The Periodic Table

The Periodic Table by Primo Levi

The Periodic Table (publ. 1975), the novel by the Jewish author Primo Levi, is the latest in a long line of frankly excellent books that I have had the pleasure of reading. As a novel it is composed of twenty-one autobiographical tales, each recording a specific event and/or person, which has particular connotations with a particular periodic table element for Levi, indeed this innovative structure in part contributed to its being voted the Best Science Book Ever Written by the Royal Institution. Despite at first being rather unsure about this collection, after all it does come as quite a surprise as a reader to immediately be bogged down with a rather dense history of Jewish jargon in the first chapter, in the long term I found the work fascinating, succeeding in compromising both the worlds of science and literature to a considerable extent, though not without a few flaws.

Levi portrays science in this autobiographical assortment as being the main reason for his survival of the Holocaust and general suppression of the Jews, experienced for a significant period of his life, indeed anti-Semitism always remains in the background throughout the whole novel. Chemistry is able to achieve this via a variety of means, first it offered a much needed distraction for Levi from the horrific events going on around him, the author himself admitting that ‘self-imposed blindness’ to the Holocaust and alike was the only way to stay sane during such suffering. Furthermore when the ‘grey-green serpent of Nazi divisions’ at last come knocking on his door, Levi receives relatively decent treatment thanks to his being a chemist. Once at Aushwitz, at portrayed in the chapter named ‘Cerium’, Primo and his comrade Alberto are able to fend for food and resources through the manufacture of cigarette lighters which they manufacture from the aforementioned metal. Thanks to this both were ‘kept…alive until the arrival of the Russians’. It is also notable that through both sharing science as an occupation, Levi is able to gain contact with his former guard at the camp, offering a sort of closure for both. The importance of chemistry in Levi’s life, as depicted, is clearly undoubtable.

One of my favourite chapters in The Periodic Table was that entitled ‘carbon’. The mesmerising descriptions of processes such as photosynthesis and respiration really helped to highlight the theme, the hold that matter has over matters, in other words how atoms, molecules, elements and compounds are the basis of all live and interactions. As one reviewer stated ‘[matter is represented] as the universal thread that not only connects one life to another, not only to all life itself, but also to the very matter from which life is derived.’ This indeed helps to back up one of Levi’s essential philosophies, the dominance of matter over spirit. The opposite view was one that dominated Fascist Italy, the idea that spirit could drive forth even the most pitiful army (matter) to success. Levi, being a chemist, and so addicted to the tangible and provable detested this fantastical opinion and thus his strong condemning of it can be seen in The Periodic Table.

My other ‘favourite elements’ from The Periodic Table, besides ‘carbon’, include ‘phosphorus’ and ‘vanadium’. The former is a rather poignant tale of a love that could have been but due to the circumstances brought upon the war never was, the distressing situation perhaps best summed up by the line ‘to carry on your crossbar a girl you desire and be so far from her as not to be able even to fall in love with her’, which epitomises the sense of ‘so close together but so far apart’. My favourite line in the whole novel came in this rather tragic segment, when, in order to disguise the fact that his heart is currently breaking, Levi claims that he is thinking of ‘phosphorus’, hidden emotions behind science. ‘Vanadium’, which describes the reunion that never was, stood out to me through the clear struggle for both the guard and prisoner to move on from the horrific events of the Holocaust. Levi is unable to see his guard in any other sense but as an enemy whilst the guard, keen to garner a sense of closure from the previous events, ‘constructs a convenient past for himself’ so as to detract the blame from himself. It was again a rather touching story that explained much about the human condition.

I’m sure it will provide a great deal of relief for potential readers of this collection that the science jargon does by no means get too technical so that it is unbearable or indeed text book-like. This provides one of the main sources of my congratulation for Levi, namely that his beautiful descriptions and use of personification helped to bring science to life, almost giving the elements of the periodic table emotional as well as physical and chemical characteristics, as exemplified by phrases such as ‘dancing frenetically’ (describing potassium I believe)[1] and ‘not an emotionally neutral element’ (describing phosphorus). It is through Levi’s obvious enthusiasm and joy for the subject that much of the impetus for the book is provided and ultimately making it appealing for both English and chemistry students alike. This fervour is none the more obvious that in the epic, religious imagery of ‘chemistry represented an indefinite cloud of future potentialities which enveloped my life to come in black volutes torn by fiery flashes, like those which had hidden Mount Sinai’. Equally, Levi’s honest use of first person also accentuated the sense of sympathy and empathy that underlines much of the book for the reader. My few complaints for the novel would be that perhaps certain segments were too similar, particularly in the latter parts the particular story thread of ‘unknown substance detected in product’, ‘Levi does some searching’ and ‘the substance is revealed to be x’ occurs repeatedly over many chapters. Despite there being slight variation in the setting and characters involved it does somewhat border on monotony. My deepest disappointment however came when Levi branched off from real life and turned his hand at fiction. The chapters entitled ‘lead’ and ‘mercury’ are composed of bizarre tales that added little to the novel overall and seemed rather out of place in the grander scheme of things. Thus The Periodic Table was overall an excellent read, though having a few flaws.

