The stories accumulate as Kublai Kahn and Marco Polo indulge in a chess game, and the monarch ponders the impossibility of his ever truly knowing all that his own realm contains. Invisible Cities, a book beautifully imagined and written, has now been elegantly formatted for e-book readers. Don’t hesitate. Take the journey.

This short book, more than anything else, is about the power that words have to evoke a setting, utterly and completely. The cities that Marco Polo describes do not exist, but gosh, you wish they did. This is where Calvino's genius for description, for using just the right word to get across exactly what he wants the reader to take away, really comes through. I wish I could read Italian because I can't help feeling that something must have been lost in translation. This is not because I read a bad translation - I didn't, the language was beautiful - but because I feel like each word was chosen with such care that I would like to read the book in Calvino's chosen language. In a way, I felt like each chapter was a poem. They were all so short - between two and three pages long - and they evoked such a sense of nostalgia for places that do not even exist, and with such a succinct use of words - that they felt very poem-like to me. I read this while traveling, which I think was ideal. As you walk around unfamiliar places, I think you notice things that the locals ignore or don't think about any more, and you are very aware of how the city feels and what its personality is. Calvino takes that feeling to an extreme by making his cities as magical as possible so that you have a sense not just of the physical attributes of the city, but the more nebulous aspects, too - the atmosphere and vibe that are so hard to describe to other people. And each chapter is such a delight. I don't want to ruin the experience of reading something so different for you, but I do want you to get a sense of what is waiting for you. There's one city that exists on a spiderweb. One that is built in men's dreams of chasing a woman. One that has only the plumbing but none of the buildings. One that is built entirely on massive stilts. So many inventive and creative places to visit! This was a different, completely new, kind of treat, and I think if you go into the book knowing that it really is just a series of vignettes that describe cities you wish truly were in our world, then you would really enjoy it. The language is beautiful, and the cities - I wish there were accompanying illustrations for each chapter!

This is the best - in my view - of all his amazing books - every emotion at one time he evokes as he describes humanity, really, the human experience, through descriptions of cities beneath cities. The conclusion is especially encouraging, I think: The Great Khan’s atlas contains also the maps of the promised lands visited in thought but not yet discovered or founded: New Atlantis, Utopia, the City of the Sun, Oceana, Tamoe, New Harmony, New Lanark, Icaria. Kublai asked Marco: “You, who go about exploring and who see signs, can tell me toward which of these futures the favoring winds are driving us.” “ Marco replied: “For these ports I could not draw a route on the map or set a date for the landing. At times all I need is a brief glimpse, an opening in the midst of an incongruous landscape, a glint of lights in the fog, the dialogue of two passersby meeting in the crowd, and I think that, setting out from there, I will put together, piece by piece, the perfect city, made of fragments mixed with the rest, of instants separated by intervals, of signals one sends out, not knowing who receives them. If I tell you that the city toward which my journey tends is discontinuous in space and time, now scattered, now more condensed, you must not believe the search for it can stop. Perhaps while we speak, it is rising, scattered, within the confines of your empire; you can hunt for it, but only in the way I have said.” Already the Great Khan was leafing through his atlas, over the maps of the cities that menace in nightmares and maledictions: Enoch, Babylon, Yahooland, Butua, Brave New World. He said: “It is all useless, if the last landing place can only be the infernal city, and it is there that, in ever-narrowing circles, the current is drawing us.” And Polo said: “The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognise who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.”

Italo Calvino’s INVISIBLE CITIES is phantasmagorical, fantastical, and ultimately a very puzzling read. Marco Polo and Kublai Khan embark on a dense, layered discussion about the cities within Kublai’s sclerotic empire that Polo has visited. What follows is one of the strangest and loftiest experiences I’ve had with fiction. Aside from the Khan/Polo relationship, there is no plot in any normal sense. It’s more of a prose poem than anything. INVISIBLE CITIES is a challenging experience. Each very short “story” describes a fictive city and its inhabitants. Symbolism and metaphor dovetail with themes of linguistics, semiotics, and nearly everything that cities represent and breed. While a few of the cities stuck with me, I never felt my inner world rearranged the way I wanted it to be. I used the word puzzling at the beginning of this review, and I feel that’s the operative word when it comes to INVISIBLE CITIES: everything feels like a puzzle. Some of the puzzles I could solve, others left me cold and I moved on. The writing is excellent - the opening passage describing the state of Kublai’s empire is vibrant and evocative. This is a book I’ll likely return to again as I seek out meaning that was lost during my first reading. [I have a sneaking suspicion this book would earn five stars and beyond if it were paired with some cannabis. It’s that kind of book. I’d finish a story and then, in the back of my head, I’d hear Jeff Spicoli cry out “Whoa! Dude!” Please note, I am not a physician, so I’m not recommending this combination of Italian fabulist literature and psychotropic medication, but I do think it should be stated…]

