The first volumes of the new (eventually) comprehensive and long-awaited edition of Antonio Gramsci's writings (scheduled to run up to the Prison Notebooks in eight huge volumes) do not disappoint. For the first time, we (will) have all of Gramsci's work in one place, and with extensive and fascinating notes to accompany every piece. These two volumes cover 1910–1917, a crucial period in Gramsci's biography and Italy's history, and contain – it seems – everything he wrote in that period for a variety of publications. What (re)emerges with great clarity from these early volumes is that Gramsci was not just a major thinker, but also a great and multi-talented journalist – and, in short, a great writer. In pieces written off the cuff, to short deadlines, and often under strict censorship, Gramsci was able to comment on theatrical productions, art exhibitions, demonstrations and lectures with pungency, intelligence and often dark humour, moving seamlessly between genres and subjects. The notes and scholarly apparatus are detailed and intriguing, putting each piece in context and explaining the meaning of much that might be unclear to the contemporary reader. There are also extensive biographical essays around many of the key figures mentioned in these volumes, including many who are relatively well known but others who are more obscure historical figures linked to the history and politics of Turin in the war years.

Gramsci's fury at the war often emerges from these pages, and his anger at those who had ‘betrayed’ the socialist and working-class movement by supporting the conflict. He also waged long and polemical journalistic campaigns against those in charge of Turin during the conflict, and against major journalists. Political pieces are constantly interspersed with biting theatre reviews.

Another feature that is clear from these writings when seen as a collection and in the round is the way that Gramsci learned to write and make his points under strict and often random censorship, which would often butcher his articles with blank spaces. Gramsci often found a way around this by asking rhetorical questions, or writing in a kind of code. He would later employ these same skills, of course, in the Prison Notebooks, also written in a context of strict censorship.

There are many famous pieces here, such as the celebrated ‘The Revolution against Capital’ from 1917, which are given new life by their position within the context of the other pieces written at the time, and by the scholarly apparatus provided around them. We can see clearly the evolution of Gramsci's thought around the Russian Revolution, and the shock effect of the brutal repression of the Turin uprising of August 1917. Gramsci also saw fascism coming, in the attacks (physical and otherwise) on socialists and others, and the emergence of a radical and violent nationalist movement, supported by a repressive state. In 1917 he wrote: ‘È aperta la caccia al socialismo. È aperta la caccia ai socialisti’.

The first volume of the two (1910–1916) (which actually appeared after the one containing the writings from 1917) includes many articles not attributed to Gramsci before, while others previously seen as ‘by Gramsci’ in other editions have been removed. The pieces are arranged in chronological order, allowing the reader to make connections between them but also drawing attention to evolutions and breaks in relation to real-time events. There are also autobiographical fragments, confirmed by the notes, dealing with subjects such as Gramsci's difficult experiences with certain school teachers. Gramsci was an extraordinary and angry polemicist, cutting in his takedowns of ‘traitors’ and ‘hypocrites’. He also often took inspiration from small moments of everyday life (cronaca) and material he found in the press, such as the arrest of a thief or small wartime scandals. One of his favourite targets was the mayor of Turin from 1909 to 1917, Teofilo Rosso. ‘È veramente esasperante’, Gramsci wrote, ‘che non si riesca una volta ad andar d'accordo con Teofilo Rossi’ and he wrote of Turin's local council, in June 1916, that ‘la Giunta è un ramo secco della vita di Torino. Non rappresenta più nessuno.’

There are also snippets here of other areas of Turinese life which interested Gramsci, such as the issue of mental health and asylums. The extraordinary article ‘Il Matto’ (30.7.1916) recounts a visit by Gramsci to the huge Collegno psychiatric hospital, with its over 2,000 inmates. ‘Mi hanno assicurato’, he wrote, ‘che sono proprio matti; che degli scienziati con tanto di occhiali e di diploma li hanno giudicati tali’ … ‘essi non hanno storia, non hanno costume, non hanno linguaggio.’ Gramsci was furious about the workings of the justice system, and the police force. After witnessing a day in court, he writes of a prosecutor: ‘Il suo dovere, secondo lui, è di condannare sempre’. ‘Vorremmo’ he argued, ‘che la furia del popolo spazzasse via queste montagne di carta bollata.’ Gramsci's attention to detail is astonishing, as is his interest in the workings of the state, and the Church. We also see him becoming radicalised. ‘È necessario’, he wrote in 1916, that ‘gli indifferenti’ disappear altogether.

The 1917 volume plunges the reader into the drama of the wartime crisis, with Turin at its epicentre. In August the city rose up in revolt over bread shortages, and the demonstrations were repressed with cruel force. In mid-August Gramsci wrote of ‘lunghe file di donne che fanno coda alle cinque del mattino dinanzi alle panetterie’. Days later, a revolt exploded across the city, led by those very same women. Gramsci wrote of the working classes: ‘c’è una forma di eroismo anche nelle piccole cose quotidiane’. For Gramsci the Russian Revolution signalled ‘l'inizio di una vita nuova per tutti’. The Russian Revolutions were a matter of great debate, and the rout of Caporetto had shaken the whole country, bringing the war closer to home, as Gramsci observed. Censorship often prevented a full and detailed discussion of these events, but much can be learned from these pages. Gramsci also frequently wrote about the corruption and inefficiencies of the wartime administration. He was attentive to the wartime sacrifices of the working class in the city, and the industrial injuries workers suffered from. Sometimes, Gramsci's personal polemics were merciless, as with his description of a certain Professor Monti: ‘Il prof. Arnaldo Monti ha fissato egli stesso la sua categoria, e modestamente si è classificato fra i cretini’, and he called ‘il professor Delfino Orsi [a journalist] … un perfetto farabutto’.

There is so much to learn from here, to enjoy and to take note of. Subsequent volumes will provide yet more food for thought and material for the study of Italy, not just in the period when Gramsci was writing and active. Gramsci is constantly making historical parallels and drawing attention to cultural trends. He is able, at the same time, to immerse his work in the day-to-day life of Turin in 1917, whilst also discussing the historical role of Giolitti and the shape and direction of Italian capitalism, or the position of the Church. This definitive edition is constantly surprising and interesting, and all those involved should be congratulated.

Gramsci understood in 1916–1917 that Turin's working class was preparing itself for the epic struggles which would mark postwar Italy, and which would see Gramsci himself – once again – at the centre of events, as both a chronicler and an agitator in the ‘Petrograd of Italy’. For these years, we must await the next volumes of this magnificent and unique scholarly and civic enterprise.