Book No. 30 of 2025
There should be a word for the feeling you get when you read something that captures an ultra-specific feeling or sensation that you yourself have not experienced. It would describe how I felt reading Agostino, which so acutely depicts the sexual awakening that marks the end of boyhood that I really felt it.
There’s a languid oppressiveness to the book, where the feeling of Italian summer heat seems to perfectly mirror Agostino’s state of mind. Moravia illustrates the bitterness, shame, and helplessness that accompanies his protagonist’s loss of innocence, particularly in his relationship with his mother. It’s somewhat wrenching to see, in the span of a short novella, Agostino’s feeling toward his mother go from earnest adoration to disgust and embarrassment (now that is relatable for anyone who navigated the choppy parent-child relationship waters of adolescence).