Brunetti looks into an incident that occurred 15 years earlier in which a girl fell or was pushed into a canal, and suffered permanent brain damage asBrunetti looks into an incident that occurred 15 years earlier in which a girl fell or was pushed into a canal, and suffered permanent brain damage as a result of being too long underwater. He spars with Lieutenant Scarpa, manipulates his boss, gets help from signorina Elettra, has some coffee with inspector Vianello, has a nice meal at home, navigates with subconscious ease through the calles of Venice, wonders at its beauty - in short, does the things that he usually does in these novels. That is as it should be; that is in accordance with the first law of sequels: if you are going to write a sequel, the sequel has to be identical to the original in all essential respects. If you are going to write a mystery series, the same rule applies.
About the most positive thing I can say about The Waters of Eternal Youth is that it is not nearly as terrible as the previous couple books in the series. In fact, had this been the first book I had read in this series I would have wanted to read the rest of the series.
But there is a lot not to like, especially for those of us who began reading the series at the beginning, when Donna Leon aimed her guns at the rich and powerful, at the corrupt, at the compliant and complicit press, at the church hierarchy. Now she reserves her ire for African immigrants and tourists. She has Brunetti and Vianello thinking that the northern league (Italian fascists) has a point; maybe not one that they are willing to completely accept, but just maybe.
There are other problems with the book. Leon goes through a bunch of contortions regarding possible surveillance or hacking of the email system at the questura, but then follows up with a really muddled and contrived set of events with Scarpa. Way more setup than was needed for such a pointless excursion. Or was she trying to make a point about ubiquitous surveillance? If so, the whole scenario seems pretty contrived.
I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired of the series, or maybe some of her other recent books have been so awful that I can't keep an open mind about her writing anymore, and distrust her political and social judgment....more
In this series Maurizio de Giovanni transforms the police procedural into something deeper and more satisfying. The murder mystery, though never relegIn this series Maurizio de Giovanni transforms the police procedural into something deeper and more satisfying. The murder mystery, though never relegated to the background, serves as a kind of counterpoint to the difficulties and anguish, and sometimes joy and hope, revealed in the inner lives of the main characters. We are shown the ways in which our inner lives, our interior dialogue, can lead us astray and isolate us from those we need most.
Commissario Ricciardi has the supernatural ability to hear the final thoughts of those who have died violent deaths. From a less skillful writer this would be a gimmick that would detract from the novel. But de Giovanni uses it as a way to force Ricciardi into a terrible and unwanted isolation, allowing us to see how very important it is to connect with others: with friends, a lover, family. Ricciardi is unable to make those connections because he knows that he will never be able to share his curse with anyone, and especially not with someone that he cares deeply about. And so, even knowing that he cannot live without companionship, he must keep his distance. It is this awful loneliness that, more than anything else, gives the series its power.
In The Bottom of Your Heart it is July in Naples, and the heat is overwhelming. Ricciardi's tata Rosa has fallen gravely ill, and Ricciardi is terrified and grieving. Maione, Ricciardi's sidekick, is driving himself mad with the belief that his wife has become unfaithful to him. Enrica, Ricciardi's neighbor, and the woman that Ricciardi loves from a distance and is loved in turn, has retreated to an island because she has begun to lose hope that Ricciardi will ever express his love. Livia, the well-connected and beautiful ex opera singer who has fallen in love with Ricciardi, is continuing her long campaign to win Ricciardi's love.
And, yes, a murder was committed: a prominent professor of medicine was hurled out of a window and fell 70 feet to his death. There are a few suspects, and a couple subtle clues early on, but the case remains fairly murky until near the end. De Giovanni does his usual trick of having a couple chapters featuring the unnamed murderer, giving us a partial glimpse of his (or her) motivations, but leaving it quite unclear as to who he (or she) is. And he includes one of his lyrical chapters, in which a motif (in this case, night) is passed from one character to another.
