The Art of Joy: A Novel

( 1 )



Rejected by a series of publishers, abandoned in a chest for twenty years, Goliarda Sapienza’s masterpiece, The Art of Joy, survived a turbulent path to publication. It wasn’t until 2005, when it was released in France, that this novel received the recognition it deserves. At last, Sapienza’s remarkable book is available in English.

The Art of Joy centers on...

See more details below
Paperback (Reprint)
$16.92 price
(Save 23%)$22.00 List Price

Pick Up In Store

Reserve and pick up in 60 minutes at your local store

Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (17) from $4.42   
  • New (9) from $12.25   
  • Used (8) from $4.42   
The Art of Joy: A Novel

Available on NOOK devices and apps  
  • NOOK Devices
  • Samsung Galaxy Tab 4 NOOK
  • NOOK HD/HD+ Tablet
  • NOOK
  • NOOK Color
  • NOOK Tablet
  • Tablet/Phone
  • NOOK for Windows 8 Tablet
  • NOOK for iOS
  • NOOK for Android
  • NOOK Kids for iPad
  • PC/Mac
  • NOOK for Windows 8
  • NOOK for PC
  • NOOK for Mac
  • NOOK for Web

Want a NOOK? Explore Now

NOOK Book (eBook)
$9.99 price



Rejected by a series of publishers, abandoned in a chest for twenty years, Goliarda Sapienza’s masterpiece, The Art of Joy, survived a turbulent path to publication. It wasn’t until 2005, when it was released in France, that this novel received the recognition it deserves. At last, Sapienza’s remarkable book is available in English.

The Art of Joy centers on Modesta, a Sicilian woman born in 1900 whose strength and character are an affront to conventional morality. Impoverished as a child, Modesta believes she is destined for a better life. She is able, through grace and intelligence, to secure marriage to an aristocrat without compromising her own deeply felt values, and revels in upsetting the rules of her fascist, patriarchal society. This is the history of the twentieth century seen through the perspective of one extraordinary woman.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Sapienza’s prose is breathless throughout, urgent, driven forward by the twin engines of sex and history....It’s a feast delivered on small plates.”—NPR

“From its explosive, disturbing opening to the quiet cadences of its lyrical close, [The Art of Joy] is crammed with passion, ideas, adventure, and mystery.”—San Francisco Chronicle

“This is the publishing event of the summer…As errant, excessive, and irresistible as the woman at its heart, The Art of Joy more than lives up to the title. Modesta’s ‘intense feeling for life’ overcomes whatever obstacles the ideologies of ‘sorrow, humiliation, and fear’ can throw at her as she embraces ‘life’s fluidity.’”—Boyd Tonkin, The Independent (London)

Publishers Weekly
This massive book, unpublished when Sapienza died in 1996, first printed in a limited edition spearheaded by a friend, then reprinted to become a sensation in France, finally appears in English. It’s easy to see why it didn’t sell initially and why it has such passionate promoters now: the story of Modesta, born poor in Sicily in 1900, passionate reader, lover of men and women, and fighter against fascism and patriarchy, is a stirring and potentially shocking tale of a woman’s awakening. Unfortunately, it is often filled with exposition and moralizing. The strong first section introduces Modesta just when she’s discovered the art of self-pleasure. Surviving rape and fire, she’s taken into a convent where she discovers another source of pleasure: words, and the ability to manipulate others. She leaves the convent for the home of the well-to-do Brandifortis, where she learns how to make love and run an estate. The later sections, in which Modesta reads Gramsci, fascism begins its rise, and the Brandiforti family expands and contracts in complicated ways, feature Modesta’s too-frequent sermons explaining love and deploring men. Still, with its specificity of place, experimentation (Sapienza switches between third- and first-person points of view, sometimes on the same page), and pugnacious determination to use one woman’s life to show a tradition-bound world struggling toward modernity, Sapienza’s singular book compels. (July)
Library Journal
Rejected by a string of publishers and left abandoned for 20 years, this work is just seeing the light of day and is being called a masterpiece. The story of Modesta, a Sicilian woman born on January 1, 1900, who grows up poor but through character and intelligence manages to marry an aristocrat without subverting her own strong sense of self, this work is in fact a fictionalized memoir. Sapienza died in 1996, a decade before the French publication of this book put it on the road to international renown. Not just for the cognoscenti.
Kirkus Reviews
An epic tale of Italian life in the 20th century, as seen through the eyes of an indomitable woman. Modesta is born into a land of heat and dust at the very dawn of that century: "The mountains always turn black as her hair when the heat lets up," she recalls, "but when the heat intensifies they turn blue, like the Sunday dress that Mama is sewing for Tina." It being rural Sicily, a land beyond the pale even of Carlo Levi's Christ Stopped at Eboli, Modesta is brutalized before she is even of school age; the youngest, she does not even stand to receive hand-me-downs. When she's packed off to a convent school where she'll at least eat, she's hardened for battle, but instead she finds--well, love of the sort that dare not speak its name. Modesta grows, becoming increasingly ungovernable even as Italy falls under the sway of fascism, unafraid to declare herself a socialist and resist the regime; with the passing years, she experiences all the normal loves and losses, compounded by her lack of interest in formal definitions of gender or institutions. It's said that this long novel, which sometimes drifts into the politically doctrinaire ("The way you're acting, you're not merely showing respect for the Catholic electorate, you're meeting it fully and distorting the very roots of our struggle"), is a definitive roman à clef recounting its author's life, save that Sapienza enjoyed perhaps less success in her life than does Modesta, who enjoys a considerable reversal of fortune; for one thing, Sapienza, who died in 1996 and whose father was a devout anti-fascist, could not find a publisher for the book in her lifetime, and it appeared in Italy only in 2005. Readers without a grounding in Italian history will perhaps not appreciate fully the depth of Modesta's struggle, while those who are familiar may find in the book a sort of worm's-eye rejoinder to Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa's The Leopard, narrated from the point of view of one not born to privilege. Though long and sometimes slow moving, the book has considerable merit, particularly for students of women's literature of the past century.
The Barnes & Noble Review

