On the New Translation of Maurizio Serra’s ‘Malaparte: A Biography’
There’s a passage in Curzio Malaparte’s Diary of a Foreigner in Paris which, for all of its contradictions, helps explain the lingering fascination with Malaparte’s work. While there’s something inherently fraught in giving Malaparte the first word, it’s also useful to establish him as an edifice of sorts. Whether that edifice will be torn down or defaced in the words to come remains to be seen.
The year is 1948. Malaparte, born Kurt Erich Suckert, is living in Paris. He is addressing criticism he’s received since arriving in France after the end of World War II; it turns out some people he once considered friends and colleagues think ill of him for his ties to Benito Mussolini and Italian fascism …
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