I've liked all the books in this series, but I think this is one of the best. De Giovanni uses the extreme summer heat as a metaphor for the passion that led to the murder, for the jealousy that torments Maione, for the longing felt by Livia, for the despair felt by Enrica, and for the grief felt by Ricciardi. Maybe it's a bit too obvious, but I thought it worked well. Above all, the book is full of compassion and understanding, and that's not something you can say about most murder mysteries....more
Montalbano fans will get their money's worth from this collection. Some of the stories have been previously published in English, but most have not. BMontalbano fans will get their money's worth from this collection. Some of the stories have been previously published in English, but most have not. By Camilleri standards this is a huge book - around 500 pages - and entertaining, and well written and translated. ...more
Three very short novellas about honest judges. Camilleri's story is about a clueless northerner who comes to Sicily as a magistrate at the time of theThree very short novellas about honest judges. Camilleri's story is about a clueless northerner who comes to Sicily as a magistrate at the time of the Italian unification and who is completely oblivious to the local mafia, and seems to have no clue that challenging the local mafia boss might be hazardous.
Lucarelli tells the story of a young woman judge investigating a financial crime who inadvertently kicks a hornet's nest, putting herself in grave danger.
Finally, De Cataldo tells the story of the corrupt vs. the incorruptible: an upright judge and a chronic schemer, enemies since grade school, and engaged in a set of fierce legal battles.
All very lightweight, easily read in an hour or so....more
Apparently I am reading this series out of sequence. This installment explains a lot about Ricciardi's early life, his affliction (the curse of seeingApparently I am reading this series out of sequence. This installment explains a lot about Ricciardi's early life, his affliction (the curse of seeing the recently dead and hearing their final thoughts), his family, and his complicated non-relationships with his neighbor Enrica and with the highly placed and beautiful Livia.
The theme here is jealousy, and nearly everyone is suffering from it. Maione has misinterpreted the flirtation of a fruit seller with his wife; the wife of a famous journalist seems to be jealous of her husband's affair with the beautiful young wife of an elderly and ailing duke; Enrica is jealous of Livia; and Ricciardi himself, normally immune to love and its afflictions, is jealous of a man who seems to be Entica's suitor. And in every case the jealousy is misplaced, or is not as it seems.
As always, Ricciardi is a solitary man, bound by the chains of his curse and, because he keeps apart, feared by his colleagues, and virtually without friends. Yet he sees clearly into the hearts and minds of others, guided by the principle that nearly all crime is driven by love or hunger.
The crime in this novel is the murder of the duke's young and promiscuous wife. There are two obvious suspects, and a couple of possible others. Alibis are thin on the ground, red herrings are everywhere, and for a time even Ricciardi is thrown off track, because he ignores two crucial pieces of evidence. In all, this book works really well as a murder mystery.
But the attraction of the book is in the character of Ricciardi; the lives of his professional companions, Modo and Maione; the women, Enrica and Livia, who love or at least are inclined to love Ricciardi; the city of Naples; and finally de Giovanni's lyrical writing. ...more
This is only a small change of pace from de Giovanni's Ricciardi series. It is set in contemporary Naples and features a talented police inspector whoThis is only a small change of pace from de Giovanni's Ricciardi series. It is set in contemporary Naples and features a talented police inspector who has been ostracized by the police, nationwide, because of unfounded accusations of being on the mafia payroll. He is relegated to a desk job, with no duties, where he sits playing computer poker - a kind of purgatory, but one that he accepts with resignation. His wife and daughter have left him because of the corruption allegation, so he is alone in Naples, away from his home in Sicily, with nothing to occupy his time. He volunteers to take night shifts, just to fill his time. And one night he is called to the scene of a murder, and sees and understands details that others miss. And sees that the investigators' theory of the crime is almost certainly wrong. So in short order he is brought into the case by the (beautiful, talented, and driven) prosecutor.
Once again we are given a book that is lyrical, nearly poetic, despite the gruesome subject matter. The poetry is that of someone driven to madness, but through it we are made to see and to some extent understand that madness, and even to have some sympathy - but not too much, because the crimes are horrible to contemplate.
