Crooked Nose Revelation

Vitangelo Moscarda (Gengè), a comfortable, unremarkable man, is thrown into existential crisis when his wife, Dida, offhandedly remarks that his nose is crooked. This seemingly trivial observation detonates his sense of self, as he realizes he has never truly seen himself as others do. The revelation is not just about his nose, but about the fundamental disconnect between self-perception and the perceptions of others. Moscarda's world, once stable and unexamined, is now destabilized by the awareness that his identity is not singular or self-determined, but fractured and constructed by the gaze of others. This moment marks the beginning of his obsessive quest to understand who he really is, if such a thing is even possible.

Mirrors and Multiplicity

Moscarda becomes obsessed with mirrors, hoping to catch a glimpse of the "real" self that others see. Instead, he finds only a stranger, a fleeting, artificial image that vanishes the moment he tries to observe it. He realizes that he cannot see himself "living," only as a posed, dead thing. The Mirror Motif becomes a symbol of the impossibility of self-knowledge: every attempt to pin down his identity only multiplies the versions of himself, each one different depending on the observer. The more he searches, the more he is confronted with the dizzying multiplicity of his own being—one, no one, and a hundred thousand.

The Stranger Within

Moscarda's quest for solitude is not to be alone with himself, but to escape himself. He wants to be alone "without himself," to confront the stranger that he is to others. This paradoxical desire leads him to a state of alienation, where he is both subject and object, observer and observed, never able to reconcile the two. He becomes haunted by the idea that he is a stranger even to himself, and that the "self" he knows is just one among countless others, each constructed by the perceptions and expectations of those around him.

Dida's Gengè

Moscarda discovers that his wife, Dida, has her own version of him—her "Gengè"—a persona she has constructed and loves, but which is not him. He realizes that for Dida, her Gengè is more real than the man himself, and that any attempt to assert his own reality threatens her love and their relationship. This insight is both comic and tragic: Moscarda is jealous of himself, or rather, of the version of himself that his wife loves. The more he tries to assert his own identity, the more he becomes a stranger to her, and to himself.

Shattered Self-Image

Moscarda's efforts to discover who he is lead only to further fragmentation. He recognizes that he is not one person, but many: the son of a usurer, the absent-minded husband, the object of ridicule, the subject of gossip. Each relationship, each social context, produces a different Moscarda, none of which he can fully claim as his own. The realization is both liberating and terrifying: he is "one, no one, and a hundred thousand," a shifting mosaic of identities with no stable core.

The Many Moscardas

Moscarda's crisis deepens as he observes how everyone he knows has their own version of him, each as real to them as his own self-image is to him. He sees that every action, every word, is interpreted differently by each person, and that he is powerless to control these interpretations. The self, he concludes, is not a fixed entity, but a social construct, endlessly multiplied and never fully knowable. This insight drives him to experiment with his own identity, to see if he can destroy the versions of himself that others hold.

The Loan Shark's Legacy

Moscarda confronts the legacy of his father, a notorious usurer, and realizes that he is seen by the town as a "loan shark" regardless of his own intentions or actions. His name, his wealth, his social position—all are inherited, and all define him in the eyes of others. He is trapped by a history and a reputation that he did not choose, and which he cannot escape. This realization leads him to a desperate act: he decides to evict a poor tenant, Marco di Dio, only to immediately donate a house to him, hoping to shatter the town's perception of him as a heartless banker.

Marco di Dio's Eviction

Moscarda's eviction and subsequent donation to Marco di Dio is meant to destroy the "loan shark" version of himself in the public eye. Instead, it only convinces the townspeople that he has gone mad. The experiment backfires: rather than freeing himself from others' perceptions, he becomes even more entangled in them, now as a lunatic rather than a villain. The episode demonstrates the futility of trying to control or escape the identities imposed by society.

Madness and Experiment

Moscarda's increasingly erratic behavior—challenging his business partners, confronting his wife, and performing public acts of self-sabotage—are all attempts to break free from the prison of others' perceptions. But each Social Experimentation only multiplies the versions of himself in the eyes of others: now he is not just a loan shark, but a madman, a fool, a scandal. The more he tries to assert his own will, the more he is defined by the reactions of those around him. His quest for authenticity leads not to self-discovery, but to madness and isolation.

Dismantling the Bank

In a final act of rebellion, Moscarda decides to liquidate the family bank, giving away his wealth and severing his ties to the social roles that have defined him. This act is both a confession and a renunciation: he no longer wants to be the person others think he is, nor even the person he thought he was. His wife leaves him, his friends abandon him, and he is left alone, stripped of name, status, and possessions. The destruction of the bank is the destruction of the last vestige of his inherited identity.

Anna Rosa's Revolver

Moscarda's brief, ambiguous relationship with Anna Rosa, his wife's friend, offers a glimmer of connection, but ends in disaster. Anna Rosa, herself restless and rootless, is drawn to Moscarda's strangeness, but is ultimately repelled by it. In a moment of confusion and pity, she shoots him with a revolver she keeps under her pillow. The act is both accidental and symbolic: even in intimacy, Moscarda cannot escape the violence of others' perceptions, nor the danger of being seen as something he is not.

