Subverting stereotypes of aging in Elena Gianini Belotti's Adagio un poco mosso.

Ross, Silvia

Feminists who have studied aging generally agree that the combination of sexism and ageism makes getting older an issue that affects women as a group acutely. Old women face the stigmas that our society foists upon them: they are infantilized, frequently depicted as lacking in judgment, as physically infirm, weak, forgetful, or even comical, l These cliches, along with the realities of social exclusion and financial hardship, often conspire to render old women powerless. In response to this general tendency, some recent Anglo-American feminist writing has attempted to question these derogatory images; one Italian writer who has addressed this issue in her essays and works of fiction is Elena Gianini Belotti, whose commitment to critiquing patriarchal oppression of women spans her entire career, from her essay "Dalla parte delle bambine" of 1973, to her novel of 2003 entitled Prima della quiete. Storia di Italia Donati. In her representation of old women in the stories of her 1993 collection, Adagio un poco mosso, Gianini Belotti forces the reader to interrogate his or her own preexisting notions about women and aging.

In its most ominous guise, the denigration of old women leads to a divide between the young and the old, to a fear of aging and a disgust for the elderly. (2) The stereotype of the hag, crone, or witch is widely diffused in culture at all levels and constitutes the iconic embodiment of patriarchal society's aversion to the old woman: the mature woman is no longer of reproductive use yet, because of her accrued experience, she could constitute a menace to male authority. (3) Some feminists have proposed a re-appropriation of the image of the crone as a source of power, urging old women to revel in the persona of the sorceress and her associations that representa threat to patriarchy (for example, Germaine Greer in The Change: Women, Aging and the Menopause, or Cixous and Clement in The Newly Bom Woman).

More interestingly, and perhaps even more constructively, the portrayal of aging as a negative phenomenon, as inevitable decline, has in the last two decades been countered by such critical studies as those by Barbara Macdonald in Look Me in the Eye: Old Women, Aging and Ageism (1983), by Betty Friedan in Fountain of Age (1993), and most recently by Margaret Morganroth Gullette in Aged by Culture (2004). These theorists argue for an outlook on aging that does not dwell on its presumed negative aspects (not all the elderly, for example, experience a degeneration of physical and mental health and, contrary to popular belief the majority of old people do not end up in nursing homes). Instead, they posit old age as a phase of life which affects people differently and one that can be viewed favorably, as a stage of growth rather than deterioration and, moreover, as a time with which women are better equipped to cope than men (such as, for example, through the development of women's social networks or through female friendships). (4)

Italian women writers have also contributed to portraying older women in a more positive light. (5) Gianini Belotti's first work to address the issue of women and aging is her book-length essay Amore e pregiudizio. Il tabu dell'eta nei rapporti sentimentali (1988), which highlights the taboos facing older women in relationships with younger men. Her fiction, on the other hand, provides in some ways an even more incisive and imaginative critique of standard notions of femininity and aging. Gianini Belotti's particularly engaging and informed contribution to putting older women protagonists on the stage begins with her first novel, Il fiore dell'ibisco (1985), which narrates the shortlived relationship between an older woman and the younger man whose nanny she had been many years before. Her later novel Apri le porte all'alba (1999) tells the story of sixty-three-year-old Doris in present-day Rome, who is concerned for her solitary father, contends with the degradation of the environment, has a relationship with a man seven years her junior, and finds support in her circle of women friends and in Margarida, the young Cape Verdean who looks after her father.

The seven stories in Adagio un poco mosso--the text on which this analysis focuses--all feature old women, the gender that constitutes the larger proportion of the population of over-sixty-fivers, a trend due, not surprisingly, to women's greater longevity. Virtually all of Gianini Belotti's old women (with the exception of one) are single, divorced, or widowed, reflecting the marital status of what is a significant segment of the female population over sixty-five. This is true of Western society generally speaking, but also in the case of Italy itself, where an examination of statistics provided by ISTAT shows that over half of women between the ages of sixty-five and ninety are widowed, divorced, or single. (6) This situation derives from the fact that a high proportion of older women find themselves widowed in their old age, since women live on average longer than men, and men tend to marry younger women.

