The consistency of the soul
La consistenza dell’anima (‘The consistency of the soul’), Ricardo Tronconi’s new retro-tinged short story, is now online and available for purchase in all major shops. A novella written in its early days and left in the drawer for a long time, which now sees the light of day in eBook form.
It is immediately striking that the title is an oxymoron (‘soul’ and ‘consistency’ are mutually exclusive), but even more peculiar is the subtitle: ‘where there is no mention of the latter’. If the soul is in itself a concept that excludes the body, why juxtapose it with a term as physical as consistency, moreover if it is not actually spoken of?
Quite a conundrum for those who begin the reading, but also for those who end it. The whole narrative seems to be tending towards something else, while the final twist leaves many doubts as to the veracity of what happened. The rather straightforward plot tells of an established psychiatrist couple who meet again after thirty years of separation and become friends. Most of the chapters unfold in dialogue mostly centred on the theme of adultery (the cause of the couple’s separation), but in the last line we find other divine laws broken.
The leitmotif of the whole affair seems to be precisely the latter, which constantly chase all human actions with their weight. As if, after being carved in stone, they were precipitated right into the human body, directing every action. But for a platonically higher purpose: the salvation of the soul and reunion with the divine.
The concept of the soul (from the Greek ànemos, ‘breath’, ‘wind’), in its most common meaning, is the vital principle of man, an immaterial part that governs thought, feeling, will and moral consciousness. All incorporeal things, but which take shape in their action. Like adultery, which is expressed in a rather concrete action.
This explains the ‘consistency’ of the soul, which directs our steps with a breath that is anything but immaterial. In this passage lies everything that makes man a human being: the upward tension and the downward drive. A sort of philosophical and spiritual oxymoron, which sees our ‘pure’ form struggling to free itself from a garment of flesh. Which, paradoxically, is also the only way through which it can act and materialise: not to desire the woman of others, not to commit adultery, not to kill.
And where do these actions take place most, if not in the sentimental and sexual relationships we weave throughout our lives?
“How thrilling it is to penetrate the soul of a person you don’t yet know, to the point of taking them to the edge of the wildest desire!”
So exclaims Sena, the protagonist, implicitly referring to a tension that is vented in the body, but goes beyond the physical form. A desire for possession and sharing that transcends the physical aspect, but can only materialise in it.
“Yet, you should have known: nothing lasts forever and bathing the flower of flesh with semen is not enough. A woman in a universe considers everything, not just the consistency of her soul!”
Summing up, we can now perhaps explain the question we started with. Why does the author claim not to speak of soul, despite the fact that the title seems to indicate just the opposite? Let us try to strip our reflections of the philosophical and religious meaning they may have. Let us focus only on the ‘word’ and see the question from a purely semantic point of view. The title is not ‘The Soul and its Consistency’, but ‘The Consistency of the Soul’. The subject is clearly the former, while ‘there is no mention of the latter’.
As if the author wanted to fool us from the very first lines, making us believe he was talking about something spiritual, while the whole story focuses on much more physical… and more human.
Because who knows if man is really allowed to talk about the soul?