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[1] This is a hunch, might be wrong :/

Mrs Dalloway

Mrs Dalloway Review

Mrs Dalloway written in 1925, perhaps the most famous work of the modernist writer Virginia Woolf, is a complex and intricate specimen. It follows the ‘communal spirit of London’, centering on the Tory housewife Clarissa Dalloway and her dinner party, an event which links together many of the more minor characters. As a sub-plot the reader also faces is the distressing story of Septimus Smith, a clearly mentally ill individual still recovering from the trauma of the recent war, and eventual his tragic suicide.

A central theme in the novel that rather spoke out to me was the complete hold that time has on life. Throughout the work, which occurs over a twenty-four hour period, the reader is reminded of her overbearing presence, for example ‘Big Ben struck the half hour’, ‘the clock was striking’ and the sense of despair seen in Clarissa, as she reaches middle age, losing her years of freedom and beauty. As a result I have been rather moved towards the moto ‘carpe diem’. Another interesting part of Mrs Dalloway is Woolf’s take on the gender norms of her time. The book contains several strong female characters such as the fiercely independent Lady Bruton, true she does require male support from Mr Dalloway and Mr Whitbread in writing a certain letter to a newspaper editor, but her magisterial presence is such that one gains the sense that they are merely being employed for her use. Equally although Mrs Dalloway is portrayed as the traditional conservative housewife repressed completely by gender stereotypes, Peter Walsh notes that she has been ‘mending her dress as usual… sitting the whole time [that he had] been in India’, she is simply excellent at what she does, being presented as the perfect host and ultimately acts as the centre piece for the novel. Equally the reader does by no means gain a  sense that she is not free. Thus although Woolf’s stance on the gender norms of the time is rather oblique in Mrs Dalloway her breaking away from the stereotype of the weak wife 
speaks volumes.
Another theme integral to Mrs Dalloway is society and class, all the characters throughout the novel being incredibly aware of their standing on the ladder of society. It seems that Woolf finds means to challenge this as well. For instance, one of the few times that the reader is physically repulsed by Clarissa comes in her attitude towards a certain Miss Kilman, the working class tutor to her daughter. She describes her as ‘heavy, ugly, commonplace, without kindness or grace’ and the saturation of negative adjectives and nouns here creates a distasteful level of disgust, though it could be seen to reflect mere mockery on Woolf’s part. Indeed Miss Kilman’s jealousy for Clarissa’s higher social status is highly evident, something that she struggles to hide behind her faith as seen in ‘she did not envy women like Clarissa Dalloway, she pitied them’. The maltreatment of characters such as Ellie Henderson, lower in social status than Clarissa, also supports the case for Woolf’s own prejudice. Ultimately however, it must noted how well Woolf identifies with characters lower down on the scale of class, namely Septimus Smith. The fine, specific descriptions of his sensations and trances, as seen in ‘the leaves being connected by millions of fibres within his own body’, seems to really be Woolf’s own voice. Furthermore, mental illness, something that Smith clearly suffers from, is placed in an

interesting light in the novel. The cold, intrusive and clinical nature of the doctors that treat Septimus, one of them Bradshaw obsessing over ‘proportion’ and aligning strict time limits for his despairing patients, reveals a blatant disappointment over the current medical institutions of the time.

The writing style and structure of Mrs Dalloway are also rather worthy of praise. I loved the interconnection between the various characters by, as Woolf herself stated, ‘[the digging out of] beautiful caves behind [her] characters…[which eventually] connect, each [coming] to daylight at the present moment…’, and the great sense of community this suggested. For example, Clarissa Dalloway and Septimus Smith, the two main protagonists, are connected right near the novel’s end when Clarissa hears of his tragic end and remarks that ‘she felt glad that he had done it; thrown it away while they went on living’.  A real sense of the beating heart of London life is suggested and the novel as a consequence has a rather flowing, continuous feel to it as the separate streams of conscienceness of the various characters interlinked. Equally Woolf’s use of rich, luxurious and emotive imagery over reminisces of time’s past, which occupies much of Mrs Dalloway’s content also gave the novel a certain momentum, along with the many deep, three-dimensional characters littered around it. My few complaints would be the fact that practically every section was dense with importance, requiring rather detailed reading for comprehension along with how Septimus’ story was rather overshadowed by the ongoings higher up on the social scale. However, perhaps this has a useful effect, adding to the sense of tragedy in his story as he is soon forgotten.

Overall I found Mrs Dalloway to be a wholly fascinating piece, though one which I would recommend reading twice to really appreciate it (something that I shall endeavour to do) and a great way to ingratiate oneself with the work of Woolf.