Riparare i Torti - Pino Cacucci

 

I hadn't read a book by Cacucci in ages. And it's lovely to see that he's still mildly obsessed with Mexico, and that he remains an excellent storyteller. 

As usual, he tells a (fictional) story of forgotten characters based on real events: the Italian sailors left stranded and uncertain in Mexico as a result of their country's entry into WWII. The story is compelling, and while most of the characters and rather dogmatically sketched (there is often little room for nuances) I found it quite easy to grow fond of a lot of them. 

Through the life of the "proper Fascist" whose identity gets stolen Cacucci shows some very justifiable sympathy for those poor idiots who were taken (or allowed themselves to be taken) for a ride by a regime based on hollow promises and misconceptions. Yet, I wish he wouldn't err so much towards the conspirational at times, because he has enough factual history on his hands to make for a really good novel without resorting to too many mysteries and subterfuges. 

La pouponnière d'Himmler - Caroline de Mulder

 

One of the usual random books that I pick up because I like the title (well, I really, really, really don't like Himmler, but let's say the title sparked my curiosity). 

Bonus points for allowing me to read about a reality that I vaguely knew of, but that I rarely read about in my history books and articles. And in general for being quite touching in the portrayal of the solitude of a young girl who comes to the realization that she has been taken for a ride and that will always be an outsider, no matter where she is. 

And to be honest, given the nature of book, I'm also quite willing to accept the (relatively) uplifting finale (also because it's not overly saccharine after all). 

The Man in the High Castle - Philip K. Dick

 

On the one hand, I didn't like Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and was sceptical of the literary value of something that in my head was inextricably linked to an Amazon series. On the other hand, The Plot Against America is one of the best books I've ever read, so I figured I should give The Man in the High Castle a chance. 

For me, it was a story of two halves (well, not really two halves, more three quarters vs one quarter): until Dick starts to play with the readers' minds and their perception of this alternative reality, it was a great read, compelling and scarily plausible. 

And then Tagomi saw the Embarcadero in San Francisco, my head went for a spin, I got way too confused and started to lose interest in the novel and its direction (though luckily I did still remember with certainty how WWII ended, at least in our world, otherwise my teaching on the early Cold War the following week would have been a bit too wild...). 

Mother Night - Kurt Vonnegut

  

I have to be honest: I generally wouldn't pick a Vonnegut novel if I had a vast choice. I find his wackiness growing stale over the course of novels with a minimal (or at times a highly convoluted) plot. 

But the plot in Mother Night is actually clear and linear, and the wackiness grows gradually, like in so many books that I love from Jonathan Coe to Zadie Smith, or like in the best Coen brothers movies. And I read this book more or less at the same time as I read The Porcupine by Jonathan Barnes, so I was probably positively inclined towards a book about the Cold War and the legacy of the Second World War. 

In short: I really liked Mother Night, but in spite of that I still won't rush to read my next Vonnegut book.

Goodbye to Berlin - Christopher Isherwood

A book that I bought because I still had money to spend from this year's book allowance, and one that I bought only because I had just finished reading A Single Man and loved it.


As I read the first few pages I thought that it was reminding me so much of the movie Cabaret. Clearly the version I read didn't quite have the book cover above otherwise even I would have been able to understand the connection between the two a bit sooner!

Yet, for much that I liked the book (and I really did!), a couple of months have passed and now I can only remember vague passages and sensations, but the actual plot escapes me. And that is either a sign of early-onset dementia (a possibility), a demonstration of how many things I have going on at the moment (more likely, given also that we are expecting a second child in little more than a month by the way!), or it's possibly that the entertainment value of this book doesn't match its literary one.


Shroud - John Banville

A book taken from the book-crossing shelves at Turin airport that manages to be so delightfully Turinese (even in its title) despite being written by an Irish author.

I didn't know anything about Banville (bad me, I mean, the guy even won the Booker Prize) and my mom, right as usual, persuaded me to read this book despite not having even read it herself.

The book is beautifully written, though at times it is possibly a bit too deep and ponderous even for me (or maybe I'm just not as good a reader as I think I am!). The shadowy identity twist from the main character's WWII years, and the decadence of the contemporary setting, however, made this an excellent read. Though, after consecutive books with big WWII discoveries, I really needed something solely focused on the contemporary world and without Nazis around!

Everything Is Illuminated - Jonathan Safran Foer

One of the last "big" buys at the local farm - nowadays I'm not 100% sure if most of the half-decent books they sell are old ones of mine, or whether there's simply another reader somewhere in the area with a similar taste in books who discards virtually the same titles.

I went in with big expectations, having watched the movie a few years ago, and it really didn't disappoint. Actually, it was in many ways better than the movie itself - the grandfather an even more complex character, Alex's writing even funnier than his spoken English (and also, Alex himself is quite a lot deeper), and really rather interesting description of Ukraine and its 20th century history.

If not one of my all-time top-10 books, then definitely one of last year's top-10. It now is in the hands of a couple of friends who went to Ukraine for a trip a month or so ago. 20p say the book will never land back on my shelf. Oh well, at least I really like those guys...

Diary – Anne Frank

I had never read this book chiefly because I had a wonderful middle-school teacher who had us watch the great 1959 movie (in the same year she had us watch Gillo Pontecorvo’s Kapo, Norman Jewison’s Hurricane, Barry Levinson’s Sleepers, study in depth the Arab-Israeli conflict, and plenty of other things – easily the best teacher I’ve ever had while in Italy).