One of the greatest difficulties the elderly are contending with today is the stereotypes about aging that are used to label them, women especially. Sara Arber and Jay Ginn have pointed out the detrimental effects of stereotyping the elderly: Stereotypes [...] function as propaganda, creating and reinforcing negative attitudes towards a group. More than this, the ideological message of the stereotype tends to be learned (internalized) by the oppressed group, contributing to the social control of its members [...]. In striving to distance themselves from the negative image portrayed, people are pressured into culturally prescribed behaviours, and may themselves contribute to the social disapproval of others who appear to fit the stereotype. Stereotypes thus have a prescriptive function, warning against socially unacceptable behaviour [...] and a political function in legitimizing socially created disadvantages. The stereotyping of elderly people profoundly affects the way they are perceived and consequently treated, both at the societal level and as individuais in everyday interactions. Demeaning and patronizing attitudes can affect the view which elderly people have of themselves; although they often resist and reject the negative image of old age, it is nevertheless hurtful. (7)

Arber and Ginn's particularly cogent and informative study explores how stereotypes of old women (in such negative images as the hag, for instance) have historically relegated them to subordinate roles.8

Adagio un poco mosso undermines stereotypes of older women in inventive ways. Not only do the female characters who appear in these stories voice, directly or indirectly, ideas that challenge set notions of behavior for old women, but frequently they also act in a manner that defies normative social patterns of the elderly; as De Federicis puts it, the protagonists "rovesciano le aspettative ragionevoli." (9) Each of the seven stories in the collection presents, to a greater or lesser extent, a subversion of stereotypes of women and aging and, as De Federicis points out, "anche il racconto punta sulla tecnica del rovesciamento, catturando le attese del lettore e protraendole fino a una conclusione che spesso e aperta, a sorpresa." (10) This study examines just how the characters depicted in Gianini Belotti's collection of short stories undermine stereotypes of old women and highlight some of the writer's narrative strategies used to surprise readers and encourage them to question their expectations.

"Esercizio a quattro mani" opens the collection and primarily consists of an old woman's observations while queuing in her local bank. Narrated in the first person, the unnamed old woman begins by explaining her frustration at attempting to enter the bank but encountering difficulty with the mechanical alarm system that repeatedly rejects her handbag. Once inside, she relates her thoughts as she stares at a bank teller, fascinated by his hands and their movements. While the narrator-character denies that her scopophilia could be construed as sexual in nature (9-10) it becomes clear that she views the young man as an object of desire: Ho provato all'improvviso l'impulso fortissimo di allungare una mano e percorrere con la punta dell'indice, delicatamente, l'interno della sua, seguendone i solchi, risalendo verso le dita, esplorando i recessi morbidi tra un dito e l'altro, saggiando la cedevolezza dei polpastrelli. Ho sentito una vampata di calore sulla faccia, dovevo essere arrossita. Mi e sfuggito anche un sospiro, ma nessuno deve averci fatto caso, almeno spero: un sospiro e il minimo che possa sfuggire durante un'attesa cosi lunga a uno sportello. (14)

Clearly the narrator is viewing the young man's body erotically, an attitude confirmed by her own reaction: Quel sospiro l'ho esalato involontariamente nel momento in cui ho pensato, con una strizzata alla bocca dello stomaco, che ormai da decenni le mie mani non accarezzavano un uomo. All'improvviso mi ha invaso una gran malinconia. (14)

The narrator then reflects on the plight of old women's categorization as asexual or sexually invisible beings at best, and, at worst, as undesirable: I desideri resistono intatti al trascorrere degli anni, nonostante siano destinati a restare insoddisfatti. Alla crudelta della vecchiaia in se, si aggiunge quella della rarefazione progressiva dei contatti: nessuno ti tocca piu, ne ti abbraccia o accarezza, nessuno vuole piu essere toccato, abbracciato, accarezzato da una vecchia signora come me. (14)

The narrator then explains her strategy for compensating for the lack of physical affection: Non mi sono arresa per questo, tutt'altro, ho escogitato compensazioni tutte mie al deserto dei sensi e dei sentimenti: se nella realta non mi succede piu nulla, nessuno puo togliermi l'immaginazione. Perlustro con fervore e accanimento l'inesistente, invento, creo, sogno, fantastico, divago, forse deliro. Ma tutto diventa possibile e accessibile. Talvolta ne traggo gioia, talvolta abissi di malinconia. (14-15).

By voicing her desire this old woman denies her classification as asexual, a typical categorization of old women, and one that Gianini Belotti herself has had occasion to criticize in both her own writing as well as in ah interview. (11)

The narrator undermines the stereotype about the asexuality of old women not only by verbalizing her desire, but also by explaining her tactic of reversing the vacuum of physical contact that surrounds her by using her imagination. Her fantasy and creative capabilities act as a kind of sublimation for her neglect as a sexual being. In fact, it is precisely her inventiveness, along with her sharp observational skills, that ultimately are proven correct by the final lines of the story. While carefully scrutinizing the bank teller's hands earlier, she comes to the conclusion that he bites his nails and smokes, and she fabricates a mental image of his life while watching him. After leaving the bank, she later sees him in the nearby bar: "Beveva un caffe, fumava una sigaretta e nelle pause si rosicchiava le unghie della mano sinistra" (16). The story's conclusion thus urges the reader to consider the old woman narrator's creative conjectures as accurate, and consequently to see her as an acute assessor of human behavior, and not as a weak, little old lady who struggles with modern technology, the persona that might initially confirm one's views about the elderly in the story's opening paragraphs.

