The idea that to change a political landscape one must first influence people’s minds relies on the premise that what one reads influences what one thinks. In other words, if “ideas have consequences,” then books have consequences, too. The fate of Alessandro Manzoni (1785–1873) in Italy, however, may prove this to be an unfortunately naive assumption.

Manzoni’s masterpiece, I promessi sposi (The Betrothed) (1827), was made compulsory reading for second-year students of Licei classici—classically oriented high schools for academically gifted students—in 1923. The novel is frequently acknowledged as the touchstone of the “proper” Italian language. Manzoni crafted his words in the fashion of the contemporary Tuscan language, considered the most literary among the dialects spoken in Italy at the time. By the era of national unification, only some two hundred thousand Italians out of a population of twenty-five million spoke Italian correctly. Manzoni gave the newborn country its greatest gift: a language.

Manzoni gave the newborn country its greatest gift: a language.

Although the country’s spoken language was only truly unified in the 1950s and ’60s through the influence of national television, Manzoni’s prose set the example to follow. A great number of mannerisms and figures of speech that Manzoni invented for The Betrothed have entered the daily parlance of millions. The literati got their Italian from Manzoni, and, soon enough, newspapers were being written and (eventually) radio news was being delivered in Manzoni’s Italian.

Though Italians clearly appreciate The Betrothedfor its literary