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The Color Inside a Melon
A disastrous earthquake has Naples reeling. While the government scrambles to maintain appearances, poverty and anarchy rack the people on Italy’s margins—the illegal immigrants out of Africa, known as the clandestini. One of whom has just been horrifically murdered.
Enter amateur detective Risto. He’s a rare success story: a refugee from Mogadishu, orphaned in his teens, he’s now married the Neapolitan Paola and is the proprietor of a celebrated art gallery. The murder recalls the deaths of his loved ones years ago in Mogadishu, a trauma Risto can’t outrun.
Thinking to force the hand of the white authorities, Risto begins his own investigation. But once he starts playing detective, he quickly gets in over his head. Worse, his digging seems to have brought on a strange hallucination: a golden halo only he can see, like a visionary’s foretelling of death. Everyone he knows, including the woman he loves, seems to brim with secrets; every discovery Risto makes drives him toward an earthquake of his own.
A portrait of turmoil inside and out, The Color Inside a Melon explores race and class, belonging and exclusion in one of the world’s ancient cities. Prolific author, critic, and essayist John Domini delivers an unforgettable portrait of humanity’s endless struggle between moving on and making a home.
Enter amateur detective Risto. He’s a rare success story: a refugee from Mogadishu, orphaned in his teens, he’s now married the Neapolitan Paola and is the proprietor of a celebrated art gallery. The murder recalls the deaths of his loved ones years ago in Mogadishu, a trauma Risto can’t outrun.
Thinking to force the hand of the white authorities, Risto begins his own investigation. But once he starts playing detective, he quickly gets in over his head. Worse, his digging seems to have brought on a strange hallucination: a golden halo only he can see, like a visionary’s foretelling of death. Everyone he knows, including the woman he loves, seems to brim with secrets; every discovery Risto makes drives him toward an earthquake of his own.
A portrait of turmoil inside and out, The Color Inside a Melon explores race and class, belonging and exclusion in one of the world’s ancient cities. Prolific author, critic, and essayist John Domini delivers an unforgettable portrait of humanity’s endless struggle between moving on and making a home.
- GenresMystery
320 pages, Hardcover
Published July 11, 2019
About the author
John Domini
17 books186 followersJohn Domini has won awards in all genres, publishing fiction in Paris Review and Ploughshares, and non-fiction in GQ and The New York Times, and elsewhere. The Times praised his early stories as "dreamlike… grabs hold of both reader and character," and Richard Ford called his ’07 novel, Earthquake I.D., "wonderful… a rich feast." In 2016, J.C. Hallman hailed his latest, MOVIEOLA!, as "a new shriek for a new century." A 2014 selection of criticism, The Sea-God's Herb, was termed "poetic" and "fascinating," in Publishers Weekly. Domini has won an NEA fellowship, taught at Harvard, Northwestern, and elsewhere, and held visiting-artist positions in Italy.
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
September 19, 2019
takes a deep dive into the human heart and the struggle to overcome our differences. Domini has a master's eye when it comes to constructing a scene, vivid and cinematic.
April 9, 2019
Rich, engaging, and captivating. I live the contrast between the rough brutality and the refined sophistication. Balance and tension, endlessly. There’s so much to chew on here. I’ll be thinking about it for a while.
September 18, 2019
A nervy rottweiler of a book, big on risks, big on tenacity and inspiration, and on informed worldliness. Taking on the black African immigrant perspective, and its community in exile, and of course locating that within the post-earthquake community of this imagined Naples. Researching and presenting credible historical contexts. Dealing with different visions of evil and redemption. In the belly of the whale as far as decadence goes. All is permitted, though curiously in a more cheerful and less closed morality than Dostoyevski’s. I also thought of Styron’s Set This House on Fire and Fowles’s The Magus, though in those the daemonic figures are privileged rather than scrambling. And in a different sense, of Celine’s Journey to the End of the Night. In my favorite sections, the feature characters—Risto (the immigrant art dealer and philosopher sleuth), his wife Paola (Neapolitan and mob connected), Tuttavia (Ukranian femme fatale and porn queen), and Giussi (an Afro-immigrant Prospero figure) come to life
with Domini’s signature dazzle. Some quick samples:
Back above ‘Dishu, the stinking mound had included a head or two. Risto got to see what a skull looked like several days after the machete split it. First the machete and then a gas-fed fire—these made quick work of any cry to heaven or attempt to bargain, even the offer of a fine Parisian watch (p. 62).
