Found Essay: He and I

After reading the following essay, “He and I,” by Natalia Ginzburg, I was absolutely speechless—to say the least. This author seemed to elaborate on the true beauty of people and relationships in a whole new way. She introduces the essay by explaining that it “captures the seesaw of human companionship and love with a patience and sensitivity to interconnectedness that it is hard to imagine a male essayist attempting, much less equaling.” That is some powerful stuff right there. Essentially though, that is exactly, no…wrong word, precisely what she is writing about.

He and I? I and he? Ginzburg goes back and forth between the two throughout the whole story. He likes doing that; I like doing this. He hates doing that; I like doing this. They say opposites attract, right? I started to think that in the beginning too, but as I neared the end, I wasn’t quite sure anymore. Here’s a taste at what I am trying to get at:

“He always feels hot, I always feel cold. In summer when it really is hot he does nothing but complain about how hot he feels. He is irritated if he seems me put a jumper on in the evening. He speaks several languages well; I do not speak any well. He manages—in his own way—to speak the languages that he doesn’t know. He has an excellent sense of direction, I have none at all.”

And it goes on like that for about, mmmm, eight more pages...literally. But, those next eight pages are extremely beautiful, insightful, and intriguing. Honestly, I think this is one of my favorite essays by far; it seems to capture human relationships at their finest.

And so I go on thinking that in the end she’s going to say, oh, but how I love him…or I would be lost in life without him…or even, he is the cheese to my macaroni (you know what I am trying to get at?)…but she doesn’t. Instead she ends the piece reflecting on when they first met, almost like she is contemplating something.

 “I sometimes ask myself if it was us, these two people, almost twenty years ago on the Via Nazionale, two people who conversed so politely, so urbanely, as the sun was setting; who chatted a little about everything perhaps and about nothing two friends talking, two young intellectuals out for a walk; so young, so educated, so uninvolved, so ready to judge one another with kind impartiality so ready to say goodbye to one another forever, as the sun set, at the corner of the street.”

Although ultimately it seems like this essay follows the whole “love acquired, love lost” type of deal, Ginzburg addresses it with such delicacy and simplicity that it seems complete opposite to that first thought. Perhaps this story is true, perhaps it is fiction. Either way, I think in the long run author Natalia Ginzburg leaves the decision to the reader at the end: Is it worth trying anymore, or is it time to give up completely?