"There are perversions going on here." (p. 145)
It's the height of the Cold War. US President Ronald Reagan is about to speak in Berlin and demand that the Berlin Wall come down. But none of that matters. The Berlin that novelist Michael Mirolla writes about is more like the corrupt and degenerate Berlin of George Grocz from the 1920s. Many of Mirolla's characters are in fact gross caricatures of people just as George Grocz's drawings were. Seen through the eyes of Mirolla's unreliable and schizophrenic narrator/protagonist, logical (positivist?) philosopher Antonio G. Serratura, these Berliners are morphed by his delusions into dark Dada depictions of a depraved humanity filled with sexual perversions and Quixotic behaviors.
Mirolla begins with a third person narrative introducing Serratura's creator (or perhaps alter ego), Giulio A. Chiavetta, an "ex-stationary engineer by trade and self-styled freelance circus mime" who has apparently gone insane and is living in a clinic in Montreal while being treated by Dr. Wilhelm "Billy" Ryle, a psychiatrist. As the story begins, Chiavetta has apparently escaped from the institution and as the authorities look for this putatively harmless nutcase, Dr. Ryle gets access to Chiavetta's computer and discovers a document written by Chiavetta entitled "Berlin: A Novel in Three Parts." Thus we have a novel within a novel.
Ryle begins reading the first person singular novel, the contents of which are set in quotation marks--at least for a while they are. After a few pages the document becomes a third person narrative. This may seem complicated or abrupt or even unnecessary, but Mirolla writes so well and so engagingly that we don't care about the niceties of narrative construction. It seems that Chiavetta's protagonist, Serratura is on his way to Berlin to participate in the "Wittgenstein World Symposium on the Realism/Anti-Realism Debate in Contemporary Philosophy."
So. We have the makings of a satirical novel about modern philosophy and philosophers seen from the vantage point of the mentally disturbed. Naturally this is interesting to avant-garde writers and effete intellectuals such as myself, and so I read on. It doesn't take a lot of keen discernment to see that somehow Giulio A. Chiavetta and Antonio G. Serratura are more connected than as author and author's character.
All goes interestingly introspective as Serratura reveals his thoughts and meets and converses on the plane with a seller of restaurant supplies named Singer. It appears that a novel of ideas is developing. Perhaps a contrast between the airy, abstract world of philosophy and the practical world of business is being set up for some thematic development.
Serratura himself seems a down to earth and unpretentious philosopher, a man with a wife and daughter back in Montreal who has obviously achieved some success as a philosopher since he has been invited to speak at the symposium. Yet, something seems a bit amiss or a bit quirky. Serratura's wife has threatened to leave him, and has probably taken on a lover, "one of the plumbers or other handymen who'd swarmed their house as it underwent renovation," Serratura muses, although he believes that her leaving is just a threat. And there is something a bit too eager about this traveling salesman that is also a bit off.
As Serratura arrives in Berlin and secures his lodging at the weird Pension Aryana away from the campus where the symposium is being held, we begin to have forebodings of danger. There are riots in the streets to protest "the cowboy" Reagan's visit, youths throwing rocks and such; and at the pension Fritz, the proprietor and his sister Frieda, ("nutty as a breadfruit," Fritz informs Serratura) seem a bit odd. Furthermore, Serratura seems somewhat adrift and ends up that first evening at…
Well, enough of the plot. Mustn't give away too much. Suffice it to say that things turn quirky and odd and then bizarre and then something beyond bizarre. Mirolla's structure has the narrative return to Dr. Ryle who continues to read from Serratura's novel as the search for Chiavetta continues, so that we go back and forth from one reality to another.
In the end it is not entirely clear what is real and what is not. Much of what Serratura experiences did not or could not have happened outside his increasingly deranged mind, yet what is described in the final scene may be the truth about what happened to the author Chiavetta himself. Clearly Mirolla's intent is to play with reality just as philosophers play with reality, philosophers who, in the postmodern interpretation, cannot decide what is real and what is not real, or whether we can ever know, or even whether a question about reality even makes sense. A quote from the comedian Robin Williams as Mork in the old TV sitcom "Mork and Mindy" might be appropriate. What he said most profoundly was simply, "Reality, what a concept!"
Judging from the reality/unreality of this very interesting novel, I think that Mirolla would identify with that point of view, as do I.
Bottom line: a diabolic, rough-edged, violent and decidedly unPC black comedy of a novel with a few loose ends, well and humorously rendered.
--Dennis Littrell, author of the mystery novel, “Teddy and Teri”