In this tatterdemalion, they must’ve been losing track of files long before the quake and its electro-magnetic pulse (p.77).
If you asked Risto, roughly three-quarters of what he’d seen today didn’t seem possible. “You’d think,” he said, “every one of us was a walking talking troupe l’oeil” (p.133).
…cross-dressing in Naples was state of the art. The trannies had a reputation to uphold, a craft that went back to the party boys in the Greek tomb paintings (p.148).
[Describing Giussi’s farewell performance]…Giussi went into a dance…The music was his own loping outcry, a Senegal blues, but the movements smacked of the North….The song might be older than Giussi, yet the moves still felt fresh, the shimmy and tap that’d defined the Motown pervert [Michael Jackson] somehow both robotic and seductive…”You like to watch. Watch us writhe…Whatever it takes to stay in our skin.”…Abruptly he slipped backward, out of his skin…”It’s not love,” he was saying, “it’s art, bringing us together….Art, my children, and you’re all in the selfie with me. Vogue, vogue, oh la la!” (p.275ff)
Risto tried arguing that Naples in this century could be for the Africans what New York had once been for the Italians…(p.316).
with Domini’s signature dazzle. Some quick samples:
Back above ‘Dishu, the stinking mound had included a head or two. Risto got to see what a skull looked like several days after the machete split it. First the machete and then a gas-fed fire—these made quick work of any cry to heaven or attempt to bargain, even the offer of a fine Parisian watch (p. 62).
In this tatterdemalion, they must’ve been losing track of files long before the quake and its electro-magnetic pulse (p.77).
If you asked Risto, roughly three-quarters of what he’d seen today didn’t seem possible. “You’d think,” he said, “every one of us was a walking talking troupe l’oeil” (p.133).
…cross-dressing in Naples was state of the art. The trannies had a reputation to uphold, a craft that went back to the party boys in the Greek tomb paintings (p.148).
[Describing Giussi’s farewell performance]…Giussi went into a dance…The music was his own loping outcry, a Senegal blues, but the movements smacked of the North….The song might be older than Giussi, yet the moves still felt fresh, the shimmy and tap that’d defined the Motown pervert [Michael Jackson] somehow both robotic and seductive…”You like to watch. Watch us writhe…Whatever it takes to stay in our skin.”…Abruptly he slipped backward, out of his skin…”It’s not love,” he was saying, “it’s art, bringing us together….Art, my children, and you’re all in the selfie with me. Vogue, vogue, oh la la!” (p.275ff)
Risto tried arguing that Naples in this century could be for the Africans what New York had once been for the Italians…(p.316).
April 26, 2020
John Domini is not for the lazy reader. Blink, skip a paragraph, and you will have missed an essential twist to his tale, a most original metaphor, or a searing sociological revelation. But while you might have to work to read Domini, so shall you be rewarded with every brilliant line. So shall you be enlightened on the history of two ancient corrupt cities, on the proud people who struggle against their corruption, and on the newly arrived and often unwanted immigrants in whose shoes you will find yourself. Your head will throb when Risto’s does from physical abuse and emotional torture. But your heart will open and your mind will expand. Take the ride.
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April 14, 2020SEE NAPOLI AND DIE
"Vedi Napoli e poi muori..." (from Goethe's letters, March 2, 1787).
Not much has changed and everything has changed.
The Color Inside A Melon is the gripping unraveling of murder in Naples that probes deeply into the psyche of both the African immigrants and the native Italians among whom they must find their place and make their peace.
The city of Naples is rendered in depth and detail without falling into travelogue tropes and sightseeing tours. Domini knows his territory as an insider and breathes life into the city by filling it with fascinating characters pushed to their limits, which is where we want to see them, and doing their best to respond with honor and dignity.
Two scenes speak eloquently for the whole. The first extended scene between the protagonist, Risto, and his wife, in which we learn the nature and depth of their relationship is memorable for its authenticity, its psychological complexity, and its empathy. The police station interview between Risto, and the detective Della Figurazione is a clash of two powerful forces, neither friends nor enemies, whom circumstance has placed on the opposite sides of a lethal contradiction. The scene is beautifully played, with tense give and take and precision, the back and forth constantly shifting the stakes.
The writing throughout is penetrating, sly, and funny, told in a unique and personal style pressed into the service of a story that not only reveals “who done it” but the deeply resonant and conflicted reality of other lives in another place. I believed it all. I never said to myself, “yeah, sure. As if…” I was convinced immediately, and then taken unfamiliar places to experience the realities of lives I’ve never lived, vividly and authentically.
