Have you heard about the Battle of Pavia? Also known for having influenced the political landscape of Renaissance Italy, this battle changed the fate of France and the course of European diplomacy. Jean Giono (1895-1970), in his historical novel Le désastre de Pavia, reconstructed the Battle of Pavia – fought on February 24, 1525 – in careful detail, tracing its political and human consequences. The French writer is known for his keen sensitivity and narrative finesse in portraying the events of the battle of Pavia vividly to life. Also known as The Disaster of Pavia, the battle marked the defeat of King Francis I of France’s powerful monarchy by Charles V and the ascendancy of Habsburg-Spanish imperial rule over Italy.
The book is now being published in Italian by Mondadori, one of Italy’s major publishing houses. The Italian edition was made possible through the meticulous work of Franco Pierno, Professor in the Department of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese & Latin American Studies (ISPLAS). With a deep knowledge of early modern language and historical context, Pierno translated Giono’s 1963 novel with close attention to its tone and rhythm. He will discuss his translation process, the historical significance of Giono’s book and its continued cultural relevance at the lecture ‘A Catastrophe Lasting 500 Years’.
Raised in a bilingual Italian-French environment, Professor Pierno also has a personal connection to Pavia, where he lived for several years and studied sacred theology and history of language before completing his doctoral studies in Romance linguistics and philology in Strasbourg, France. In this interview, he reflects on the translation process and his personal and silent battle to work with a text that moves between history reconstruction and literary adaptation.
I believe a book like Giono’s, especially in a new translation, helps keep this history alive for a general audience, connecting literary imagination with historical memory. What did you draw personally to Jean Giono’s Il disastro di Pavia?
It has a long history. I first translated Giono’s novel when I was a PhD student in Romance philology in Strasbourg, for a small Italian publisher based in Pavia, the site of the battle. I was already familiar with the historical and linguistic context of the novel. A couple of years ago, another publisher decided to bring my translation back into circulation and requested my authorization (under Italian law, after 20 years the translator holds the copyright to the translation). This new edition was very successful, with three printings in a very short time, which eventually led to the agreement with Mondadori.
What makes Giono’s writing challenging to translate? Are there stylistic features that required special attention in Italian?
Giono’s writing is challenging to translate because it is at once poetic, muscular, and deeply rooted in orality: his long breath-like sentences and sudden, vivid metaphors demand to be preserved without weighing the prose down or diluting its impact. In this particular case, there was also an entire layer of military and sixteenth-century vocabulary that required special care in its passage into Italian, both to maintain historical accuracy and to avoid sounding archaic in a museum-like way. Moreover, Giono moves nimbly between solemn, almost biblical tones and earthy, colloquial turns of phrase; keeping this oscillation alive in Italian, a language that traditionally separates registers more rigidly, was perhaps the most delicate task, but also essential to conveying the unique energy of his voice.
Was there a particular passage that was especially difficult to translate into Italian? How did you solve it?
I would say the first page, because it was the first and it introduced me to a new textual universe; and also because it dealt with the gastronomic tastes and psychological states of Emperor Charles V. A demanding beginning, but with patience, reflection, and by consulting several dictionaries, I managed to work my way through it.
Did translating this book change your own understanding of the Battle of Pavia or its significance?
Yes, I knew very little about the Battle of Pavia; Giono’s meticulous reconstruction gave me a deep understanding of it, even though Giono (as a good Frenchman…) tends to see the reasons for King Francis I’s defeat in sheer chance rather than in the superior organization and the more modern weaponry of Emperor Charles V’s army.
From what I understand, Giono approaches the Battle of Pavia in a unique way. Which aspects of his interpretation do you believe resonate most strongly with today’s readers?
What strikes me most is his almost obsessive attention to the small details of everyday life, which then ripple across and illuminate the broader stage of history; perhaps this is the aspect of Giono’s lesson that I retain most strongly. He was a sublime storyteller, intent on narrating and making the reader feel a story. It is no coincidence that he spent months on the sites of the battle, absorbing the atmosphere and trying to understand the rhythms and textures of those places before setting out to recount the grand sweep of history.
How do you balance fidelity to the original text with creating a translation that feels natural and engaging for modern readers?
It was difficult; I must confess that while I was translating, I thought primarily of myself, of the pleasure I took in reading the result of my work, rather than of a hypothetical readership.
Why do you think this 500-year-old event remains relevant?
It is an event that changed the fate of Europe and of France and, above all, revolutionized both the way of fighting and the very conception of war. Two different ways of understanding conflict faced each other: pikes and lances on one side (with a king leading his troops in the midst of battle), and on the other, arquebuses and an emperor who followed the course of the fighting from a distance. The very fact of capturing King Francis I and holding him as a hostage was something shocking and entirely new.
How does the Italian edition help reintroduce the topic to a contemporary audience?
I believe it does so simply through the proposal of a historical reconstruction that captivates thanks to its prose, its taste for detail, and the precision of the information it conveys in tones that can be poetic, dramatic, or even comic. Coincidentally, these days a major exhibition of tapestries narrating this epoch-making event has opened in Pavia. I like to think that the translation may serve as a textual complement to this extraordinary wealth of images.
What kind of research did you do to support your translation?
In Strasbourg, I was fortunate to work in a library extraordinarily rich in dictionaries and historical texts.
How long did the translation process take, and what did a typical work session look like for you?
About six months. I remember translating in the mornings, in the library, surrounded by dictionaries. After those six months, I discussed the translation with a professor of French literature at the University of Pavia.
Is there a moment, idea, or phrase in the book that you find particularly beautiful or meaningful?
Yes, there is a passage in which Giono describes the dense fog that, in fall and winter time, can cover the fields of the Pavia plain, where the battle took place. It is a depiction that truly captures the atmosphere of this weather phenomenon: the thick mist, the silence, the muffled sounds, the barely discernible outlines of trees — a sort of moment suspended in time. Giono, a man from the sunny south of France, had personally experienced the fog of the Pavia countryside during the research trip he undertook in preparation for the novel, and he managed to recreate that atmosphere perfectly — one that I know deeply myself, having spent years in those same fields, and which forms part of my own personal history.
What do you hope Italian readers will take away from the book?
If I managed to convey to Italian readers the enjoyment and pleasure I experienced in reading and understanding the French text, I would be very happy!
What: A Catastrophe Lasting 500 Years
When: February 3, 2026
Where: Columbus Room, Columbus Centre–901 Lawrence Avenue West, Toronto
How: Register for the lecture.