
'I can think of no finer writer to have beside me while Italy explodes, Britain burns, while the world ends' Salman Rushdie From the age of twelve, the Baron Cosimo Piovasco di Rondo makes his home among ash, elm, magnolia, plum and almond, living up in the trees. He walks through paths made from the twisted branches of olive, makes his bed in a holly oak, bathes in a fountain constructed from poplar bark. An aerial library holds the books with which he educates himself in philosophy and mathematics. Suspended among the leaves, the Baron adventures with bandits and pirates, conducts a passionate love affair, and watches the Age of Enlightenment pass by beneath him. 'The most magically ingenious of the contemporary Italian novelists' The Times
I'd definitely suggest starting with these. His short story work is beautiful.
* Our Ancestors (The Cloven Viscount, The Baron in the Trees, The Nonexistent Knight)
* The Complete Cosmicomics (Cosmicomics, t zero, + others)
* Invisible Cities
* If on a winter's night a traveler
> What explains the mutability of Marco Polo’s cities? A quarter of the way through the tales we learn that Marco Polo has no knowledge of Asian languages.
That's not it, I think. It's the fact that Marco Polo is bullshitting, and Kublai Khan knows it, and does not care. The whole point is that this guy is a borderline fraud, weaving tall tales, but no one cares because the stories are good. Its a comedic absurdist view, a mirror held up to fiction, basically asking, "who cares?"