"Vedi Napoli e poi muori..." (from Goethe's letters, March 2, 1787).
Not much has changed and everything has changed.
The Color Inside A Melon is the gripping unraveling of murder in Naples that probes deeply into the psyche of both the African immigrants and the native Italians among whom they must find their place and make their peace.
The city of Naples is rendered in depth and detail without falling into travelogue tropes and sightseeing tours. Domini knows his territory as an insider and breathes life into the city by filling it with fascinating characters pushed to their limits, which is where we want to see them, and doing their best to respond with honor and dignity.
Two scenes speak eloquently for the whole. The first extended scene between the protagonist, Risto, and his wife, in which we learn the nature and depth of their relationship is memorable for its authenticity, its psychological complexity, and its empathy. The police station interview between Risto, and the detective Della Figurazione is a clash of two powerful forces, neither friends nor enemies, whom circumstance has placed on the opposite sides of a lethal contradiction. The scene is beautifully played, with tense give and take and precision, the back and forth constantly shifting the stakes.
The writing throughout is penetrating, sly, and funny, told in a unique and personal style pressed into the service of a story that not only reveals “who done it” but the deeply resonant and conflicted reality of other lives in another place. I believed it all. I never said to myself, “yeah, sure. As if…” I was convinced immediately, and then taken unfamiliar places to experience the realities of lives I’ve never lived, vividly and authentically.
April 29, 2020
A literary noir, shining with genuine emotion, sympathy, and suspense. This isn't your usual literary crime novel, tricked-out with a few superficial stabs at artsy language, Domini is a writer's writer, and his story resonates with the crimes of the world as we live them every day--troubling, thrilling, and eminently universal.
September 20, 2019
This is a smart, intelligent novel that combines the social issues of racism, immigration, and drug smuggling with a murder mystery genre. The writing is brilliant in its pacing and dialogue and dramatizes its characters' outer and inner lives with deft, clear passages of prose and action. In addition, Domini knows the great city of Naples intimately and makes it live in all its seething, fragrant, colorful dimensions. I think it's a terrific novel.
September 25, 2020
John Domini’s latest novel, The Color Inside a Melon, begins in media res, with a confrontation between two African immigrants at a dance-party in Naples, and for the next 42 pages (all of chapter 1), it stays with that scene, delivering a kaleidoscopic view of the city’s underworld in high-energy prose, skittering between past and present to lay out the basics of the story: a grisly murder with a sexual connection and a man who wants to find the killer.
That man is Aristofano Al’Kair, known by all as Risto, who fled violent Mogadishu as a child, leaving behind his family, and now, fifteen years later, has achieved great success. He runs a well-regarded art gallery called Wind & Confusion (a Biblical reference, but also suggesting the novel’s constant swirl) and lives in a nice apartment overlooking the bay with his wife Paola, a sexy and wise Italian native, and their two kids. But the happy life doesn’t prevent intrusions of Risto’s rough past. He’s haunted by flashbacks, and by recurring hallucinations of haloes that may or may not be a form of PTSD.
The persistent memories of his hardscrabble journey as an immigrant bring Risto to investigate the murder. Though he didn’t know the victim, he feels a sense of duty to find out why the young man, also from Africa, was stabbed and mutilated—a death and desecration, Risto fears, that no one else will care about.
The setup is a classic of film noir—a bizarre killing and a troubled hero in over his head—and Domini embraces the genre, giving us a femme fatale, a deal-making cop, shadowy characters, more bodies, rumors of greater evil, red herrings, and a wild scene at the end with the entire cast teetering at the edge of catastrophe.
But the film-noir elements are less about plotting than they are about background and mood. Domini is more interested in relating the immigrant experience, mostly that of Black, African men—their attempt at assimilation or the resistance to it, the constant xenophobic and racist treatment, the clandestine business of fake I.D.s, the mispronunciation of one’s last name (an ongoing bit of comedy in the book), and that occasional longing for the country of origin. The details are superb. Here’s Risto remembering a policeman during his escape from ‘Dishu:
Later, Risto stares at his view of the Gulf:
Domini immerses you in the life of Naples, too. The author, whose next book is a memoir of his time in that city, knows the streets well.
Domini’s sentences often spin out into unexpected places, with off-beat rhythms and riffs, mixing erudition, slang, cultural observation, and snippets of Italian. The style, at times, approaches stream-of-consciousness. And while sticking mainly to the mode of realism, Domini doesn’t let you forget that he’s a fan of the self-reflexive hijinks of meta-fiction (see his excellent collection of criticism, The Sea-God’s Herb). Characters speak about “film noir,” and Risto refers to the term “Movieola,” which happens to be the title of one of Domini’s short story collections.
