“For Gregor von Rezzori the past was not another country, it was several.”
In Gregor von Rezzori’s fiction, the end of childhood inevitably turns encounters with surroundings that are rich and strange into ‘routine interaction with the all-too-familiar.’ But the numinous experiences of childhood can be stored like treasures in the foundation of the soul as motifs or images that resurface with a sensation of secret recognition, of ‘déjà vu mingled with nostalgia’ when we come across pale reflections of them later in life. Mourning his lost ability to perceive the world with the rapture of his childhood, the Ermine’s narrator speculates that ‘[p]erhaps our soul is capable of little more than tracing the secret essence of these basic motifs through everything it encounters.’ Even if true, all is not inevitably lost as long as there are books like An Ermine in Czernopol and The Snows of Yesteryear to reverse, or at least suspend, the fossilization of adulthood by opening our eyes, like treasure maps to the glories of a lost era, to the mysterious core of the mundane.
—Tess Lewis wrote a wonderful essay about Gregor von Rezzori’s world, both real and fictional, in the Spring 2012 issue of The Hudson Review. If you’re a Proust fan, definitely check out An Ermine in Czernopol.