De Giovannni does not like Naples one little bit. He sees it as a city full of people hostile or indifferent to their fellow Napolitanos; as crowded, polluted, and harsh. He seems to take it all personally. But this view of Naples is essential to the story, in that the murderer uses the hostility of the city as camouflage, enabling him to be essentially invisible as he stalks his victims.
This is not pleasant bedtime reading - no happy endings, no satisfied sense of justice, and only a glimmer of hope that the inspector may be able to emerge from his enforced isolation. But it is a novel that draws you in and, by the first third of the book, is pretty hard to put down. ...more
This is one of the better recent Montalbano novels: not quite as good as the early books in the series, but much better than The Dance of the SeagullThis is one of the better recent Montalbano novels: not quite as good as the early books in the series, but much better than The Dance of the Seagull or Treasure Hunt.
The novel begins with a vivid dream sequence fraught with symbolism and portent (Catarella speaking Latin, a coffin in an empty field containing the ghostly spirit of the commissioner). As in other such sequences, the dream is played out, with variations, as the story unfolds. The story consists of three plot lines: the young wife of an older wealthy merchant reports that she has been robbed; an illegal arms cache is (almost) discovered; and Montalbano falls hard for a beautiful art gallery owner named Marian who is drawn into a sketchy-sounding art deal. Augello is called on to exercise his romantic gifts with a friend of the young wife; Fazio does his usual infuriatingly efficient job investigating the details of each case; Catarella manages to mangle every name that comes his way and to invent his own grammar; and Montalbano solves the cases through inspiration and insight, but can't get any insight into his own personal life.
The love affair with Marian takes some suspension of disbelief: they meet each other three times, sleep together, and suddenly they are both passionately in love and willing to give all for each other. But it turns out that the ending of the novel doesn't work otherwise, and the implausibility of this sudden passion is not so jarring as to reduce the enjoyment of the story.
One of the things I look forward to in this series is the food. I can't complain this time, but I don't think there was anything mentioned that hasn't appeared in several of the previous novels.
In all, Camilleri gives us a story that is on par with the early novels, but a Montalbano from whom most of the sharp edges have been knocked off. It's a good read. ...more
This may well turn into more of a rambling and discursive review than usual because this is a book that I liked but don't quite know why; and sometimeThis may well turn into more of a rambling and discursive review than usual because this is a book that I liked but don't quite know why; and sometimes logorrhea is the only way to clarify my thinking. And I did like this book a great deal despite it being nothing like what I had imagined it would be.
This novel has been more or less on my list for a very long time; ever since the movie was released in the US in around 1971. A friend in high school, an intellectual, a Marxist, and a year older than myself, saw the movie and talked about it. I don't recall what he said (he might have mentioned something about social divisions within the bourseoisie under fascism, but that is pure conjecture now, 44 years later). And I remember wanting to want to see the movie, but realizing that in fact I was unlikely to enjoy it, in part because a movie about the persecution of Jews under fascism would be painful, and in part because my taste in movies at the time ran to westerns and action adventure - though that would soon change. In any case, from that time to this I have had both the movie and the novel on my background list of things to do. But it never popped to the top of my list until a week ago when the new Everyman's edition of the book showed up on the new-books shelf at my local library.
It was not what I expected. A novel whose main characters are Jews in northern Italy during the late period of fascism would, I thought, be primarily about their suffering under the increasing persecution. But that persecution is seldom at the forefront; instead, it is a background menace, referred to at times, at times causing anxiety and inconvenience, but never the main aspect of the story. Ignoring, of course, the narrator telling us within the first few pages that both his family and the family Finzi-Contini perished, were murdered, in a German concentration camp within a few years of this story, and that the narrator was the only survivor.
