Il pensionamento del portiere (The porter's last day)
QCER C1473 parole
Aurelio was our building's porter for thirty-one years, and on the morning he left I could not have told you his surname. I knew the shape of him at the far end of the entrance hall, bent over the post. I knew that he wore a grey jacket in winter and the same jacket, unbuttoned, in June. That is the whole of it. Thirty-one years is longer than I have known most of my friends.
There was a small gathering for him in the hall on the Friday, organised by the woman from the second floor, who is good at these things. Somebody had bought a cake that nobody cut. We stood about holding plastic cups and saying that the building would not be the same, which was true in a way we did not examine, and Aurelio thanked us twice and then, when the silence went on, a third time. He seemed anxious for us to be released. I have thought since that he was the only person there who understood exactly what the occasion was.
There was a card, and I signed it. I stood with the pen for a while, wrote 'All the best', and then added '4B', because it seemed necessary. It was only in the lift afterwards that it struck me: to a man I had greeted every working day for eleven years, my name had turned out to be a flat number. He would have known who I was in any case: he knew whose parcels went where, which bell had never worked, which dog belonged to which door. That was his job, of course. The things people do for us that we would rather not owe them for, we are quick to call a job.
He was not a talkative man. I have said this to two or three people this week, and each time it has come out sounding like an explanation, which is exactly what I intend it to be. In fairness, none of us had time; the mornings are what they are. And yet I can produce without effort the names of the two brothers who run the café across the road, and the café only opened four years ago.
The new porter started on Monday. He is younger, and he has already put a small plant on the desk, which I take to be a statement of intent. I asked him his name before I had taken off my coat — Bruno — and I have used it twice a day since, with a warmth I can hear myself producing. My neighbour on the fifth floor said it was nice to see somebody making an effort. I agreed that it was. I did not say what the effort was for, she did not ask, and we went up together, watching the numbers.
Parole che forse non conosci
- porterportiere di condominio
- surnamecognome
- entrance hallandrone, ingresso
- the postla posta
- unbuttonedsbottonata
- gatheringpiccola riunione, rinfresco
- to be releasedessere lasciati andare, poter andarsene
- it struck me (that)mi è venuto in mente all'improvviso, ho capito d'un tratto
- parcelpacco
- to owe somebody for somethingessere in debito con qualcuno per qualcosa
- in fairnessa essere onesti
- warmthcalore, affetto
- desk (in a lobby)banco della portineria
Domande
Si risponde con il testo davanti. Non è memoria: è capire.
What does the first paragraph establish about the writer and Aurelio?
Years of daily contact that never became any real acquaintance — Non lo dice con gli aggettivi, lo dice con un dato: trentun anni di portineria e non sa nemmeno il cognome. Quello che resta è una sagoma in fondo all'androne e una giacca grigia. Il paragrafo misura la distanza, non l'affetto.
What is implied by the words 'which was true in a way we did not examine'?
The polite phrase turned out to be exact, and nobody wanted to look at why — La frase di circostanza — «il palazzo non sarà più lo stesso» — risulta vera davvero, e per questo nessuno la esamina: esaminarla costringerebbe ad ammettere che cosa si perde esattamente e chi lo reggeva.
In the writer's view, Aurelio understood the meaning of the farewell better than the neighbours did.
True — Vero. Aurelio ringrazia tre volte e sembra volere che la gente possa andarsene; chi narra conclude che era «l'unico che capiva esattamente che cosa fosse quell'occasione». È un giudizio di chi narra, ed è proprio quello che bisogna individuare.
What does the writer's remark about the word 'job' reveal?
That naming it a job spares the neighbours the feeling of being in debt — «That was his job, of course» sembra una spiegazione neutra, ma la frase successiva la smonta: chiamiamo lavoro ciò per cui preferiamo non essere in debito. La parola serve a non restare obbligati, e chi narra lo sa mentre lo scrive.
Each time the phrase 'he was not a talkative man' is repeated, it comes out sounding like an ___.
explanation — La parola del testo è explanation, e chi narra aggiunge che è esattamente ciò che vuole che sia: non sta descrivendo Aurelio, si sta giustificando. Si accetta anche excuse.
What is left unsaid in the last paragraph?
That the effort with Bruno is a late repair for eleven years of not asking — Chiede il nome del nuovo portiere prima di togliersi il cappotto, e si ascolta mentre produce quel calore. Quando la vicina fa il complimento, la risposta è «I agreed that it was» e basta: non si dice a che cosa serva lo sforzo, ed è lì quello che non si ammette.