The Italian Books Every Italian Read at School (And Actually Liked)

In Italy, the school literature curriculum is a battleground. Students must fight their way through Dante's Inferno, Manzoni's I Promessi Sposi, Leopardi's poetry, and Verga's Sicilian naturalism — often hating every word. But a handful of books break through the resistance and become genuinely beloved. These are the texts that Italians carry into adult life and quote not to show off but because the words became part of them. Understanding these books means understanding how Italians think about time, beauty, death, love, and their own history.

I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed) by Alessandro Manzoni, published in its definitive form in 1840, is the Italian national novel — as central to Italian literary identity as Don Quixote is to Spanish. It is a historical novel set in seventeenth-century Lombardy, following two peasants, Renzo and Lucia, whose marriage is blocked by a tyrannical nobleman. Students often suffer through it at 14, but many Italians return to it in adulthood and discover its dry humour, its psychological brilliance, and its profound meditation on providence, justice, and individual powerlessness. Manzoni essentially created modern standard Italian with this novel — his decision to rewrite it in Florentine-based Italian shaped the language for generations.

What makes I Promessi Sposi remarkable beyond its literary quality is what it did to the Italian language itself. When Manzoni revised his novel in 1840, he famously went to Florence to 'rinse his clothes in the Arno' — rinsciaquare i panni in Arno — meaning he rewrote the whole text in Florentine Italian, the dialect he considered the standard. His choice influenced every subsequent decision about which variety of Italian would become the national written standard. Italians who hate the novel still speak in ways that were shaped by it.

Le Avventure di Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi (1883) is known worldwide in its Disney version, but the original Italian text is darker, stranger, and far more interesting. Collodi's Pinocchio is genuinely rebellious and often unlikeable — he gets the cricket killed, he is selfish, he lies repeatedly even when he does not need to. The transformation into a 'real boy' is earned through genuine suffering and growth, not a magic wish. Italian children read the original text at school and encounter something far more morally complex than the Disney version prepares them for. The original language — nineteenth-century Tuscan Italian — is also a linguistic treasure, rich with colloquialisms and regional expressions that linguists still analyse today.

Se questo è un uomo (If This Is a Man) by Primo Levi, published in 1947, is perhaps the most important Italian book of the twentieth century. Levi, a Jewish chemist from Turin, was deported to Auschwitz and survived to write one of the most lucid, humane, and devastating accounts of the concentration camp experience ever written. Italian schools began teaching it systematically from the 1960s onwards, and it has shaped the moral imagination of every generation of Italian students since. Levi's Italian is impeccable — precise, scientific, utterly controlled — which makes the horror of what he describes even more devastating. Levi wrote as a scientist: he observed, catalogued, and analysed, because that was the only way he could survive the telling.

A book that Italians read later in school, often at 18, is Italo Calvino's Se una notte d'inverno un viaggiatore (If on a winter's night a traveller, 1979). It is a postmodern experiment that addresses the reader directly in the second person: 'You are about to begin reading Italo Calvino's new novel.' Each chapter begins a different novel that is then interrupted. Students either love it immediately or find it maddening — there is rarely a middle position. Calvino was born in Cuba, raised in Liguria, and became one of Italy's most internationally celebrated writers. His prose is lucid, elegant, and playful in equal measure.

Luigi Pirandello deserves a mention even though he is sometimes taught earlier than Calvino. His novel Il fu Mattia Pascal (1904) follows a man who fakes his own death, adopts a new identity, and discovers that freedom from yourself is impossible. Pirandello, born in Sicily, won the Nobel Prize in 1934 — and is also Italy's greatest playwright, author of Sei personaggi in cerca d'autore (Six Characters in Search of an Author, 1921), which premiered in Rome to riots before becoming a landmark of European theatre. His essential themes — identity, illusion, the impossibility of knowing yourself or others — run through all of Italian twentieth-century culture.