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino is a stunningly imaginative and poetic work that takes readers on a journey through a series of fantastical cities. The book's narrator, Marco Polo, describes each city in detail to the emperor Kublai Khan, weaving together a tapestry of stories and images that are at once surreal and deeply moving. The cities themselves are not just physical places, but also representations of the human imagination and our endless quest for beauty and meaning. Calvino's prose is lyrical and evocative, painting vivid pictures of each city and its inhabitants. He plays with language and structure, experimenting with form to create a dreamlike atmosphere that is both disorienting and exhilarating. The book is also full of philosophical musings on the nature of reality, memory, and the human condition, making it a rich and rewarding read for those who enjoy thought-provoking literature. Overall, Invisible Cities is a masterpiece of modern fiction that transports readers to a world of wonder and possibility. It is a testament to the power of the imagination and a reminder that the world is a place of infinite potential. Pros: Beautiful and poetic prose Imaginative and surreal imagery Philosophically rich and thought-provoking Cons: May be too abstract or experimental for some readers

Ostensibly, this book is a long conversation between Kublai Khan and Marco Polo, with Marco Polo describing 55 different cities, interspersed with short connecting dialogs between the Khan and Polo. And yet, it is much more than that. As the city descriptions go on, the cities become more fanciful, and, at the same time, more modern. It is obvious Polo has never seen many of the cities he describes, usually because they don't exist yet, as is evidenced by his descriptions of such things as skyscrapers, cable cars, radar antennae, munitions factories and the like. Besides the occasional anachronistic object, what makes this book great is the fabulous descriptions of each city, be they fanciful or mundane. The writing is so eloquent that the reader can envision each city with ease, and this is just one of the deeper subjects of the book - an examination of the meaning of existence. Do the cities described actually exist in the world the book is set in, or do the cities exist because Polo is describing them, or will they exist because he is imagining them, or do they exist because we, the readers, can see them so clearly in our mind's eye? Over and above the descriptions of the cities, there is, hovering over the entire proceedings, a certain mathematical exactness or pattern to the presentation of the cities and the structure of the novel itself, but I will leave it to each individual reader to discover that on their own. And even if the reader doesn't care to delve into the deeper meanings hidden away in this fabulous book, it can still be enjoyed as a wonderful set of descriptive narratives that bring to life cities both real and imagined. I highly recommend this book, and expect to read it again and again.

Describing Invisible Cities is difficult as it doesn't really have much of a plot or characters. The novel consists of portrayals of a series of disconnected scenes, a sort of travel journal but without characters or actions. The narrative is mostly from Marco Polo's point of view, with some third person narration involving Polo's sole audience Kublai Khan in a hypothetical series of meetings having taken place centuries ago. Nearly every scene describes a city that Polo visited, and the cities are all as different from each other as Jekyll and Hyde are. The main appreciation I gained of Calvino while reading this was of his profound imagination in creating these settings as well as of his ability to convey a great deal of information about each unique setting in only two or three pages. You could almost say he paints scenes rather than simply describes them. This type of passive novel isn't for everyone and truth be told, I probably wouldn't have been much of a fan myself if it'd been much longer than the 165 pages it is. Kind of like visiting a museum for a few hours: At some point I've had my fill and now want to go see or do something involving a bit more activity!

When I read this as a child, I was expecting something along the lines of a book of fantastical lore, so it left me feeling rather confused in a nice way - there was something enigmatic about each 'city' that I couldn't pin down. Returning to this book now as an adult, the stories have lost the engimatic quality but in its place I'm surprised by how relatable and resonating they are! And I finally understand what the first stage of the book was getting at now! This is an enchanting book, but it will be enchanting for different reasons depending on where you are in your life. I'll probably read it again in a few years' time and see if it's once again a different experience.

Una fuente de inspiración para filósofos y arquitectos en ese periodo en el que nuestras mentes están cargadas de imagnacion

My first Calvino read, has inspired me to read more by him. Kubla Khan, the emperor and Marco Polo, the explorer converse about fictitious cities, bringing into play, a multitude of observations, human experience entails. The book is a dialogue, debate, observation, discourse, fantasy. Keeping it simple, Calvino doesn't overwhelm with treatises, letting the reader infer. A city is more than a geographical point. The way we identify with it is not just about its layout and sights. Connected intangibles, like inspiration to think, be a certain way, how they make one feel, the same point represents totally diverse meanings to each individual. "You return from lands equally distant and you can tell me only the thoughts that come to a man who sits on his doorstep at evening to enjoy the cool air. What is the use, then, of all your travelling?" My favourite lines from the book - "In Ersilia, to establish the relationships that sustain the city's life, the inhabitants stretch strings from the corners of the houses, white or black or gray or black and white according to whether they mark a relationship of blood, of trade, authority, agency. When the strings become so numerous that you can no longer pass among them, the inhabitants leave, the houses are dismantled, only the strings and their supports remain." Beautiful concept with the threads panning out, each signifying a connection, beginning afresh, when the connections become overwhelming. "Baucis residents.. contemplating with fascination their own absence." This was the city where the residents didn't establish contact with the land because of the respect they had for it. Fascinating perspective on what the earth would be if humans were removed from the equation. "You reach a moment in life when among the people you've known, the dead outnumber the living. And the mind refuses to accept more faces, more expressions on every new face you encounter, it prints the old forms, for each one it finds the most suitable mask." At a certain stage in life, one has established so many acquaintances, that henceforth, each person brings another to mind. Akin to extensive travelling, evoking in one destination, reminisces about another. Seeing our cities transform at a dizzying pace, the nostalgia for what was, the itch to travel and see more - at times, returning deflated, because a city wasn't what one expected it to be or exalted because it was beyond expectations, there's a lot one can identify with.

Good

Great read, interesting, fun, and fantastical.