Gardini's novel is a whimsical portrait of Milanese pandemonium—set in the 70s in the suburbs of Milan, the novel recounts the life of Chino, a boy growing up in a small apartment with his working-class father and mother (who is the doorwoman of the building). The complex offers a pageant of feverish paranoiacs and gossipers—a vicious seamstress, a man with a squawking parrot, an elderly woman pining for the days of fascism and nostalgically cradling a bust of Mussolini, a mysterious Englishwoman compiling a dictionary, her adult son who is a gay ex-priest. In this tight-nit community, suspicion and paranoia abound. After a break-in at a neighboring building, the residents demand 24-hour surveillance; they insist that Chino's mother constantly guard the entrance, they forbid her to even host visitors for coffee. Their fears constantly oscillate from one imaginary demon to another—burglars and criminals, atheists, communists and crazed revolutionaries, and sexual perverts. All the while, Chino learns from his English neighbor (the "Maestra") about literature, language and politics, discovering that there is a grander world outside this closed-minded condominium. As she corrects his grammar, she corrects his whole world perspective, enlightening him from the delusional neo-fascist fantasies of his neighbors.
In some ways, the novel reminded me of David Mitchell's Black Swan Green, a story also about a young boy growing up, overcoming his own introspective limits and learning about literature and art and culture from an imperious matron. But, overall, it was a little too chaotic and I got lost in the blurry rush of characters.