After a couple of years, two attempts and two different editions, I have finally finished this book. The first great literary accomplishment of 2016.
All I can say is that the history of humanity lies on every page of this book. Virtues and defects that have illuminated and darkened human existence were eloquently expressed by Boccaccio's brilliant pen that concocted, with mastery and otherworldly wit, one hundred tales told by seven young ladies and three young men who, to contextualize this fine collection, fled the magnificent city of Florence (a place I adore and with which I have a bond that goes beyond the origin of my name and ancestry), trying to escape from the Black Death. These stories are mostly about the connections between intelligence and fortune and how the sort of picaresque characters manage to achieve success. Often involving eroticism (Boccaccio must have been the E.L. James of his time but, you know, with writing skills), these tales accentuate the distance from medieval ideals, focusing on the actual human being.
Anyway, I started reading this collection in 2013 and failed miserably.
06/25/2013 marked as: currently-reading
09/22/2013 page 590 64.0%
01/02/2014 marked as: will-i-ever-finish-it
12/10/2015 marked as: started reading from page 1, clandestinely
12/20/2015 marked as: currently-reading, officially
02/13/2016 marked as: finished
But, as you see, this year I made it. It ended up being a rather special read for me, since I happen to have a photo of a loyal companion sitting by my side, a devoted witness of my struggle with his beautiful amber eyes on me, which I can only visualize now. [Hey, he's not dead! He's just not with me anymore. (hide spoiler)]
A lovely memory is now attached to this wonderful book.