The title and first few sentences of the second story, "Un carattere sensibile," could induce the reader to think that the first-person narrative voice is female, given the stereotypical assumptions about "sensitivity" being primarily a feminine quality: Devo ammetterlo: ho un temperamento ansioso, ogni minima contrarieta mi angustia, pericoli e minacce mi sovrastano costantemente e piu mi ripeto che sono frutto della mia immaginazione sovreccitata, piu essi s'ingigantiscono fino a ridurmi insonne per l'angoscia. (17)

After a few lines, it transpires that the speaker is a middle-aged man who purports to be justifying bis worries and fears for his aging mother and to be explaining why he has reached a certain decision concerning her. However, by filling in the gaps--according to the technique described by Iser(12)--the reader soon realizes that the over-anxious son, Ottavio, rather than showing solicitous affection for and taking care of his mother, has in fact been responsible for confining her to a nursing home against her wishes. This, despite the fact that she had been living autonomously in her own house, engaged in various activities and, after the death of her husband, seemed more independent than when she was married. Elisabetta, Ottavio's ex-wife, warns him of the dangers of moving his mother away from her familiar environment: sosteneva che andava lasciata a casa sua, con le sue abitudini, i suoi ritmi, le sue cose, i suoi spazi, i suoi ricordi, le sue occupazioni [...] "Sradicare un anziano dal suo ambiente," proclamava, "significa estraniarlo da se stesso" [...]. Sosteneva che l'autonomia della mamma andava salvaguardata anche acosto di stare in ansia noi. [...] Sentenziava che si doveva rispettare la volonta di lei di vivere in liberta e indipendenza, senza infliggerle l'umiliazione di sentirsi un peso per gli altri. (24)

The narrator himself then reveals that his ex-wife and his mother have maintained a close relationship and resemble each other in many ways; thus Elisabetta's words, because of her affinity with her ex-mother-in-law, gain further validity in the reader's eyes, in her function as a voice for Ottavio's mother. Elisabetta's humane protestations regarding her ex-husband's treatment of his mother cause us to question his reliability as a narrator--to adopt Booth's phrase--to the extent that we as readers mistrust his point of view in relation to his mother's situation and doubt the motivations governing his actions. (13)

Despite his mother's objections (and Elisabetta's words of caution), Ottavio insists on moving her to an old people's home; eventually she stops putting up resistance and acquiesces through passive silence. Confined to the institution, Ottavio's mother withdraws from him, and their conversation becomes more and more strained, symptomatic of the breakdown in communication between them. Repeatedly the narrator describes his mother in terms of her silence and distance; he claims that she is "sorda a ogni mia argomentazione" (27), that she is "muta" (27), and "assente" (27) and at one point he even wonders if she is going deaf (30).

The tragi-comic twist in the story occurs when one day Ottavio visits his mother and she fails to recognize him, maintaining that she has no son, that she was never even married. When Ottavio calls in Suor Carmela who works in the nursing home, his mother continues not to recognize him, yet the nun assures him that she had been perfectly lucid just before. Ottavio then leaves: Ho salutato la mamma dandole del lei, come se fosse una signora qualunque. Mentre mi allontanavo, mi sono girato a guardarla: mi osservava andar via con un accenno di sorriso sulla bocca. Forse mi ha dato di volta il cervello, ma mi e parso un sorrisetto maligno, beffardo, come se assaporasse un malevolo trionfo. Mi sono arrovellato per trovargli un senso, nel tragitto di ritorno, senza riuscirvi. (33)

The story concludes with Ottavio's realization that he was the only person whom his mother did not recognize, and that she had addressed Suor Carmela by name twice. The reader is easily able to infer that Ottavio's mother has turned the tables on him, failing to recognize him, both literally and figuratively, as her son, and in a sense rejecting her role as mother. By capitalizing on the stereotype of the mentally infirm old woman and turning it around to her own advantage, his mother has managed to evade her son's stifling control. What emerges then is a portrait not so much of a vindictive crone, but rather of an incarcerated old woman, deprived of a voice by her own son; for this reason she resorts to the only means left to her: faking senility. This particular story provides an incisive critique of the relegation of the elderly to nursing homes and the decline associated with their segregation from society. Furthermore, it calls into question the common assumption that family members are best able to care for and make decisions for the elderly, one that sociologists have also interrogated. (14)

The two stories that follow, "Oratorio di Natale" and "Stenodattilo

primo impiego," both feature old women as protagonists but their subversion of stereotypical notions of aging is less blatant than in the others and consequently are of less relevance to this study; for this reason they will only be touched on briefly. "Oratorio di Natale" consists of a one-sided dialogue, where the speaker, an older woman who addresses her listener with the "tu" form, describes what her life was like with her husband and how she lives now, after his death. The portrait of her spouse that emerges--again by reading between the lines--is one of an egotistical, sexist, and domineering husband, and the reader learns of the ways in which he had tried to control his wife. Despite this, she did cling to some of her independence, by continuing to work and by obtaining her driver's license, activities both of which he disapproved. By the end of the story, we are left to imagine that her listening to music again for the first time (another activity that met with her husband's displeasure) is a sign that she may in some way be moving toward asserting her independence.