In 1976, an Italian actress-turned-writer named Goliarda Sapienza finished writing a novel called The Art of Joy, on which she had worked obsessively for a decade and which she regarded as her masterpiece. Sapienza, born in 1924, was a woman of smoldering beauty and fiery opinions. She began acting in her teens, winning acclaim for her portrayal of Pirandello heroines; but in her thirties, having scored no greater film roles than an uncredited bit part in a Visconti melodrama, she entered therapy and changed careers. Her first book, Open Letter (Lettera Aperta, 1967), was a slim, memoirish novel about her Sicilian girlhood. Her second, The Meridian Hour (Il Filo de Mezzogiorno, 1969) was a fictionalized account of her sessions with her psychoanalyst. The Art of Joy carried on her pet themes of nostalgia and Freudian introspection but was much more ambitious in scope. A sprawling Sicilian family saga, nearly 700 pages long, it roiled with sex, incest, deviant nuns, hot-headed nobles, high-born lesbians, violent vendettas, and political intrigue, and tussled with every Big Idea from fascism to feminism, from Catholicism to communism. Voltaire (whom Sapienza frequently name-checks in these pages, along with Gramsci, Bebel, and Maria Montessori) might have deemed The Art of Joy Panglossian for its "metaphysico- theologo-cosmolo" aspirations. But Voltaire, of course, could not read this book, having died 200 years before it was written. Neither, for decades, could anyone else.

Twenty years after Sapienza completed her fervid manuscript, no Italian publisher had deigned to publish it. It was not until 1998, two years after her death, that the novel appeared, in full, in Italian, in a small print run paid for by her devoted widower, the actor and writer Angelo Pellegrino. In his introduction to the first English translation of the novel — a lively translation by Anne Milano Appel, studded with Sapienza's meaty Sicilian dialect — Pellegrino writes that he longed for the reading world to appreciate his late wife's literary gifts. In particular, he begged critics to admire her main character, a shrewd bisexual rabble-rouser named (with deliberate irony) Modesta, whom Pellegrino calls "the most vivid female protagonist in our twentieth century," despite the fact that, as he scrupulously concedes, she was conceived "between avant- gardism and minimalism," two movements that played down strong character development. In any case, he continued, his late wife preferred "lucid yet passionate abandon" to "types and forms." In The Art of Joy, Sapienza surrenders utterly to her headstrong heroine, accompanying her on an action-packed, lubricious journey from 1900 to the jet age. It is a wild and bumpy ride, and fully realized or not, the vividness of Sapienza's leading lady cannot be denied.

Born into poverty in a squalid Sicilian hut, Modesta (also known as Mody) soon jumps to a more comfortable perch in a convent, relocates to an opulent country estate, then keeps moving onward and (usually) upward for half a century, transforming herself from peasant to princess, from maredda (Sicilian for "girl") to matriarch. In Modesta, Sapienza invented an arresting new exemplar of female virtù that had nothing to do with "virtue": her protagonist was a woman who scorned convention, renounced feminine modesty as a sexist con, and valued personal fulfillment — sexual, intellectual, and material — above all. Beginning her story with Mody's elated discovery of self-pleasure at the age of four or five, Sapienza follows up the girl's juvenile erotic reverie with a horrific rape by her own father (which Mody instantly avenges, and from which she seems to suffer no lasting emotional damage). After a spot of R&R at the nunnery (poignantly named Sisters of the Sorrowful Mother), Mody embarks upon her emphatically consensual sexual education, which continues over half a century, culminating in a euphoric climax between the senescent protagonist (now a grandmother) and her latest conquest. At the age of sixty, Modesta had exhorted one of her grandsons: "Let's let others be the way they are, or how they want to be!" (onlookers who saw the red-hot nonna holding hands with her handsome nipote thought the two were lovers, à la Harold and Maude). This exclamation, which could be spoken by one of the Pirandello heroines Sapienza played in her youth, is very much the cri de guerre of The Art of Joy and may encapsulate the deeply held conviction that inspired the author to write this book in the first place. But that's not what Italian critics thought when they first encountered Sapienza's magnum opus in 1998.