The narrator is the first-born son of a modestly well-to-do family: by no means rich, but well enough off. The father is active in civic affairs, a member of the local Merchants' Club; a man who seems always a bit perplexed or uncertain. The family is a "fully assimilated" Jewish family. They go to temple but otherwise partake fully in the civic and social life in Ferrara, a small city in the Veneto on the Po river.
The story begins in about 1928 when the narrator is thirteen and encounters Micòl, the daughter of the wealthy and reclusive Finzi-Contini family, peering at him over the wall of her family's estate. She invites him to climb the wall and see their garden. He very much wants to do so: he has been intrigued by her, seeing her every week at temple, but procrastinates, telling her that he doesn't want his bicycle to be stolen. She points him to the entrance of a nearby underground storage room and tells him he can hide his bicycle there. Instead of merely putting his bicycle out of sight, he wanders in and begins daydreaming. It is not until 20 minutes later that he comes back out, by which time the Finzi-Contini chauffeur has discovered Micòl and has ordered her off the ladder where she is waiting for the narrator. And thus is established the character of the narrator: indecisive, a day-dreamer, already infatuated with Micòl but unable to take the simple steps to get to know her better.
We fast forward to the late summer of 1938. The "racial laws" have just taken effect, barring Jews from attendance at state schools and institutions, from membership in other organizaations, and so on. But the effects are only just beginning to be felt. One day the narrator receives a phone call from Micòl's brother Alberto, inviting him to play tennis at their house. The narrator is confused by this, because he has never interacted socially with any of the Finzi-Contini, and he has not yet received the letter from the local tennis club "accepting his resignation". So he responds rather coldly and declines. But soon he does receive the letter and, out of curiosity as much as anything, goes to the Finzi-Contini estate to play tennis. The estate is large, 20 acres, on the outskirts of town, with extensive gardens, a house for the chauffeur and his wife, a horse barn, and various other out-buildings, and an enormous and somehat rundown main house. Soon he, along with several others, make the tennis outings an almost daily occurence, through the long Indian summer of 1938.
Among the regulars is a slightly older man from Milan, age 27, named Giampiero Malnate, a chemist at a new synthetic rubber plant, a Marxist, and a friend of Alberto. As the weeks pass the narrator has increasing feelings for Micòl, and establishes a sort of friendship with Alberto and Malnate. He and Micòl take long strolls together through the extensive grounds and form a friendship, but the narrator begins to daydream, and actually dream, of moving beyond friendship with her.
Micòl is the most interesting character in the novel. She is whip-smart, witty, sardonic, and just generally a very capable young woman. We learn later in the novel that she is very much responsible for the proper running of the household, and she is completing her college degree. It is easy to see why the idealistic narrator might fall in love with her.
In late October the Indian summer comes to an abrupt end, as a cold rain descends. Micòl and the narrator are caught out in it and seek shelter in one of the out-buildings in the Finzi-Contini garden, where the narrator suddenly kisses Micòl unexpectedly. She is taken aback and lets him know that things are not heading that way. A few days thereafter she leaves abruptly for Venice, where she plans to complete the thesis for her degree. She leaves without saying goodbye to the narrator, who is a bit crushed. But he soon learns that she tried to call. He begins visiting Alberto almost daily, and almost daily Giampiero Malnate is there as well. The three of them spend hours talking in Alberto's room; the narrator and Malnate arguing about politics, and Alberto watching, always seeming protective of his friend Malnate (who is not one who needs any protection). It becomes clear that Alberto is homosexual and that he is basically in love with the decidedly heterosexual Malnate. But the narrator no more than hints at this until near the end of the novel.
As autumn turns to winter, the narrator one day is evicted from the local public library: a place he has been going regularly since he was a boy, and where he had become friends with the librarian. More fallout from the racial laws. The father of the Finzi-Contini, a former professor, invites the narrator to come to the Finzi-Contini house to complete his studies: the household library contains 20,000 carefully cataloged volumes. The narrator gladly accepts, and for some months is there twice daily: once in the morning to work on his thesis, and again in the evening to spend time with Alberto and Malnate. In all this time Micòl remains in Venice.