"Stenodattilo primo impiego," on the other hand, is the longest piece in the text and concerns issues quite different in many ways from those explored in the other stories, namely those of memory and the Holocaust, as well as sexual assault. The events are narrated in the third person by the elderly Anita who, through flashback, takes the reader back to an episode in her youth where she was exposed to the corruption of war criminals. Anita--like other old women in Gianini Belotti's stories--seems to be vindicated in the end in that she confronts her ghosts, but again this story's focus diverges somewhat from the questions examined in this essay. (15)

"Il giardino selvatico" is the next story to present an older woman who defies convention. Narrated in the third person, the point of view of Melania--a visitor to a small seaside resort--is privileged, and we follow her as she decides to rent the upper floor of a beach house with an abandoned garden. Eventually it transpires, after the death of her landlord, that he had forced his wife into a mental institution after she reacted with outrage on discovering a sexual liaison between him and the maid. Over twenty years have passed since then, and with her husband gone, the institutionalized woman is at long last free, since up until then according to Italian law she had needed marital consent in order to be released, despite not being clinically ill.

Soon after the old woman has moved back into the ground floor of her house, Melania listens to her piano playing, and reflects on the strength this woman has shown in the face of her unjust incarceration. (16) Not only do the old woman's keyboard skills represent her tenacity, but so do her ability and strength as a swimmer. Shortly after her re-appropriation of her former home, the old lady goes for a long swim in the sea and Melania watches her anxiously from the shore. On her retum, the two strike up a conversation, and the old woman comments on her bathing routine: "Non ho piu il fiato di allora, e naturale, gli anni sono passati e perdi piu sono fuori esercizio. Ma migliorero presto, glielo garantisco. Allora nuotavo per quattro chilometri ogni mattina, sa?" Rise di nuovo, strizzo le palpebre, ammicco, con un lampo d'ironia nello sguardo. "Tutto e successo proprio al ritomo da una lunga nuotata, lo ha saputo? Una nuotata meno lunga del solito, sfortunatamente." Rise. "Formidabile," penso Melania sbalordita, stava ridendo di se stessa. Non attese risposta, si stese sulla sabbia, chiuse gli occhi. Di li a poco aggiunse, ridacchiando: "Una nuotata fatale, si puo ben dire. Non trova?" (114)

The wronged old woman displays a marked sense of self, along with a sense of humor, qualities that--the writer seems to suggest--contributed to her surviving her ordeal. Her frank words and laughter seem surprising, given the trauma she underwent, and are probably not the reaction that most readers would anticipate, especially of an aged woman.

After these comments the bather closes her eyes and naps on the beach, while Melania considers the old woman's resilience: Era rasserenante starsene allungata al sole a occhi chiusi, senza parlare, accanto a una vecchia signora che la vita aveva tanto ferocemente off eso, una vecchia signora saggia che vi riapprodava ingorda dopo tanta forzata assenza e, semplicemente, le impartiva una grandiosa lezione di coraggio. Si chiese come fossero state le albe, le mattine dei suoi risvegli la dentro, fra le alte mura bianche, per tanti anni, si chiese che cosa l'avesse sorretta perche non si perdesse. Chissa. C'era tutto il tempo per saperlo. (114-15)

Her courage serves as an example to Melania, and the story concludes with the old lady asking her if she would like to help her tidy up her garden that had remained untouched over the years of her seclusion, something Melania had desired to do from the start when she first rented the upstairs apartment, before the old woman's homecoming. Thus the story ends with a promise of friendship between the two women, not surprising given that female friendship comprises a frequent theme in Gianini Belotti's prose, and is a concept promoted by feminist theory. (17) The garden that will be renewed by the two women, moreover, acts as a symbol of the regeneration of the old woman after her imprisonment in the asylum. Thus, in "Il giardino selvatico," Gianini Belotti posits female friendship against a backdrop of patriarchal abuse and denounces the phenomenon of women's institutionalization against their will through the depiction of an old woman whose ability to survive exceeds expectation.

"La gita," the penultimate story of the collection, also emphasizes female solidarity and adopts the epistolary genre to examine a friendship between four women that has spanned several decades. By reading a series of letters from seventy-seven-year-old Caterina to her friend Edvige--who is away helping her granddaughter who is about to give birth--it emerges that their old friend Camilla, a world expert in Hellenistic culture, has suffered a severe stroke, is partially paralyzed and unable to speak, except to utter the occasional single word repeatedly. In her letters to Edvige, Caterina bemoans the fact that the stroke has rendered Camilla totally dependent, a bitter pill to swallow especially for a woman of such sharp intellect.