How does one actually read Anne Frank’s diary? Again a rather problematic philological issue: she wrote it thinking that she would share it with posterity herself, but everyone knows how her life ended and I’m not sure any reader can read the diary without constantly remembering that the SS will eventually breach into the Franks’ hiding place.

Regardless of that, and regardless of how heavily or not the diary/diaries might have been edited, this book remains an exceptional read. It is undeniably extremely well-written, and knowing Anna’s tragic end makes her comments about love appear even more cute (for want of a better term). I am not going to comment on her political acumen, because after all we are talking about a young girl who found herself locked in a flat for two years, but her personal observations  on the attitudes of her family and the other people around them can remain a priceless primary source for any young historian studying the Second World War. Too bad my own students probably don’t even manage to read a book a year. 

The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro

Having already seen (and loved) the movie, Ishiguro’s novel really had no surprises for me – but boy was it lovely…

From an historical point of view, Ishiguro does a remarkable job of highlighting how easy it is to be harsh on British appeasers in hindsight because of the consequences of their actions (personally, I think they were fools who thought they understood Hitler and his depravity, but they were also dealt a remarkably bad hand…). And, also, he describes how the patterns of international diplomacy (once the happy game of the chosen few who had moved in the same circles for centuries) changed between the wars as those positions became way more professionalized.

And as for Mr Stevens, much like Penny does with Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory (not the most cultural of references, I know), I wanted to hug him at times and try to explain things that are obscure to him (like banter…) in the simplest possible way.

Too bad that, yet again, I found myself thinking what those people would have voted for in the EU referendum…

The Zone of Interest – Martin Amis

One of those extremely rare books that I borrowed from a library (actually two libraries, since I read half of it in its Italian translation in Bra – yes, my hometown has a funny name! – and half of it in its original version in London). I had somehow managed to avoid reading anything by both Kingsley and Martin Amis, but my mom told me I absolutely had to read The Zone of Interest, and for once I did as I was told straight away.

The Zone of Interest is hugely moving, despite the fact that a number of its characters occasionally read a bit too much like allegories of the German population of the time. Needless to say, of the three main narrators, the Jewish Szmul is the one who often provides the most interesting insight into the (fictionalized) life of the camp. Somehow, though, I have the feeling that the epilogue is a bit unnecessary (much like I felt no need for the final chapters of Group Portrait with Lady or the last book of The Tin Drum) and I feel like the novel would have had a more long-lasting impact on me without its final pages.

The book also made me think about artists telling the stories of people that are not their own. In particular I thought about the comments made by Spike Lee on Tarantino’s Django Unchained. To me, as long as you have class and tact (like Martin Amis in this case), you can tell anyone’s story – sadly two things that were lacking from Spike Lee’s Miracle at Sant’Anna.  

Group Portrait with Lady - Heinrich Böll

One of those books that I literally couldn’t put down (well, if you ask my wife, that’s about any book, except for the remarkably bad ones that I am forced to read for my office’s book club – this month was the turn of The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul, the most offensively patronizing piece of poo poo I’ve ever read, seriously!).

Back on topic. The novel is clearly, yet again, about WWII and Nazifascism (amongst other things). Its approach (a literary mockumentary?) remains hilarious and alternative more than forty years after the book’s publication. In the novel Böll manages to write, always with a hint of irony, some of the most touching pages I’ve ever read (in particular the coffee scene and the singing by Boris, the Soviet POW and real love of Leni’s life) and simultaneously throw in some remarkably humorous comments (at a certain point the author’s research was delayed by his watching the Clay-Frazier fight…).

And the idea that the entire book revolves not just around a normal person, but around one who says so little about herself that it can be contained in one quick page in the middle of the book, is, in my humble opinion, an absolute stroke of genius. Well, that’s actually not just my humble opinion probably; Böll did receive the Nobel Prize after Group Portrait with Lady after all…

The Tin Drum – Günter Grass

One of the greatest novels I’ve ever read. Too bad it’s one book too long (I didn’t really see much of a point in the chapters on the early Cold War in Europe, probably because I find that to be a rather boring period).

Personally, I think the most significant feature of the novel is the self-portrayal of the narrator, Oskar, a character the reader initially wants to hug and cuddle, and later ends up distrusting and stepping away from. Oskar is simultaneously acute enough to decide to stop growing when he is a 3-year old disgusted by the world, and selfishly childish enough to cause the death of his two potential fathers. When I came to the realization he was responsible for the two deaths (something that I would have probably denied, had it not been for the fact that Oskar highlights it, at times with remorse, at times as a matter of fact) I was almost in tears.

Because of its size, and despite its undeniable qualities, this is a book that I had to read over the span of a week. Prolonging the anxiety for that long was really rather intense and this was a book that ended up affecting my mood throughout those days.

Mephisto – Klaus Mann

For years, I thought that Mephisto was just a critically acclaimed movie (which I owned and never watched, clearly) – then a friend gave me this as a birthday present, because it was his father’s favourite book, and the rise of Nazism and all that. In one go I found out that the movie was taken from a book, and that Thomas Mann had a son who could also write, although not as well as him.

The book is a great and fairly quick read. It is fascinating, in particular when one thinks that it was published in 1936, at a time in which the rest of Europe hadn’t yet understood the full depravity of the Nazi regime. It’s a metaphor of the entire German society in the 20’s and 30’s, but I’m not excessively fond of ground-sweeping generalizations, so I prefer to read this book as a demonstration of the fickleness of over-ambitious people, ready to compromise on all their principles (which, probably, they often don’t have in the first place).