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Le parole del padre: Una storia
Italian
224 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1991
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November 27, 2023
Raffaele Crovi (1934-2007) doesn't seem very well known in the English-speaking world. He was a writer, journalist, poet, literary critic, writer for television and movies, and an editor.
I'm not sure if any of his 20+ books has ever been translated into English; I can find no evidence of any, at least.
A used paperback copy of "Le parole del padre: una storia" (originally published in 1991 and it won the "Premio Selezione Campiello" that year) turned up at my favorite book store, and the two blurbs (short critiques) on the back cover convinced me to give it a try. Plus, it was only $5.95. (The original cover price was 13,000 lire / 6.71 euro!)
The novel runs 219 pages of text, broken up into 135 (!) chapters, the longest of which is three pages, if I recall correctly. Most are between one and two pages. Many are simply short poems (6-12 lines).
As you can see from my rating, I didn't particularly enjoy this book. To be frank, it bored me to tears. The final 3 or 4 pages saved it from being a single star.
I would hesitate to even call this book a novel, as there's no real plot. It's more of an autobiography or a memoir. Despite the title, it's more about the writer (he starts with his birth in 1934) than his father, who did seem an interesting character, but I think he got somewhat short-changed in the book.
Anyway, Crovi clearly led an interesting life, did some interesting work, and met or rubbed shoulders with some interesting and influential people. Unfortunately, little of that interest gets communicated in the pages of this book, although there are some (precious few) entertaining (though very brief) miscellaneous anecdotes strewn throughout the mini-chapters, particularly during those retelling his childhood. And the final few pages were heartfelt as well.
What I found deadly dull as a reader was the absolutely overwhelming number of proper nouns on every single page. Most pages included the names of 15-25 people, most of whom made only the one appearance in the book along with a couple of words or maybe a sentence or two at most about them. Some (not many) of the people mentioned were familiar to me: politicians, writers, businessmen, actors whom I'd heard of before (had I grown up in Italy, perhaps I would have recognized a few more). But the vast majority were just random names with little or no details to latch onto. Too many to look up to see who might have been a historical figure of importance and who was simply someone he happened to meet once perhaps at a dinner or a party or in an office. Beyond the many, many, many lists of people, there were also huge numbers of geographical names: short (sometimes not so short) lists of streets, small towns, rivers, mountains, roads, buildings, stores, businesses, etc. Again, a bit overwhelming and mind-numbing. If a dozen small towns were mentioned on a single page, I obviously wasn't going to stop and look them all up, because on the next page was a different dozen place names.
As I began the book, it felt like there was at least a story coming on, and there seemed to be some progression in the life of the character and that of his father. But no, as the book went on, the sheer volume of names only increased (again, with most names getting maybe a few words or a sentence before moving on to the next), and buried under the weight of so many names, when someone did reappear, I perhaps didn't notice, at least not right away.
In short, no story, not really. Parts of it read more like a summary of his personal agenda. (Something that could be summarized: "In a certain month of the year X, I worked here and met X, Y, and Z.)
No action, no insights, no emotion (a bit at the end, I guess), no conflict, no drama, no involvement. Tons of name-dropping. Silvio Berlusconi's name pops up towards the end, but even his reference is less than a sentence. Tons of particular places.
A dozen or so poems. Short.
Who is this book really aimed at? Perhaps someone who grew up in Italy in the 1950s to the 1970s might more fully appreciate all the name-dropping and place-dropping more than I, but the problem of the lack of story remains.
Perhaps those who knew the author or have read some of the author's work would appreciate this detailed autobiography?
Yeah, I think my two stars is being generous. Crovi is obviously a fine writer, but this particular book* just didn't do it for me.
*Is it even a novel? One of the blurbs on the back begins: "Uno strano romanzo di viaggio..." So that reviewer (Ermanno Paccagnini) called it a "romanzo" which in my mind means a "novel." (I would agree with the "strange" however.)
Pazienza...
I'm not sure if any of his 20+ books has ever been translated into English; I can find no evidence of any, at least.
A used paperback copy of "Le parole del padre: una storia" (originally published in 1991 and it won the "Premio Selezione Campiello" that year) turned up at my favorite book store, and the two blurbs (short critiques) on the back cover convinced me to give it a try. Plus, it was only $5.95. (The original cover price was 13,000 lire / 6.71 euro!)
The novel runs 219 pages of text, broken up into 135 (!) chapters, the longest of which is three pages, if I recall correctly. Most are between one and two pages. Many are simply short poems (6-12 lines).
As you can see from my rating, I didn't particularly enjoy this book. To be frank, it bored me to tears. The final 3 or 4 pages saved it from being a single star.
I would hesitate to even call this book a novel, as there's no real plot. It's more of an autobiography or a memoir. Despite the title, it's more about the writer (he starts with his birth in 1934) than his father, who did seem an interesting character, but I think he got somewhat short-changed in the book.
Anyway, Crovi clearly led an interesting life, did some interesting work, and met or rubbed shoulders with some interesting and influential people. Unfortunately, little of that interest gets communicated in the pages of this book, although there are some (precious few) entertaining (though very brief) miscellaneous anecdotes strewn throughout the mini-chapters, particularly during those retelling his childhood. And the final few pages were heartfelt as well.
What I found deadly dull as a reader was the absolutely overwhelming number of proper nouns on every single page. Most pages included the names of 15-25 people, most of whom made only the one appearance in the book along with a couple of words or maybe a sentence or two at most about them. Some (not many) of the people mentioned were familiar to me: politicians, writers, businessmen, actors whom I'd heard of before (had I grown up in Italy, perhaps I would have recognized a few more). But the vast majority were just random names with little or no details to latch onto. Too many to look up to see who might have been a historical figure of importance and who was simply someone he happened to meet once perhaps at a dinner or a party or in an office. Beyond the many, many, many lists of people, there were also huge numbers of geographical names: short (sometimes not so short) lists of streets, small towns, rivers, mountains, roads, buildings, stores, businesses, etc. Again, a bit overwhelming and mind-numbing. If a dozen small towns were mentioned on a single page, I obviously wasn't going to stop and look them all up, because on the next page was a different dozen place names.
As I began the book, it felt like there was at least a story coming on, and there seemed to be some progression in the life of the character and that of his father. But no, as the book went on, the sheer volume of names only increased (again, with most names getting maybe a few words or a sentence before moving on to the next), and buried under the weight of so many names, when someone did reappear, I perhaps didn't notice, at least not right away.
In short, no story, not really. Parts of it read more like a summary of his personal agenda. (Something that could be summarized: "In a certain month of the year X, I worked here and met X, Y, and Z.)
No action, no insights, no emotion (a bit at the end, I guess), no conflict, no drama, no involvement. Tons of name-dropping. Silvio Berlusconi's name pops up towards the end, but even his reference is less than a sentence. Tons of particular places.
A dozen or so poems. Short.
Who is this book really aimed at? Perhaps someone who grew up in Italy in the 1950s to the 1970s might more fully appreciate all the name-dropping and place-dropping more than I, but the problem of the lack of story remains.
Perhaps those who knew the author or have read some of the author's work would appreciate this detailed autobiography?
Yeah, I think my two stars is being generous. Crovi is obviously a fine writer, but this particular book* just didn't do it for me.
*Is it even a novel? One of the blurbs on the back begins: "Uno strano romanzo di viaggio..." So that reviewer (Ermanno Paccagnini) called it a "romanzo" which in my mind means a "novel." (I would agree with the "strange" however.)
Pazienza...
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