Throughout the early letters, Caterina alludes to a plan that she, Camilla, the recipient Edvige, and their fourth friend, Emilia, had agreed much earlier to carry out. Eventually it becomes clear that the four friends had made a pact to help each other die if it ever became necessary; thus the four women have constituted their own small Hemlock Society. Caterina emphasizes how their mutual friendship has been of the utmost importance to their lives, and that their bond is as strong as, if not stronger than, the ties within families: La nostra amicizia si e nutrita dei nostri desideri, dei nostri interessi, dei nostri progetti, si e vivificata delle nostre personali risorse: i nostri uomini si sono aggiunti alla gia solida costruzione del nostro legame, che ha vissuto di vita propria. [...] Siamo state piu che sorelle, perche le sorelle non si scelgono ma ti vengono assegnate dal caso [...] Noi invece ci siamo scelte, abbiamo camminato insieme e quando (presto) verra Fora di separarci, avverra un terribile strappo nelle viscere di ognuna, la dove ognuna e penetrata nell'altra e vi ha conficcato robustissime radici. (129)

The friendship between the four women--qualified as visceral and in

terms of arboreal roots (representing a kind of alternative family tree)--both pre-dates and supersedes their relationships with men. In fact, the women disregard the wishes of Angelo, Camilla's husband, who is nursing her full-time, when initially he is reluctant to let them take Camilla out for a "gita culturale."

It perhaps begins to dawn on the reader just what Camilla's friends are proposing when Caterina describes the scene where she and Emilia discuss their pact with their infirm friend: Emilia e io le abbiamo parlato, molto dolcemente, con tutto il nostro amore, le abbiamo assicurato che eravamo pronte ad aiutarla, le abbiamo ricordato il nostro patto, le abbiamo chiesto se intendeva servirsene e servirsi di noi, se ci aveva riflettuto, se si sentiva pronta. Lei ha annuito vigorosamente, con la testa, con il busto, con il braccio, persino battendo il piede sul pavimento. Ha ripetuto molte volte: "Si, si, si ... pronta, pronta ..." con un'intensita, una forza, una determinazione ... Non c'era possibilita di dubbio sulla sua comprensione di cio che le andavamo dicendo, ne della sua volonta. (124-25)

This insistence on the certainty of Camilla's consent for the plan allows Gianini Belotti to legitimize the actions of the women by confirming one of the basic criteria for voluntary euthanasia. John Harris, in The Value of Life, explains: Voluntary euthanasia occurs when that decision coincides with the individual's own wishes and he or she consciously approves of it, and of all aspects of its implementation. [...] Voluntary euthanasia [...] will never be wrong morally, although like any other human choice it might be illadvised. But so long as someone has genuinely ceased to value life, and prefers death to continued existence, then they are not morally wrong to take their own life and neither is anyone who assists them or who acts for them where they cannot act on their own behalf. (82-83)

According to Harris's parameters, then, the pact made by the four women cannot be deemed ethically wrong, given that Camilla's desire to die is made thoroughly clear. (18) This serves to elicit the reader's empathy for the friends who make what could be judged a controversial choice. Furthermore, the means used to bring about Camilla's passing could not really be considered criminal; Caterina and Emilia take Camilla out for a drive to a local abbey, have a rich meal together, and go to a local town festival. Due to Camilla's precarious condition, however, these activities are sufficient to provoke a second brain hemorrhage, this time fatal, the very same night.

The story closes with our learning of Camilla's death in Caterina's last letter, and in the same paragraph we find out that Edvige's great-granddaughter has just been born because Caterina asks her friend if the baby could be given Camilla as a second name. The story concludes within the trope of death and rebirth, but along a distinctly female inter-generational chain-of-being, reminiscent perhaps of the concept of "motherline" elucidated by some feminists, whereby knowledge and life experience are transferred down from one female relative to the next. (19) In addition, the old women in "La gita" again contradict standard patterns of behavior, in that they do not behave like mild-mannered old ladies, but actually plan and carry out their friend's assisted suicide.

The final story, "Di pattuglia," returns to the first-person narrative voice, this time of a young policewoman who has been called, along with her partner, to a supermarket in order to arrest a shoplifter. The furious manager leads the policewoman to the back room of the store where he has locked up the thief, and there she sees the culprit. Initially we are told that the base has received a phone call for the arrest of a "ladro," so to the policewoman's (and to the reader's) surprise, the supposed "criminal" turns out to be an old lady: Rattrappita su una sedia di metallo, seminascosta dalla mole ferrigna del bancone, c'era una microscopica vecchina che stringeva contro il petto, come uno scudo, una borsa piu grande di lei. Sono rimasta attonita a fissarla. Chissa perche non mi aspettavo una ladra, men che meno di eta cosi veneranda. (142)

The identity of the shoplifter is startling on two counts: because of her gender and her age.