Upon the book's first Italian release, critics heaped it with scorn — one reviewer called it "a pile of iniquity" — but circulation was so minimal that few ordinary readers registered its existence. If Sapienza's intention with The Art of Joy had been to shock, she succeeded. But in all likelihood, she herself would have been shocked by the outrage her novel inspired. "Each of us is the result of a unique past and of our upbringing," her character Modesta tells one of her nephews, and indeed, Sapienza's past and upbringing were more unusual than most. Born to provocation, she may not have recognized how startling her value system would seem to those who did not share it. Her mother was the feminist socialist labor leader Maria Giudice, who gave birth to Goliarda at the age of forty-four — a year after serving time in a Sicilian prison for fomenting rebellion against Mussolini. Her father, Giuseppe Sapienza (he and Giudice never married), was an anti-fascist lawyer who fought for social justice, warred against Mafia corruption, and home-schooled Goliarda to shield her from fascist influences. The name the couple gave their only child (Giudice had seven children from an earlier partnership with the anarchist Carlo Civardi) sounds to a Latin ear like a wry literary invention or a mischievous stage name, and in a way, it was both. Goliarda means "juggler "or "buffoon;" while sapienza means "wisdom." In their lifetimes, Maria Giudice and Giuseppe Sapienza fought tirelessly for their progressive beliefs on the battlefield of Mussolini's Italy. Giudice, a stalwart feminist, championed women's right to equal pay for equal work and for control over their own bodies. Their daughter would continue this struggle on other stages; first in the theater, later in literature.

Internalizing her parents' convictions, Sapienza took their struggle indoors with The Art of Joy, wrestling with the endless, unwinnable conflicts that arise between parent and child, teacher and student, master and servant, man and woman, heterosexual and homosexual, and making the political personal. She uses Modesta as the mouthpiece for her own class-blind and gender-neutral views, as her heroine emphatically argues with her sexual partners, male and female, trying to break them of hidebound habits of inhibition and socially clouded judgment. When one of Mody's many female lovers, a woman named Joyce, confesses that she regrets her homosexuality, regarding it as "unhealthy" and futureless, Modesta scolds her: "All relationships are without a future, given that people change and as we change relationships grow stale for us, making us require fresh emotions." When one of Modesta's many male lovers, Carlo, gets angry when she criticizes his lovemaking and calls her "vulgar," she lightly retorts, "For you, everything natural is vulgar." "Oh God," Carlo replies in despair, "I can't take any more of this! I'm leaving before I kill you!" But like so many other of Mody's lovestruck admirers, he backs down, conciliating, "We'll talk about it later."

Reading this book in English, fifteen years after it first appeared in print, nearly forty after it was completed, it's easy to see why the first eighteen pages (which contain the sexual misadventures of the child Mody) scandalized early readers; but less easy to see why the great majority of the book did not garner it at least some serious critical attention. At the time of the novel's first appearance, Pellegrino showed the Italian edition to European editors, convinced that his late wife's signal achievement had been underrated. In 2005, a French translation emerged, belatedly bringing Sapienza and her novel respect and praise. On the heels of this rehabilitation, and in the wake of increasing Italian interest in the author's personal history, the novel was published anew in Italy a few years ago, this time bearing on its cover an iconic photograph of Sapienza in late middle age, looking weathered and fierce, evoking the memorable description by her contemporary Marguerite Duras in the novel The Lover: "Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you're more beautiful now than then?. I prefer your face as it is now. Ravaged."

When it comes to literary style, even Angelo Pellegrino would allow that Sapienza is no Duras. Where Duras is terse, enigmatic, cinematic, and tautly structured, Sapienza is florid, confrontationally declarative, melodramatic, and meandering. But when it comes to the more ineffable achievement of using literature to uphold the right of women to be whatever they wish to be and to love whomever they wish to love, with total disregard for society's whispers, Goliarda Sapienza stands proud on a high pinnacle of postwar European letters, a signpost marking a road forward that is mined with both risk and reward, still perilous, still provocative.

Liesl Schillinger is a New York–based writer and translator. Her Penguin Classics translation of The Lady of the Camellias, by Alexandre Dumas Fils, came out this summer. Her illustrated book of neologisms, Wordbirds, appears in Fall 2013, from Simon & Schuster.

Reviewer: Liesl Schillinger

Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781250050243
  • Publisher: Picador
  • Publication date: 7/1/2014
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 704
  • Sales rank: 533,904
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.60 (h) x 1.90 (d)

Meet the Author

Goliarda Sapienza (1924–1996) was born in the Sicilian city of Catania. At sixteen, she moved to Rome to study at the Academy of Dramatic Arts, and during the 1950s and '60s she was an actress in both films and the theater. She wrote several novels, though her most important work, The Art of Joy, remained unpublished until after her death.

Anne Milano Appel, Ph.D., a former library director and language teacher, has been translating professionally for more than fifteen years.

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3
( 1 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star


4 Star


3 Star


2 Star


1 Star


Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation


  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
Sort by: Showing 1 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 4, 2013

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing 1 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)