Any book that has feminist harridans reaching for their fair trade smelling salts gets two thumbs up here. But this one in particular. For three reasons.
I’ll dispense with the first one quickly; the writing. It’s a masterpiece on every level. It makes me happy that so many modern readers are bored by the prose. If you fell asleep every time you picked it up, then stick to reading Twitter; it’s what you deserve.
Second, Tomasi’s idea of the nobility as an idea is profound. Rather than reading The Leopard as an anthem for doomed nobles and the decline of a peculiar stratum of Sicilian society, we’re the richer for seeing it as it is; that the idea of nobility will endure despite revolutionary attempts to dismantle it by boosting barbarian upstarts into positions of power (cf. Animal Farm, 1984, et. al.). I’ll put it more plainly: I’d rather be impoverished under Don Fabrizio than well off under savages like the Clintons and the Podesta brothers.
And third, how can you go past a book that describes a wealthy philistine’s entrance to a ball with his beautiful daughter as ‘a rat escorting a rose’?
Finally, I note that it took a radical leftist, Giangiacomo Feltrinelli, to publish this book, after rejection by mainstream publishers. Feltrinelli would vomit yesterday’s lunch all over the ‘leftists’ we see today, and I’d rather socialise with him than a good number of ‘conservatives’ as well. That he saw The Leopard as great literature is testament to the truth that a leftist like Feltrinelli had more culture in his little finger than we could wring from the entire bodies of fifty filthy antifas today.