The policewoman's description of the rather shabby, diminutive figure emphasizes her fragility, comparing her to a bird: Piu che minuta, era inconsistente, senza peso, un gracile uccellino appollaiato su un trespolo. Le spallucce spioventi, le braccia come ramoscelli rinsecchiti, la schiena ossuta e incurvata, la testa spiumata, il viso vizzo e smunto, la rendevano inerme a tal punto da sconfiggere qualsiasi animosita. Come aveva potuto quell'uomo accanirsi contro una creatura cosi fragile, cosi visibilmente stremata dalla vecchiaia e dalla miseria? (143)

The tiny old woman is equated with a caged bird, an image that, according to Greer, can characterize literature about older women; in this case the trope is extended even further, given that the old woman also owns caged canaries herself. (20) In her fragility, the old shoplifter conforms to the image of the destitute, helpless elderly lady, and thus elicits the sympathy of the policewoman and Cipolloni, her partner, especially when it is revealed that she has lifted merchandise (some packaged ham and birdseed for her canaries) to the mere value of 2,640 lire. The supermarket manager, on the other hand, is livid, explaining that this is the twelfth time that he has caught her in the act; he is adamant that he wants the elderly shoplifter arrested. Suddenly the policewoman remembers that the manager had locked the old lady in the supermarket storeroom, and therefore could be arrested for kidnapping.

Both the policewoman and her partner relish their role of rescuers of the defenseless, and insist on accompanying the aged woman home, after having ensured that she leave the supermarket with several other items for which Cipolloni pays. As they are driving in the squad car, the old woman suddenly informs them that she would like to be accompanied to their headquarters:

"Vede," prosegui la vecchina con un filo di voce, "ci ho riflettuto ben bene mentre lei cosi cortesemente mi riportava a casa e adesso ho deciso: voglio venire al commissariato per denunciare il direttore del supermercato per sequestro di persona. Crede che glieli daranno davvero tre anni di carcere?" (154)

This story, too, like others in Adagio un poco mosso, concludes with a twist: the elderly lady capitalizes on the perception of others who see her as meek, helpless, and pitiful, and turns out to have behaved in an entirely premeditated manner; her shoplifting may have been done out of necessity, but she also knew full well that it was unlikely she would be arrested or taken to court, given her age. The "vecchina" has managed to outwit those younger than herself (the supermarket manager, the two police officers) and through her cunning has devised a plan in order to exact revenge on her accuser. This concluding story of the collection is a particularly good illustration of how Gianini Belotti is able to present old women in an original, thought-provoking and at times even humorous way. Yet in this instance, the old woman portrayed might seem in some ways to exemplify and uphold the stereotype of the evil, vindictive witch, given her desire for retribution. Of course her actions could also be justified, as clearly she is impoverished and her shoplifting could be considered an act of necessity. At the same time, this virtual confirmation of the stereotype denotes just how complex these narrative mechanisms can be; presumed authorial intention is not always played out by the text, and these stories open themselves up to a wide variety of interpretive possibilities.

Adagio un poco mosso raises serious issues that involve elderly women, concerns such as sexuality, mental health, institutionalization, euthanasia, female friendship, and poverty, among others. Gianini Belotti confronts these topics while inventing a cast of characters who challenge readers' preconceptions about aging women and their behavior. Many of the stories are characterized by a twist or an unexpected turn (often amusing) that reveals that these older women resist stereotyping and provides a model of aging that counters the common degenerative paradigm. In this way, perhaps literature achieves what some theoretical writings are not always able to do. Through fiction that adeptly employs narrative techniques that play with reader's assumptions, Gianini Belotti is able to reach a wider audience and more readers are drawn into reevaluating their own preconceptions about the effects of aging on women. The very nature of literary representation, its potential for every image or word to be interpreted by the reader and the very "openness" of the text, signify that the analytical processes taking place in the act of reading allow ultimately for a richer, polysemous examination of older women, something that is perhaps less possible in standard sociological studies of aging.

NOTES

(1) A classic example in Italian literature of this kind of characterization can be found in Pirandello's essay on "L'umorismo": "Vedo una vecchia signora, coi capelli ritinti, tutti unti non si sa di quale orribile manteca, e poi tutta goffamente imbellettata e parata d'abiti giovanili. Mi metto a ridere. Avverto che quella vecchia signora e il contrario di cio che una vecchia rispettabile signora dovrebbe essere. Posso cosi, a prima giunta e superficialmente, arrestarmi a questa impressione comica" (Pirandello 135).

