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TIME: Almanac 1993
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1992-09-23
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BOOKS, Page 86Acute Agility
OTHER PEOPLE'S TRADES
by Primo Levi
Translated by Raymond Rosenthal
Summit; 222 pages; $18.95
Did you know that there are more than 350,000 species of
beetles on earth (J.B.S. Haldane once observed that God "is
inordinately fond of beetles"), and that there may be at least
1 million more that nobody has yet identified? Or that one
species eats only roses and another only snails? Or that yet
another can imitate the light of a female firefly so exactly
that when a male firefly comes to mate, it gets eaten?
Well, now you know, because these were among the more than
350,000 thoughts floating around inside the head of the late
Primo Levi, and a good number of them have been crystallized in
this engaging posthumous collection of essays. For most of his
life Levi was known mainly for having written one of the very
best Holocaust memoirs, a thoughtful and kindhearted account
titled Survival in Auschwitz. At the end of his life, in 1987,
Levi was in the headlines again, for having leaped down the
stairwell of the apartment house where he had lived since birth.
Whether this despairing act occurred because the scars of
Auschwitz were too terrible to endure or whether Levi suffered
from manic-depressive syndrome, nobody knows. He writes here,
concerning two German poets who committed suicide, that "the
obscurity of their poetry (is) a pre-suicide, a
not-wanting-to-be"; and about his own writing, by contrast, that
"I have an acute need for clarity and rationality." There are
no further clues here as to why this distinguished life ended
the way it did.
Levi was a professional chemist, manager of a paint factory
in Turin until he retired at 58 to write, and so he writes from
a scientific perspective and with a scientist's precision. But
he was also a humanist, a lover of poetry, and these brief
essays demonstrate the remarkable range of his interests, from
children's games to the genius of Rabelais to the
dissatisfactions of playing chess against a computer to the
question of why butterflies are considered beautiful. And his
mind is agile. When he discovers that the framework of a
crinoline gown in the Kremlin museum contains a tube that used
to be filled with honey to catch stray fleas, he reflects on how
the flea learned to jump 100 times its own length.
Some people mistrust collections of essays on the ground
that they are often fragmentary and monotonous, but it is
precisely the diversity of Levi's pensees (artfully translated
by Raymond Rosenthal) that makes them so entertaining. That and
the basic quality of Levi's mind, skeptical but sympathetic, a
bit melancholy but witty; one feels that he is a friend. About
all those beetles, Levi speculates that they may be the
creatures destined to take over the postnuclear world. "Many
millions of years will have to pass," he writes, "before a
beetle particularly loved by God. . . will find written on a
sheet of paper in letters of fire that energy is equal to the
mass multiplied by the square of the velocity of light." It is
a prospect that nobody else could have imagined.