She returns sometime around Passover, but is quite distant with the narrator. Though he continues to come to the house twice daily, he sees her only rarely. Eventually he asks her why she is being so cold to him, and she tells him that it is because she doesn't want to interrupt him while he is working, and that she has never interrupted her brother while he has guests. But, in a slightly exasperated tone, she tells him that she will stop in to say hello when he is next in.
Things begin to go pretty badly at this point. Micòl gets a cold and is sick in bed; the narrator asks to see her, and is brought to her room. He is soon overcome with lust and basically leaps on her: she is unresponsive and eventually tells him to get off because she can't breathe. She also tells him that he is being an ass, that they will never be more than friends. Quoting Baudelaire she says that one must choose between honesty and love; the implication being that she has chosen honesty, and so should he.
I've spent way too much time on this synopsis, trying to get clear in my head the basics of the story, and I don't want to give away the actual ending - though there are no great surprises there.
So: why did I like this so much? In part it was the beautiful translation: long, elegantly constructed sentences, almost lyrical, but never seeming contrived or precious. I assume that the original was like that, but I certainly don't have the facility in Italian to find out. There are long passages in which the narrator is thinking in detail about some event that will happen; daydreaming as usual, fantasizing about an upcoming encounter with Micòl, or thinking back on something in the past. In the middle of an actual conversation the narrator will have a long reflection about Micòl, or about Alberto (whose health becomes a great concern in the latter part of the novel), or about his father, or his own future.
Much of the interest in the story is due to the hermetic nature of the Finzi-Contini family. Despite their generosity, inviting people to play tennis at their home, offering the narrator the use of the family library, they keep themselves essentially at a distance from the outside world. At home they seem to speak some odd hybrid of Veneto dialect and Ladino, and the two Finzi-Contini children have invented a way of speaking that they call Finzicontinese, with strange pauses and word emphasis, as though one were to underline in a sentence only the least important words.
It occurs to me now that there is one character in the story I have not mentioned: the Finzi-Contini dog, Jor, a young great dane when the first episode takes place in 1928, and a very elderly one at the conclusion of the story in 1939. He is often present, friendly to the narrator and to the other guests, but basically protective of the family. Though he appears ofen, I do not know to what end. There is only one scene in which Jor's appearance might have made for a dramatic outcome, but nothing really happens. I would like to know what Bassani had in mind for that dog.
Overall I don't know what Bassani had in mind for the novel. In one sense it is jarring to see bourgeois life carrying on in the midst of fascism (early on, Bassani tells us that most of the Jews of Ferrara were card-carrying members of the fascist party - a requirement of life, not a commitment to fascist ideals - a requirement that Finzi-Contini père firmly rejected). One is reminded of the Humphrey Bogard farewell to Ingrid Bergman: "it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." Yet we are left feeling that those problems amount to a great deal; the more so because we know that the lives of most of the characters will be cut short soon after the conclusion of the story. ...more
de Giovanni does some interesting and clever things in this novel.
Chapter 26, "what do you ask of a spring night", is a look at the sorrows, hopes, ande Giovanni does some interesting and clever things in this novel.
Chapter 26, "what do you ask of a spring night", is a look at the sorrows, hopes, and dreams of each of the major characters, without ever naming any of them. It is sad and beautiful in a way that I like.
And chapter 50 is a trio consisting of brigadier Maione (and family), Livia, and Enrica (two women who each are in love with Ricciardi); a trio whose theme is pastiera, and in which the last motif for each player is taken up by the next. It is the one truly light-hearted chapter in the book, and it was executed really well.
The novel is very similar in structure to the other books in the series: we hear the thoughts of the murderer as he (or she) plans or carries out the murder; Ricciardi hears the last thoughts of the dead, and not just those of the case he is investigating; there is an underlying motif that is explored in various ways - love and hunger in this case; there is a dangerous side-plot involving one of Ricciardi's close associates; and, finally, Ricciardi has a flash of insight that leads him to the successful conclusion of the case. So, not so very different from other police procedurals, but it feels very different because of Ricciardi's odd gift / curse. And, of course, there are the occasional lyrical chapters (like chapter 26, mentioned above, and a couple others) that set the novel apart from the usual just-the-facts + love-interest approach in most murder mysteries.