(2) Betty Friedan comments on the deleterious effects of canonical ideas on aging: "The blackout of images of women or men visibly over sixty-five, engaged in any vital or productive adult activity, and their replacement by the 'problem' of age, is our society's very definition of age. Age is perceived only as decline or deterioration from youth. An observer from another planet might deduce from these images that Americans who can no longer 'pass' as young have been removed from places of work, study, entertainment, sports--segregated in senior citizens' 'retirement villages' or nursing homes from which, like concentration camps, they will never return. Is that the reality, or is the 'plight' of the elderly a way to displace or deny our own aging? Older people rendered helpless, childlike, and deprived of human identity or activities don't remind us of ourselves. The 'problem' of age can be shifted onto 'them' and kept away from us. Clearly the image of age has become so terrifying to Americans that they do not want to see any reminder of their own aging. What is the final solution to such a problem?" (Friedan 40-41). Weil discusses one older feminist's contribution to the study of aging's impact on women and her observations on younger women's perceptions of elderly women: "Barbara [Macdonald] was the first to identify ageism as a central feminist issue. She was the first to point out that young women's alienation from old women, their dread of becoming them, their revulsion toward old women's bodies, is the direct result of a sexist consumer society that falsely empowers youth and disempowers the old" (Weil x).

(3) Arber and Ginn describe the persecution of old women as a historical phenomenon: "Whereas the strength of virgins and mothers could be harnessed to patriarchal culture, giving energy to men, the witch-crone represented a woman who could no longer be used by men, one who reserved her powers for herself, refusing to be possessed by patriarchy. In so far as older women were often autonomous, independent of male control, and endowed with knowledge, men feared them" (38).

(4) Diane Gibson explains how earlier feminist studies emphasized the negative aspects of aging: "By focusing on issues of disadvantage, feminist analyses of old age have tended to obscure not only the heterogeneity of old women but also the aspects of being old and female that are a source of both celebration and strength. While there is no doubt that women face a number of adverse physical, emotional, mental, social, and economic eventualities in their old age, such eventualities do not adequately represent the totality of their experiences" (435).

(5) Some Italian women writers who have examined the theme of old age are mentioned by Giorgio in her entry on "The novel, 1965-2000" in A History of Italian Women's Writing in Italy: "Old people in homes receive literary treatment in Petrignani's Vecchi (1994; "Old people"), a collection of short prose pieces based on real interviews, while several short stories from Sanvitale's La realta e un dono (1987; "Reality is a gift") deal with sexuality and old age" (234). Much less interesting than Gianini Belotti's production is the extremely successful Va' dove ti porta il cuore by Susanna Tamaro, which also focuses on an old woman protagonist. For more on women and aging in Italian literature, see also Rita Cavigioli's monograph devoted entirely to the subject: Women of a Certain Age: Contemporary Italian Fictions of Female Aging.

(6) Statistics on demographics of aging and gender consulted on ISTAT's web site http://www.istat.it/ on 30 June 2005.

(7) Arber and Ginn 35-36.

(8) Friedan also critiques how conventional notions of aging affect the elderly: "I have discovered that there is a crucial difference between society's image of old people and 'us' as we know and feel ourselves to be. There are truly fearful realities reflected--and imposed--by that image. To break through that image, we must first understand why, how, and by whom it is perpetuated. We must also glimpse some new possibilities and new directions, both as individuals and as a society, that belie that image" (31).

(9) De Federicis "Recensione a Adagio un poco mosso." Cavigioli interprets the characters' behavior as a kind of second youth: "a distinctive trait of Gianini Belotti [...] is the interest in representing active old age more as a second adolescence than as maturity, as a stage when women attain new forms of knowledge by experiencing new forms of freedom rather than refining their capability to take stock of and review their past" (156).

(10) Cavigioli maintains however that in Gianini Belotti's fictional texts "the disruption of expected age-appropriate behavior is framed within a rigorous, predictable 'thesis narrative'. Characters are so heavily ideological as to lack subtlety, and therefore credibility" (156). I disagree with her analysis of the writer's fiction presenting a predictable thesis narrative; her strategy of surprise in fact belies this, at least in the case of Adagio un poco mosso. Furthermore, while at times some characters presented in the short stories are indeed exaggerated to the point of resembling caricatures, others are more nuanced. Certainly the author's ideological concerns in some instances are patent (especially in her novel, Apri le porte all'alba), but in her short stories her feminist ideology is presented in a complex manner that plays with narrative technique and reader response and merits critical attention.