The Failed Embrace

The shooting by Anna Rosa is the culmination of Moscarda's journey into the void of identity. The embrace that should have been a moment of union becomes an act of destruction. Both are strangers to each other, unable to bridge the gap between their inner worlds. The violence is not just physical, but existential: it is the final proof that true understanding, true connection, is impossible. Moscarda survives, but is now more alone than ever.

The Green Blanket Recovery

During his recovery, Moscarda is visited by a magistrate seeking to understand the motives behind Anna Rosa's act. Moscarda, wrapped in a green blanket, is now detached from the world, amused by the absurdity of trying to explain himself. He refuses to provide a coherent narrative, recognizing that any explanation would only create another version of himself for others to judge. The green blanket becomes a symbol of his withdrawal from the world of names, roles, and expectations.

Surrendering Identity

Moscarda, now utterly alienated from his former life, agrees to give away all his possessions and live as a pauper in a charitable institution. This act is not one of repentance or sacrifice, but of liberation: he no longer wants to be anyone, to have anything, or to be seen as anything. He submits to the will of others, not out of humility, but out of indifference. The self, he realizes, is a burden he is glad to relinquish.

Becoming No One

Freed from the constraints of identity, Moscarda finds a strange peace in anonymity. He no longer answers to his name, no longer cares how he is seen, no longer seeks to define himself. He becomes "no one," a being without history, memory, or expectation. In this state, he experiences a kind of rebirth, living moment to moment, unattached to the past or the future.

Life Without Names

Moscarda's final state is one of pure being, unmediated by names, roles, or relationships. He lives in the present, attentive to the world around him, but no longer invested in the illusions of self or society. The institution where he resides is a microcosm of the world he has left behind, but he is now immune to its demands. He is not "Moscarda," not "Gengè," not anyone at all—just a consciousness moving through the world.

The Infinite Solitude

Moscarda's journey ends in a recognition of the fundamental solitude of existence. Each person, he realizes, is alone in their own reality, unable to truly know or be known by others. This solitude is both a source of anguish and a condition of freedom: without the need to be someone, he is free to simply be. The search for identity, he concludes, is a futile attempt to escape this solitude, but in accepting it, he finds a measure of peace.

Rebirth in the Everyday

In the end, Moscarda embraces a life without names, without roles, without illusions. He finds meaning not in being someone, but in being alive, attentive to the world as it is, moment by moment. The book closes with a vision of rebirth: each day is new, each moment is a chance to begin again, free from the burdens of identity and expectation. In this state, Moscarda is not one, not no one, not a hundred thousand, but simply alive.

Characters

Vitangelo Moscarda (Gengè)

Moscarda is the protagonist and narrator, a man whose comfortable, unexamined life is upended by a trivial comment about his appearance. His journey is one of relentless self-examination, as he tries to reconcile the countless versions of himself that exist in the minds of others with his own sense of identity. Psychologically, Moscarda is both obsessive and passive, driven by a need for authenticity but paralyzed by the impossibility of achieving it. His relationships—with his wife, his friends, his community—serve only to multiply his sense of alienation. Over the course of the novel, he moves from confusion to rebellion to surrender, ultimately embracing a state of anonymity and detachment. His development is a descent into madness that paradoxically leads to a kind of enlightenment: the realization that the self is an illusion, and that freedom lies in letting go of the need to be anyone at all.

Dida (Moscarda's Wife)

Dida is Moscarda's wife, a practical and affectionate woman who has constructed her own version of her husband—"Gengè"—whom she loves and understands. For Dida, Gengè is real and sufficient; she is bewildered and hurt when Moscarda tries to assert a different identity. Her inability to see her husband as anything other than Gengè is both a source of comfort and a barrier to true intimacy. When Moscarda destroys the persona she loves, Dida is unable to adapt, and ultimately leaves him. Psychologically, Dida represents the social impulse to fix and stabilize identity, to make others fit our expectations. Her relationship with Moscarda is a tragicomic dance of misunderstanding and projection.

Anna Rosa

Anna Rosa is Dida's friend, a young woman marked by restlessness, independence, and a refusal to settle into conventional roles. She is drawn to Moscarda's strangeness, seeing in him a reflection of her own alienation. Their relationship is ambiguous, charged with both attraction and repulsion. Anna Rosa's impulsive act of violence—shooting Moscarda—serves as the climax of the novel's exploration of the dangers of intimacy and the impossibility of truly knowing another. Psychologically, Anna Rosa is both victim and agent, caught between the desire for connection and the fear of losing herself.

Sebastiano Quantorzo

Quantorzo is Moscarda's father's old friend and the manager of the family bank. He represents the voice of social order, stability, and convention. Quantorzo is both protective and controlling, seeking to manage Moscarda's affairs and to contain his eccentricities. He is baffled and alarmed by Moscarda's rebellion, seeing it as a threat to the family's reputation and fortune. Psychologically, Quantorzo embodies the collective pressure to conform, to maintain appearances, and to suppress individuality for the sake of the group.

