Paradiso
by Michele Masneri
Michele Masneri’s Paradiso is narrated in the third person, but from the viewpoint of Federico Desideri, an aspiring author who, for want of better things to do, works as a journalist for the magazine Comic Sans, writing features on fashionistas and entertainment figures. On the “hottest day of one of the hottest summers anyone can remember”, Federico is asked by his editor to go to Rome and interview an à-la-mode Oscar-winning director, Mario Maresca. Although it’s his birthday weekend, Federico, who is passing through a roughish patch with his boyfriend, seizes the opportunity to undertake this assignment. It turns out, however, that Maresca is away from Rome. While chasing his elusive subject through high-society parties, Federico meets and befriends Barry Volpicelli, a down-and-out ex-author and Americophile who, reputedly, inspired Maresca’s cult movie America Latrina. Barry takes a liking to the awkward young man and takes him to the Paradiso, his country estate on the Lazio coast. Consisting of a crumbling tower surrounded by bungalows, villas and woodland, this “Paradise”, while truly Roman, also feels outside of time, like a surreal and darkly comedic version of the domaine perdu in Alain-Fournier’s Le Grand Meaulnes.
This domain is peopled by a cast of eccentric characters. These include Barry’s current (American) wife Mavie, who “rules the roost” as the dame of the estate; her ex-husband, Count Gelasio Aldobrandi (whose family originally owned the Paradiso); Barry’s first wife Rita; Helga and Olga, two lesbians who were personal acquaintances of Pope Benedict XVI; and the retired gynaecologist Professor Lazzari, who now rears prize poultry on the beach.
The first two-thirds of Paradiso consist mainly of conversations between Federico and his new acquaintances, animated by sharp dialogue and cutting satire. Given the “filmic” milieu, the Roman setting, and the colourful characters, it would not be far amiss to read this part of the novel as a send-up of the self-importance of some contemporary Italian art movies – for instance, those of Paolo Sorrentino (whose films I find lovely, but often self-indulgent). But there are also earlier antecedents: it reminded me, for instance, of the early novels of Evelyn Waugh who, perhaps not coincidentally, is referenced in the opening chapters of the novel.
As longueurs start setting in and the vapid conversations begin to tire, Masneri changes gear, suddenly revving up the plot. The novel enters darkly farcical territory thanks to an unexpected death, just as two famous influencers descend on the estate at Mavie’s invitation.
This is an intelligent summer read that is worth seeking out. It has just been published in an English translation by Richard Village for Foundry Editions, making it available to a wider international public.
No comments:
Post a Comment