In all, an excellent addition to the series and well worth reading. ...more
An OK murder mystery highlighting the rivalry and antagonisms between the carabinieri and the regular police, and the pervasive influence of the mafiaAn OK murder mystery highlighting the rivalry and antagonisms between the carabinieri and the regular police, and the pervasive influence of the mafia and their collaboration with government officials. This is a short novella at 80 pages; just long enough, as it happens, to have been the basis for one of the episodes of the Montalbano TV series. One unique aspect of this story, in the context of the Montalbano series, is that Catarella is given a starring role, with Fazio and Augello relegated to brief walk-on appearances.
One oddity: in most of the series Montalbano practically swoons at the dishes left for him by his housekeeper Adelina. But in this one Adelina is described as barely a housekeeper who doesn't leave him anything worth eating. This just doesn't fit: he hired Adelina in the first place because of her delicious arancini, and is always describing the amazing things she has left for him in the refrigerator, or in the oven to keep warm.
Unfortunately, the Kindle edition of this book was pretty awful: lots of typos, misspellings, a generally awkward translation, and a general feeling of having been thrown together to make a few bucks. If you are a fan of the Montalbano series I do not recommend that you buy the Kindle edition: better to avoid the book altogether, since it adds little to the series....more
Finally! Montalbano is back, and so is Camilleri, with writing as sharp and compressed as any in this series. No more of the self-referential nonsenseFinally! Montalbano is back, and so is Camilleri, with writing as sharp and compressed as any in this series. No more of the self-referential nonsense that plagued a couple of the recent episodes, and Montalbano has snapped out of the self-pity old-man routine, mostly. This is not the same Montalbano character as in the earliest of the novels: most of the rough edges have been knocked off and worn down, but he still has the focus and sense of justice that made him an admirable character from the start, even when he was being arbitrary and unreasonable.
Bombs are exploding in front of empty warehouses, a beautiful neighbor is making a transparent effort to publicly seduce Montalbano, and anonymous letters are arriving. Something is surely afoot, but nobody knows which way to look in the hall of mirrors. Fazio and Montalbano eventually penetrate the fog of deception and misdirection, but too late for some of the players.
Most of the usual cast make an appearance: Livia (by long distance), Adelina and her son, Fazio, Augello, Gallo, Arqua, Pasquano, and Tommaseo. And the food is mostly the usual: arancini, pasta nero, pasta 'ncasciata, grilled fish, etc. But there are two additions worth checking out: sartù di riso alla calabrisa and pasta alla carrettiera.
Stephen Sartarelli's translation is excellent, as always. And Penguin has done their usual excellent job: good typography and layout, a tight perfect-bound paperback, and excellent cover art. ...more
I've been terribly critical of Leon's recent work, so it was nice that this time around there was nothing especially not to like. Even at her worst (aI've been terribly critical of Leon's recent work, so it was nice that this time around there was nothing especially not to like. Even at her worst (as in The Jewels of Paradise) Leon writes intelligently and well, especially by comparison with most police procedurals, so my criticisms have been mostly out of disappointment that not every one of her books can be as good as the best of her books. Here, in Falling in Love, she returns to the character of Flavia Petrelli, introduced in her first Brunetti novel, Death at La Fenice, seeking, perhaps, to recapture the brilliance of those early novels. She doesn't quite succeed, but comes close.
