“Americans should never come to Europe…it means they never can be happy again.”

Then I suppose I am an American back from Europe. I didn’t feel anything reading this book (especially since I’ve been emotionally conditioned to hold no sympathy towards Italian men of contadino roots). I believe the only condition of literature to upkeep is to find some humanity within the language, which I think the book even posits in its beginning. But instead of Giovanni’s Room conveying any sense of ontological agony that arises from a gay man’s inability to act or rationalize for fear of “emasculation” or ostracization, David’s (and Giovanni’s?) whiteness is a glaring scapegoat utilized to gloss over cruel and predictable behavior. Perhaps that is the point, as no harm is done to David and the poor Italian (who probably weren’t quite white yet) faces the music. However I still found that using the privileged race was not more effective at spotlighting the very repercussive nature towards homosexuality at the time. But I suppose the audience could only handle so much. 

And I’m not saying every book has to be meaningful in its stance. I guess I should defend my comparably poor review in saying that I didn’t like the writing either.