(11) In her essay "Amore e pregiudizio," Belotti discusses the sexual classification of old women: "L'ostilita, il disprezzo, il ridicolo nei confronti della donna anziana che osa desiderare un giovane viene da molto lontano e si tramanda attraverso leggi del costume, convenzioni sociali, luoghi comuni che si fondono in un blocco compatto e tenace di pregiudizi il cui rispetto e affidato alie sanzioni contro chi viola l'interdizione. Si tratta di un tabu primordiale che affonda le radici nel patriarcato, il quale ha fondato le proprie alleanze e la propria perpetuazione nella discendenza, sullo scambio tra maschi delle donne feconde. La donna che porta su di se i segni della tine della fecondita, non serve piu, ba adempiuto al suo compito: il suo ventre sterile agita fantasmi di morte ..." (72). Similar sentiments are expressed in a recent interview where in response to the question: "Ritiene la resistenza ad accettare la sessualita della donna matura sia ancora presente nella societa d'oggi?" Gianini Belotti replies: "E uno dei tabu piu duri a morire, l'interdizione resiste e le donne sono le prime a condividerla. Eppure basta guardarsi in giro per vedere donne mature molto attraenti, curiose, intelligenti, spiritose, vivaci. E cosi: la donna e ancora vista unicamente come corpo e sul corpo, non sull'intelletto, si gioca tuttora la seduzione femminile, segno che il domicilio [sic] maschile, che comprende anche il possesso, reale o immaginario, delle donne giovani e feconde, non e stato nemmeno scalfito" (interview with Daniela Rasia for Letture).

(12) "Literary texts are full of unexpected twists and turns, and frustration of expectations. Even in the simplest story there is bound to be some kind of blockage, if only because no tale can ever be told in its entirety. Indeed, it is only through inevitable omissions that a story gains its dynamism. Thus whenever the flow is interrupted and we are led off in unexpected directions, the opportunity is given to us to bring into play our own faculty for establishing connections--for filling in the gaps left by the text itself' (Iser 55).

(13) Booth explains the importance of the narrator's (un)reliability: "surely the moral and intellectual qualities of the narrator are more important to our judgment than whether he is referred to as "I" or "he," or whether he is privileged or limited. If he is discovered to be untrustworthy, then the total effect of the work he relays to us is transformed. [...] difficult irony is not sufficient to make a narrator unreliable. Nor is unreliability ordinarily a matter of lying [...]. It is most often a matter of what James calls inconscience; the narrator is mistaken, or he believes himself to have qualities which the author denies him" (Booth 158-59). This last scenario fits Ottavio's role as narrator precisely: we soon realize that he is far from having "un carattere sensibile," at least as far as his mother is concerned.

(14) "The preoccupation in research literature on social support, particularly family support, has led, until very recently, to the presumption that families of older women exist and are in sufficiently close proximity to help out and that their support is positive and welcome," and, McIrvin Abu-Laban and McDaniel continue, often overlooked is "the fact that not all families are happy families, willing and able to care for aging parents" (102).

(15) For a lengthier analysis of this story and its interesting concerns, see my "Remembering Betrayal: The Roman Ghetto's Pantera Nera (Black Panther) in Elena Gianini Belotti and Giuseppe Pederiali."

(16) "Come le era riuscito di vivere reclusa, in mezzo alia follia degli altri, senza diventare folie lei stessa? Come aveva potuto preservare l'equilibrio della sua mente? La immaginava aggirarsi altera e disperata tra mura bianche e senza appigli, testarda e irriducibile nel suo sdegno muto. Non doveva essersi mai piegata, come ora non si piegava all'incertezza delle sue dita sui tasti" (112).

(17) See, for instance, Ruth Harriet Jacobs, "Friendships Among Old Women" in Women, Aging and Ageism. In addition, female friendship is one of the primary sources of support for the main characters of Apri le porte all'alba, as seen in Doris's various friends such as Marta and Irene, their adoption of their anguished neighbor, Anna Sebastiani, and the young Cape Verdean Margarida, as well as in the more formalized network of feminists who meet on a regular basis.

(18) Camilla's agreement is reiterated shortly before the women carry out their plan: "Le abbiamo spiegato tutto da capo, in ogni dettaglio, e lei ha espresso il suo accordo in modo da non lasciarci il minimo dubbio" (130), so there is no ambiguity regarding her decision.

(19) Andrea O'Reilly refers to Naomi Ruth Lowinsky's concept of the "motherline" (from Stories from the Motherline: Reclaiming the Mother-Daughter Bond, Finding Our Souls) in her article entitled "Across the Divide: Contemporary Anglo-American Feminist Theory on the Mother-Daughter Relationship," Redefining Motherhood: Changing Identities and Patterns, eds. Sharon Abbey and Andrea O'Reilly (Toronto: Second Story P, 1998) 69-91; see pages 82-86 in particular.

(20) In reference to Karen Blixen's work, Greer says: "The imagery of the caged bird is important in this collection; it recurs again and again at climactic moments in the stories. Women are seen as caged by their conditioning, by religion and convention; when they are older their grief and rage at their confinement are converted into passionate indignation when they see other creatures caged" (364).

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SILVIA ROSS

University College Cork