So, why doesn't this succeed? I think, in part, it is that Leon has lost much of her earlier political passion. In the early novels there was always something that she delighted in tearing apart: corporate greed, political corruption, environmental spoilage, the power of the military. More recently I believe she has lost that passion and has, perhaps, even turned to the right. Her ire, now, is aimed at the hordes of tourists in Venice and the resultant "cheapening of everything" there. She aims her guns at "shoddy Chinese-made" goods, without going further and looking at the political causes of the influx of cheap foreign goods. She has one of her characters deride workers for going on strike during the great financial crisis: "They're crazy! We need these jobs", says the character (approximately). Leon does have Brunetti think to himself that the character is not showing much working class solidarity - but even that is expressed ironically, as if Brunetti doesn't think much of such solidarity. Paola, especially, has entirely given up her leftist and anti-clerical views. And in Falling In Love we are even treated to the spectacle of Brunetti going into a church to reverently light a candle for his mother.
Having this novel feature Flavia Petrelli, the opera singer from the first novel, makes us think a little about the passage of time in the Brunetti series. In this latest novel, Chiara is still at home, in high school as far as I can tell, and Raffi is still in college. This suggests that the novels must be spaced about 3 months or so apart, so the 20 years that separates the first from the most recent novel in real time is about 5, maybe 6, years. That's quite a short time for Brunetti and Paolo to have shed their outrage over the ills of capitalism and to have become apathetic or resigned. But, I guess, 20 years is not too short a time for Leon to have done so.
Once again the publisher, Grove Atlantic, has managed to do a perfectly awful job of typography. They clearly do not care about their readers or authors: if they did, they would make an effort to make their books look like something published by professionals. I do hope that Leon is not in a long term contract with Atlantic Press: she deserves far better.
Interesting history, but terrible romance. This novel is based on the life of the historical character Muhammad al-Idrisi, a 12th century Muslim geogrInteresting history, but terrible romance. This novel is based on the life of the historical character Muhammad al-Idrisi, a 12th century Muslim geographer in Sicily during the reign of king Roger II. Sicily had been retaken by Christian forces from the Muslims, but there was still a Muslim majority on the island, and the conquerors were unable to administer the island without Muslim help. So until the death of Roger the local population was left mostly in peace. The novel covers the period of about 10 years on either side of Roger's death.
Unfortunately, significant parts of the novel are written like a cheap romance, and even some of the social commentary is presented in the form of stilted dialogue between the main characters. This was disappointing coming from Tariq Ali.
Also, too, Ali brings the novel to a rather abrupt close, with a brief epilogue describing the events of the century after Idrisi's death. The novel proper just broke off, leaving one significant hanging thread unresolved.
So as background on Sicilian history of the period it's a good book. But overall, disappointing....more
This is a straight-up Montalbano story without the self-referential nonsense that has marred some of the recent books in the Montalbano series. It is This is a straight-up Montalbano story without the self-referential nonsense that has marred some of the recent books in the Montalbano series. It is as if by writing about the early Montalbano, Camilleri was able to regain the direct freshness of the earlier novels.
Montalbano has just received his promotion to inspector and transferred to Vigata, much to his delight. And already he has his fine sense of justice which sometimes causes him to bend the rules beyond all recognition. And he has begun to develop the irascibility and impatience that were so entertaining in the early novels.
So overall this is a fine prequel and an excellent addition to the Montalbano series....more
This is one of the funniest books I've read in a while, with several laugh out loud scenes, and plenty of social and political satire. The chapters arThis is one of the funniest books I've read in a while, with several laugh out loud scenes, and plenty of social and political satire. The chapters are arranged haphazardly, and Camilleri helpfully suggests in the final chapter ("Chapter I") that the reader should feel free to rearrange them according to taste. I expect this was a very hard book to translate owing to Camilleri's apparently liberal use of dialect and puns, but Satarelli does his usual excellent job.
The novel is set in Vigàta shortly after the unification of Italy, and the local population is seething with resentment at the northerners who have been placed in positions of local power, and most especially the Florentine Bortuzzi who has been appointed prefect of Montelusa province, and who is in league with a local mafioso. Bortuzzi's insistence that the local theater in Vigàta be inaugurated with an obscure opera of his choosing leads to chaos and open rebellion. ...more
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