The Gorge by Umberto Eco

Italy's Civita di Bagnoregio.

Umberto Eco was a prolific writer and he produced a staggering  amount of work over his lifetime. Much to my embarrassment, I have never quite managed to finish one of his novels. His short fiction has been far more approachable to me. That’s not to say it’s simpler or lacks complexity. If anything, the opposite is true. Eco is relentlessly erudite and intellectually demanding, and in the end, my preference really just comes down to scale and stamina. 

The Gorge has a distinctly semi-autobiographical feel, and I couldn’t help wondering how much of it draws directly from Eco’s own childhood growing up in fascist Italy during World War II. As a coming-of-age story, there’s plenty to admire here: a strong and convincing narrative voice, deep characterization, evocative language, rich detail, and thoughtful political discourse, all wrapped up in a surprisingly compact package.

The story unfolds in two distinct parts. The first half centers on Yambo’s childhood in a small town where the war hums in the background. Distant enough to be ignored at times, but always creeping closer. Yambo is a normal kid: he plays with friends, gets into trouble, and takes risks that would absolutely infuriate his mother. One of those risks turns into an obsession when he discovers he’s good at climbing the dangerous gorge that separates his town from a neighboring village. From there, he begins plotting surprise raids against rival boys on the other side. Along the way, he meets Gragnolia, an Italian resistance fighter who becomes somewhat of a mentor and surrogate father figure. Gragnolia’s provocative monologue on how the Ten Commandments reflect fascist principles is enough to make this story worth reading. He’s a fascinating, morally complex character who steals the spotlight whenever he appears.

Yambo’s climbing skills and intimate knowledge of the gorge become crucial in the second half of the story, which unfolds like a tense military rescue mission. A group of Cossacks is trapped inside a church in the village above the gorge, with German soldiers closing in. Yambo must lead Gragnolia and his comrades up through the fog to reach them. However, the real danger lies in making it back down without plunging into the ravine below and the German's blinding firing at them. Eco ramps up the suspense during this final act, which feels very cinematic.

There’s a lot to unpack in The Gorge. You can read it as a meditation on the inherent paradoxes of historical fiction, an exploration of forgiveness, or a pointed piece of anti-war commentary. It skillfully retains a mini-epic feel without compromising the emotional depth along the way.