Stefano Firbo

Firbo is another of Moscarda's father's associates, a legal advisor and a man of intelligence and ambition. He is both a friend and a rival, quick to judge Moscarda's actions as madness. Firbo's own insecurities and ambitions are revealed in his interactions with Moscarda, particularly in their confrontations over the management of the bank. Psychologically, Firbo is a mirror for Moscarda's own anxieties about competence, reputation, and the expectations of others.

Marco di Dio

Marco di Dio is a poor tenant who becomes the subject of Moscarda's first public experiment in self-destruction. His eviction and subsequent receipt of a donated house serve as a test of whether Moscarda can change the way he is perceived by others. Marco di Dio is both a victim of social injustice and a participant in the collective construction of identity. His reactions, and those of the community, demonstrate the intractability of public opinion and the futility of individual rebellion.

Diamante

Diamante is Marco di Dio's wife, a figure of endurance and loyalty. She shares her husband's dreams and disappointments, and her presence underscores the themes of suffering, hope, and the persistence of illusion. Diamante's role is minor but poignant, highlighting the human cost of social exclusion and the complexity of personal relationships.

Moscarda's Father

Though deceased, Moscarda's father looms large as the source of his son's wealth, reputation, and social position. He is both a model and a warning, a man whose actions have defined Moscarda's life in ways he cannot escape. The father's legacy is a burden that Moscarda struggles to shed, and his memory is a constant reminder of the power of the past to shape the present.

Monsignor Partanna

The bishop of Richieri, Monsignor Partanna represents the authority of the Church and the social order. He is called upon to adjudicate Moscarda's crisis, but his interventions are ultimately ineffectual. The Monsignor's presence highlights the limitations of external authority in resolving the internal dilemmas of identity and meaning.

Don Antonio Sclepis

Canon Sclepis is the director of the charitable institution where Moscarda ends up. He is a figure of benevolence and discipline, orchestrating Moscarda's final surrender of identity and possessions. Sclepis embodies the paradox of charity as both liberation and control, offering Moscarda a place outside society while also defining the terms of his existence.

Plot Devices

The Mirror Motif

Throughout the novel, mirrors serve as a recurring symbol of the impossibility of self-knowledge. Every time Moscarda looks into a mirror, he is confronted with a stranger, an image that is both himself and not himself. The mirror scenes dramatize the central theme: the self is always mediated, always constructed, always elusive. The motif is used to explore the gap between self-perception and the perceptions of others, and to illustrate the endless multiplication of identities.

Direct Address and Metafiction

Pirandello employs a narrative style that frequently addresses the reader directly, inviting them to reflect on their own experiences of identity and perception. This metafictional device blurs the line between fiction and reality, making the reader complicit in the protagonist's existential crisis. The technique reinforces the novel's themes by implicating the audience in the same dilemmas faced by Moscarda.

Social Experimentation

Moscarda's attempts to change how others see him—evicting Marco di Dio, liquidating the bank, confronting his wife—are presented as conscious experiments in self-destruction and self-reinvention. These plot devices serve to test the limits of social perception and to dramatize the futility of escaping the roles assigned by others. Each experiment backfires, reinforcing the novel's message about the inescapability of social identity.

Multiplicity and Fragmentation

The novel's structure is episodic and digressive, reflecting Moscarda's fragmented state of mind. The narrative jumps between past and present, between internal monologue and external action, between philosophical reflection and concrete event. This fragmentation is both a stylistic choice and a thematic necessity, embodying the multiplicity of the self and the impossibility of narrative closure.

Irony and Absurdity

Pirandello uses irony and absurdity to undercut the seriousness of Moscarda's quest, highlighting the comic futility of trying to pin down identity. The novel is filled with moments of slapstick, farce, and self-mockery, which serve to both entertain and to deepen the philosophical inquiry. The humor is both a defense against despair and a recognition of the absurdity of the human condition.

Analysis

A modern meditation on the impossibility of a unified self, "One, No One, and One Hundred Thousand" is a pioneering work of existential and proto-postmodern literature that dismantles the comforting illusion of personal identity. Pirandello's novel anticipates the anxieties of the contemporary world, where the self is endlessly constructed, deconstructed, and reconstructed by the gaze of others, by social roles, and by language itself. The book's lesson is both liberating and unsettling: there is no stable, authentic "I"—only a shifting constellation of selves, each contingent on context and perception. The search for a true self is revealed as a quixotic, even mad, endeavor, but in the acceptance of this multiplicity and in the surrender of the need to be "someone," there is a possibility of peace, humility, and a new kind of freedom. Pirandello's insight—that we are all, at once, one, no one, and a hundred thousand—remains as relevant and provocative today as it was a century ago, challenging us to rethink the very foundations of identity, reality, and human connection.

Last updated: July 18, 2025