The density of it all may be occasionally overwhelming, but that “Wind & Confusion” mirrors the life of an immigrant in a city where everything’s different and strange. At the end, Risto’s friend sums things up by asking, “And isn’t our life here, in the North—isn’t it all a high-wire act?” Risto agrees, and the novel itself answers with a definite Yes.
That man is Aristofano Al’Kair, known by all as Risto, who fled violent Mogadishu as a child, leaving behind his family, and now, fifteen years later, has achieved great success. He runs a well-regarded art gallery called Wind & Confusion (a Biblical reference, but also suggesting the novel’s constant swirl) and lives in a nice apartment overlooking the bay with his wife Paola, a sexy and wise Italian native, and their two kids. But the happy life doesn’t prevent intrusions of Risto’s rough past. He’s haunted by flashbacks, and by recurring hallucinations of haloes that may or may not be a form of PTSD.
The persistent memories of his hardscrabble journey as an immigrant bring Risto to investigate the murder. Though he didn’t know the victim, he feels a sense of duty to find out why the young man, also from Africa, was stabbed and mutilated—a death and desecration, Risto fears, that no one else will care about.
The setup is a classic of film noir—a bizarre killing and a troubled hero in over his head—and Domini embraces the genre, giving us a femme fatale, a deal-making cop, shadowy characters, more bodies, rumors of greater evil, red herrings, and a wild scene at the end with the entire cast teetering at the edge of catastrophe.
But the film-noir elements are less about plotting than they are about background and mood. Domini is more interested in relating the immigrant experience, mostly that of Black, African men—their attempt at assimilation or the resistance to it, the constant xenophobic and racist treatment, the clandestine business of fake I.D.s, the mispronunciation of one’s last name (an ongoing bit of comedy in the book), and that occasional longing for the country of origin. The details are superb. Here’s Risto remembering a policeman during his escape from ‘Dishu:
As he made some prideful adjustment in his mufti, his eyes enflamed with khat though it wasn’t yet half past seven, his machete zigzagged before the faces of two or three squatters who hadn’t ducked into the scrub.
Later, Risto stares at his view of the Gulf:
The wakes of the fishing boats recalled the spring caterpillars in the Horn of Africa, a rare happy memory.
Domini immerses you in the life of Naples, too. The author, whose next book is a memoir of his time in that city, knows the streets well.
In the skyboxes of Naples, the depth of shadow took you back to when Caravaggio was in town, if not further. You could go all the way back to when Christ was a carpenter. Still, behind the door might be chiaroscuro, but it didn’t take an art historian to know what you’d find there. You’d have the opportunity, if you were of a mind, to cut a man’s throat.
Domini’s sentences often spin out into unexpected places, with off-beat rhythms and riffs, mixing erudition, slang, cultural observation, and snippets of Italian. The style, at times, approaches stream-of-consciousness. And while sticking mainly to the mode of realism, Domini doesn’t let you forget that he’s a fan of the self-reflexive hijinks of meta-fiction (see his excellent collection of criticism, The Sea-God’s Herb). Characters speak about “film noir,” and Risto refers to the term “Movieola,” which happens to be the title of one of Domini’s short story collections.
The density of it all may be occasionally overwhelming, but that “Wind & Confusion” mirrors the life of an immigrant in a city where everything’s different and strange. At the end, Risto’s friend sums things up by asking, “And isn’t our life here, in the North—isn’t it all a high-wire act?” Risto agrees, and the novel itself answers with a definite Yes.
April 9, 2022
I just finished reading Color Inside a Melon, and loved it. The language and riding-on the-back-of-a-motorcycle style are a fresh medium for deeply felt dives into the minds and hearts and souls of the characters, impressions of place, experience of scenes you are in but can't quite make it all out. I will always be a visitor to Naples, and yet I have been there enough to feel a strong connection, which becomes intimacy through John Domini’s books.
November 15, 2021
Gripping, disturbing and a reflection on our times, The Color Inside a Melon shows the life of African refugees in Naples with crystalline precision. This masterful novel hinges on a murder mystery but has at its core the complications of class, the power of memories and the plight of the outsider.
February 10, 2023
(3.5)
Review to come.
Review to come.
February 24, 2024
I had a hard time following some of the plot of this book. It didn't really draw me in or hold my interest, but to each their own, I guess.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews