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Via Gemito
È la storia di un uomo che se non avesse avuto una famiglia sarebbe diventato un grande pittore. Federì è un artista, ma deve fare il ferroviere, e al mondo non potrà mai perdonare il destino scelto per lui. E se la prende con la moglie e i figli. È uno di loro, a raccontarne la storia.
389 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2000
309 people are currently reading
4522 people want to read
About the author
Domenico Starnone
43 books776 followersDomenico Starnone (Saviano, 1943) è uno scrittore, sceneggiatore e giornalista italiano.
Ha collaborato e collabora a numerosi giornali (l'Unità, Il manifesto per cui è stato redattore delle pagine culturali) e riviste di satira (Cuore, Tango, Boxer), con temi generalmente improntati alla sua attività di insegnante di liceo.
Ha scritto con costanza su Linus, negli anni '70-'80.
Ha lavorato anche come sceneggiatore; film come La scuola di Daniele Luchetti, Denti di Gabriele Salvatores e Auguri professore di Riccardo Milani sono ispirati a suoi libri.
Il suo libro maggiormente apprezzato, Via Gemito, ha vinto il Premio Strega nel 2001.
Ha collaborato e collabora a numerosi giornali (l'Unità, Il manifesto per cui è stato redattore delle pagine culturali) e riviste di satira (Cuore, Tango, Boxer), con temi generalmente improntati alla sua attività di insegnante di liceo.
Ha scritto con costanza su Linus, negli anni '70-'80.
Ha lavorato anche come sceneggiatore; film come La scuola di Daniele Luchetti, Denti di Gabriele Salvatores e Auguri professore di Riccardo Milani sono ispirati a suoi libri.
Il suo libro maggiormente apprezzato, Via Gemito, ha vinto il Premio Strega nel 2001.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 193 reviews
March 30, 2024
A portrait of the artist as an egomaniac. Starnone examines his relationship to his father, a devoted artist and self-centered, toxic abuser. Nevertheless, while the author doesn't hold back on depicting the explicitly horrible nature of his father, he also depicts the complicated reality of growing up under the oppressive and inevitably influential gaze of someone so strong-willed.
Admiration and accusation, two sides of the same coin. In the early phases of the novel, Starnone expertly exhibits how fragile the peace in a household can be when run by a lothario such as his father. The hypocritical tyrannism of Federi, Starnone's father, creates an environment where every move can be either lauded or ridiculed; living in a constant state of fear, needing to appease his father, renders Starnone almost stagnant in his own development. How can we become who we are in the vacuum of another, especially such a prominent figure of one's father?
I struggled a bit to get into this book. It's dense, heady and very repetitive. Perhaps much like living out these experiences would feel. By no means is it enjoyable or pleasant. However, the power of the narrative builds as you go on. And the end of each section—there are three in total, without chapter breaks—hit hard. Starnone really earns the emotional turns each part takes and by the finale I was surprisingly moved.
This might not be for everyone, but those who like the gritty Neapolitan depictions in Ferrante's work and the examination of parent/child relationships found in a vulnerable memoir will find something to appreciate, if not always enjoy, in Starnone's modern epic.
Admiration and accusation, two sides of the same coin. In the early phases of the novel, Starnone expertly exhibits how fragile the peace in a household can be when run by a lothario such as his father. The hypocritical tyrannism of Federi, Starnone's father, creates an environment where every move can be either lauded or ridiculed; living in a constant state of fear, needing to appease his father, renders Starnone almost stagnant in his own development. How can we become who we are in the vacuum of another, especially such a prominent figure of one's father?
I struggled a bit to get into this book. It's dense, heady and very repetitive. Perhaps much like living out these experiences would feel. By no means is it enjoyable or pleasant. However, the power of the narrative builds as you go on. And the end of each section—there are three in total, without chapter breaks—hit hard. Starnone really earns the emotional turns each part takes and by the finale I was surprisingly moved.
This might not be for everyone, but those who like the gritty Neapolitan depictions in Ferrante's work and the examination of parent/child relationships found in a vulnerable memoir will find something to appreciate, if not always enjoy, in Starnone's modern epic.
dismiss-ed
July 7, 2022I gemiti son quelli del lettore straziato
«'E signurine 'e Capodichino fann'ammore ch'e marucchine, 'e marucchine le dann'a mazza, e po' le rompono pur'o mazz.» Esattamente così. Zoccole. Ullèr'e pistullère, ullèr'e pistullà.
Sono al 20% del libro, può bastare. Non abbandono per colpa del dialetto, sporadico e nella maggior parte dei casi comprensibile, abbandono perché è una super cronaca che di letterario non ha niente. Minuzie e avvenimenti decisivi hanno lo stesso spazio, il padre padrone è descritto con un puntiglio che ne esaspera il discutibile temperamento. Se ripenso a cosa è riuscito a fare Fante con la figura del padre imperante, mi indispettiscono ancora di più queste prime 100 pagine di Starnone. È impensabile che ne abbia spese così tante per raccontare una manciata di anni, seppur bellici. Neanche un diario sarebbe risultato altrettanto particolareggiato, ripetitivo, noioso. La sensazione che si ha è di sprecare il proprio tempo ad ascoltare le gesta di uno smargiasso, ballista, egoista e uno poco artista
Peccato, dopo aver letto “Lacci”, mi ero fatto un film mentale senza fondamento alcuno, avevo arbitrariamente pensato a Via Gemito come corrispettivo di Revolutionary Road, l’avevo collocata a Roma in tempo di pace, non a Napoli in tempo di guerra.
Le recensioni dovrebbero servire a farsi un’idea, colpa mia che non ne ho letta nessuna prima di affrontare il libro.
“Via Gemito” fra i premi Strega che ho letto è senz’altro il peggiore
«'E signurine 'e Capodichino fann'ammore ch'e marucchine, 'e marucchine le dann'a mazza, e po' le rompono pur'o mazz.» Esattamente così. Zoccole. Ullèr'e pistullère, ullèr'e pistullà.
Sono al 20% del libro, può bastare. Non abbandono per colpa del dialetto, sporadico e nella maggior parte dei casi comprensibile, abbandono perché è una super cronaca che di letterario non ha niente. Minuzie e avvenimenti decisivi hanno lo stesso spazio, il padre padrone è descritto con un puntiglio che ne esaspera il discutibile temperamento. Se ripenso a cosa è riuscito a fare Fante con la figura del padre imperante, mi indispettiscono ancora di più queste prime 100 pagine di Starnone. È impensabile che ne abbia spese così tante per raccontare una manciata di anni, seppur bellici. Neanche un diario sarebbe risultato altrettanto particolareggiato, ripetitivo, noioso. La sensazione che si ha è di sprecare il proprio tempo ad ascoltare le gesta di uno smargiasso, ballista, egoista e uno poco artista
Peccato, dopo aver letto “Lacci”, mi ero fatto un film mentale senza fondamento alcuno, avevo arbitrariamente pensato a Via Gemito come corrispettivo di Revolutionary Road, l’avevo collocata a Roma in tempo di pace, non a Napoli in tempo di guerra.
Le recensioni dovrebbero servire a farsi un’idea, colpa mia che non ne ho letta nessuna prima di affrontare il libro.
“Via Gemito” fra i premi Strega che ho letto è senz’altro il peggiore
September 14, 2024
How did I get stuck painting here, in a building on Via Gemito, owned by the railroad?
Shortlisted for the ALTA Italian Prose in Translation Award
Shortlisted for the Oxford-Weidenfeld Prize
Longlisted for the 2024 International Booker Prize
The House on Via Gemito (2023) is Oonagh Stransky's translation of Domenico Starnone's Via Gemito (2000). This was, I believe, his 10th novel but the one that made his reputation, winning the 2001 Strega Prize and still regarded now as his masterpiece, the ur-text, as an article in Reading in Translation's 2021 special on the author has it. But we've had to wait 23 years, and are indebted to Stransky, to be able to access this impressively crafted father-son character study in English.
The first part of the novel, The Peacock, opens with the narrator Mimì recalling a dispute with his father, Federì, over their respective memories of the level of violence displayed in their family home:
When my father told me he hit my mother only once in twenty-three years of marriage, I didn’t even bother replying. A long time had passed since I had challenged any of his stories, with their fabricated events, dates, and details. When I was a boy, I always saw him as a liar and his lies embarrassed me, as if they were my own. Now, as an adult, it didn’t even seem to me like he was lying. He truly believed his words could recreate facts according to his desires or regrets.
Federì came from a humble background, learned to box at a young age, and was employed on the railroads, working his way up to station master. But his real calling was as an artist, with talents which is his view outweighed the opportunities he was given, weighed down by his father's lack of appreciation of his talents, and by his wife, Rusinè, and her family, taking out his frustrations on Rusinè.
Mimì’s account centres on one small but memorable incident for him, in 1948 and when he was a young boy, and, while his father shouted at his mother blaming her for his latest misfortune, was sent to retrieve his cigarettes, finding, to his surprise, a peacock in his parents’ bedroom painting the room with as many colours as my father used to leave on his palette in the dining room. But as his recollection of those moments edges forward his thoughts move back and forth in time, largely recalling his father’s life story, or rather the self-narrative that Federì had constructed:
Even when I was young, I didn't always pay careful attention to him, of this I am certain. Even when I was most entranced or frightened, my mind somehow emptied out, and my thoughts traveled elsewhere. Its hard to say exactly why it happened. Maybe his talkative manner and invasive presence bothered me. Maybe I suspected that there'd eventually be a flaw in the fabric of his stories and soon enough they'd all fall apart, humiliating both him and me. Maybe I confusedly perceived that, behind my enthusiasm for how carefully connected the events of his life were, even at their most critical junctures, there lurked the bitterness of a person who had been betrayed, who had grown cruel because they had refused to accept the betrayal, and who consequently was always only a short distance away from exacting the worst kind of revenge.
Mimì and Federì are diminutives for Domenico and Federico respectively and the story, although the author rejects the auto-fiction terms, has its roots in Starnone’s history.
The front cover of the novel is a reproduction of the 1953 painting Operai che pranzano (I bevitori) [Workers having lunch (The drinkers)] by Federico Starnone, the author’s father, and the second part “The Boy Pouring Water” focuses on the story behind this work.
There’s a story behind The Drinkers that I’ve never told anyone. It has to do with my father’s artistic vocation, my mother’s illness, an artless flow of water, and an arm that was at first too short and later too long. Even now, as I begin to write about it, I feel an ease come over me.
Federico Starnone's painting was not included on the original 2020 edition of the novel, which featured a Albrecht Dürer work instead, only appearing on a 20th anniversary edition of the work. Having access to it, as we also do now in the English edition, certainly enhances one's appreciation of the novel, although the cover only reproduces part of the work - a wider picture is below:
As with the fetching cigarettes/peacock incident, the narrative thread of the second part is the story of Mimì sitting for Federì's sketches for this painting - Mimì the model for the boy pouring the water. While he does so his father tells him, and he tells us, the story of his frustrated artistic career, and while Federì's violent and self-centred nature remains, it becomes more understandable when we see the way his career is hindered by his origins. Although as Mimì comments while attempting to pose as perfectly as he can:
I have decided to hold the pose so well and with such rigor that my father can't possibly complain. I want to see if he'll calm down, if he'll finally stop unloading all his blame on us for getting in the way of his art.
[...]
I want my father to obtain everything he desires so that even if De Stefano becomes more famous than he, even if Lippi is chosen to do another portrait of Stalin, even if Lezoche wins the Mancini prize and he does not, he has no reason to blame me, and I can legitimately wonder, as I may have been wanting to do ever since I saw the peacock in the bedroom with its entire train, if the time hasn't come, cazzo, for him to assume his responsibilities.
( 'Cazzo' a Neopolitan slang obsecenity - untranslated Neopolitan slang a feature of the English novel)
The last section 'The Dancer', features the father's death, but is centred on an incident in Mimì's youth when he found himself attracted to a young woman, but became the unwilling recipient of his father's crude tips on seduction. An interesting feature here is the contrast between Mimi's own memories - where he often admits the sequence of events can't work, or he is unsure what happened when - versus his father's confident reconstruction of his own narrative and life story (even incidents as an infant), albeit a reconstruction that often changes over time (did he spend the war learning painting in occupied France or fighting in Stalingrad for example).
Impressive.
Shortlisted for the ALTA Italian Prose in Translation Award
Shortlisted for the Oxford-Weidenfeld Prize
Longlisted for the 2024 International Booker Prize
The House on Via Gemito (2023) is Oonagh Stransky's translation of Domenico Starnone's Via Gemito (2000). This was, I believe, his 10th novel but the one that made his reputation, winning the 2001 Strega Prize and still regarded now as his masterpiece, the ur-text, as an article in Reading in Translation's 2021 special on the author has it. But we've had to wait 23 years, and are indebted to Stransky, to be able to access this impressively crafted father-son character study in English.
The first part of the novel, The Peacock, opens with the narrator Mimì recalling a dispute with his father, Federì, over their respective memories of the level of violence displayed in their family home:
When my father told me he hit my mother only once in twenty-three years of marriage, I didn’t even bother replying. A long time had passed since I had challenged any of his stories, with their fabricated events, dates, and details. When I was a boy, I always saw him as a liar and his lies embarrassed me, as if they were my own. Now, as an adult, it didn’t even seem to me like he was lying. He truly believed his words could recreate facts according to his desires or regrets.
Federì came from a humble background, learned to box at a young age, and was employed on the railroads, working his way up to station master. But his real calling was as an artist, with talents which is his view outweighed the opportunities he was given, weighed down by his father's lack of appreciation of his talents, and by his wife, Rusinè, and her family, taking out his frustrations on Rusinè.
Mimì’s account centres on one small but memorable incident for him, in 1948 and when he was a young boy, and, while his father shouted at his mother blaming her for his latest misfortune, was sent to retrieve his cigarettes, finding, to his surprise, a peacock in his parents’ bedroom painting the room with as many colours as my father used to leave on his palette in the dining room. But as his recollection of those moments edges forward his thoughts move back and forth in time, largely recalling his father’s life story, or rather the self-narrative that Federì had constructed:
Even when I was young, I didn't always pay careful attention to him, of this I am certain. Even when I was most entranced or frightened, my mind somehow emptied out, and my thoughts traveled elsewhere. Its hard to say exactly why it happened. Maybe his talkative manner and invasive presence bothered me. Maybe I suspected that there'd eventually be a flaw in the fabric of his stories and soon enough they'd all fall apart, humiliating both him and me. Maybe I confusedly perceived that, behind my enthusiasm for how carefully connected the events of his life were, even at their most critical junctures, there lurked the bitterness of a person who had been betrayed, who had grown cruel because they had refused to accept the betrayal, and who consequently was always only a short distance away from exacting the worst kind of revenge.
Mimì and Federì are diminutives for Domenico and Federico respectively and the story, although the author rejects the auto-fiction terms, has its roots in Starnone’s history.
Via Gemito is a novel, that is, it’s neither an autobiography nor a biography. I brought it to life by taking a pinch of reality (real names, real places, and events that really happened) and then using my imagination to dig deep, exactly like I have done with my other books. To make it clear, in general I work with sources – data from memory or anecdotes – which on their own, scrutinized with a historian’s rigor, would not take even half a page. But when an obsession animates them and the imagination augments them, they become a long uninterrupted story.
The front cover of the novel is a reproduction of the 1953 painting Operai che pranzano (I bevitori) [Workers having lunch (The drinkers)] by Federico Starnone, the author’s father, and the second part “The Boy Pouring Water” focuses on the story behind this work.
There’s a story behind The Drinkers that I’ve never told anyone. It has to do with my father’s artistic vocation, my mother’s illness, an artless flow of water, and an arm that was at first too short and later too long. Even now, as I begin to write about it, I feel an ease come over me.
Federico Starnone's painting was not included on the original 2020 edition of the novel, which featured a Albrecht Dürer work instead, only appearing on a 20th anniversary edition of the work. Having access to it, as we also do now in the English edition, certainly enhances one's appreciation of the novel, although the cover only reproduces part of the work - a wider picture is below:
As with the fetching cigarettes/peacock incident, the narrative thread of the second part is the story of Mimì sitting for Federì's sketches for this painting - Mimì the model for the boy pouring the water. While he does so his father tells him, and he tells us, the story of his frustrated artistic career, and while Federì's violent and self-centred nature remains, it becomes more understandable when we see the way his career is hindered by his origins. Although as Mimì comments while attempting to pose as perfectly as he can:
I have decided to hold the pose so well and with such rigor that my father can't possibly complain. I want to see if he'll calm down, if he'll finally stop unloading all his blame on us for getting in the way of his art.
[...]
I want my father to obtain everything he desires so that even if De Stefano becomes more famous than he, even if Lippi is chosen to do another portrait of Stalin, even if Lezoche wins the Mancini prize and he does not, he has no reason to blame me, and I can legitimately wonder, as I may have been wanting to do ever since I saw the peacock in the bedroom with its entire train, if the time hasn't come, cazzo, for him to assume his responsibilities.
( 'Cazzo' a Neopolitan slang obsecenity - untranslated Neopolitan slang a feature of the English novel)
The last section 'The Dancer', features the father's death, but is centred on an incident in Mimì's youth when he found himself attracted to a young woman, but became the unwilling recipient of his father's crude tips on seduction. An interesting feature here is the contrast between Mimi's own memories - where he often admits the sequence of events can't work, or he is unsure what happened when - versus his father's confident reconstruction of his own narrative and life story (even incidents as an infant), albeit a reconstruction that often changes over time (did he spend the war learning painting in occupied France or fighting in Stalingrad for example).
Impressive.
December 13, 2022
Via Gemito is probably Starnone's seminal work (Strega prize winner) connecting his previous and future works. It is a brilliant account of father-son relationship and of the ineffable nature of memory reconstruction and fiction. It also creates one of the most unique characters in contemporary literature - Federì, the rancorous rail worker, aspiring frustrated painter, wife beater and irreverent obscene talkative father.
Via Gemito is expected to be published to English-speaking readers in 2023. I don't know why it took so long for a 2000 novel.
I will restrain myself from writing any additional comments as I don't think you can get a more complete review than the one linked below:
https://readingintranslation.com/2021...
Finally, there is a very interesting connection between Ferrante's L'amore molesto (1992) and Starnone's Via Gemito (2000) - both books are set in Naples and have wife-beating fathers who are frustrated painters as key characters, and reading them in parallel has provided me a lot to think on the relationship between the two distinctive Italian writers.
There is a very detailed analysis of this relationship here:
https://lospecchiodicarta.it/2006/10/...
Via Gemito is expected to be published to English-speaking readers in 2023. I don't know why it took so long for a 2000 novel.
I will restrain myself from writing any additional comments as I don't think you can get a more complete review than the one linked below:
https://readingintranslation.com/2021...
Finally, there is a very interesting connection between Ferrante's L'amore molesto (1992) and Starnone's Via Gemito (2000) - both books are set in Naples and have wife-beating fathers who are frustrated painters as key characters, and reading them in parallel has provided me a lot to think on the relationship between the two distinctive Italian writers.
There is a very detailed analysis of this relationship here:
https://lospecchiodicarta.it/2006/10/...
August 14, 2024
A very interesting character study -- I'm not sure I'd call this a novel, exactly -- of the author's father, a talented artist who worked on the railway, attempted to break into the art world, and raged against the challenges he faced -- which included raging against his family, particularly the author's mother Rusinè.
There are vivid depictions of Naples, a clever (if sometimes exhausting) structure, and much to ruminate on with regards to the sacrifices made for art, who makes those sacrifices and on behalf of whom, the nature of talent, the nature of truth in family histories.
It's masterfully done but it is quite long.
There are vivid depictions of Naples, a clever (if sometimes exhausting) structure, and much to ruminate on with regards to the sacrifices made for art, who makes those sacrifices and on behalf of whom, the nature of talent, the nature of truth in family histories.
It's masterfully done but it is quite long.
April 13, 2024
DNF at 50%.
Have you ever been enjoying a book...wait, let's backtrack. Have you ever been satisfied with a book...no, that's not it. Have you ever been reading along thinking 'Yes, I can relate to this', but it goes on for way too long? Ever relate to a story almost too much that you can't go on? Starnone, I get it, your father was a narcissistic asshole and only thought of himself in every manner; providing for your child does not give you a pass for your behavior.
To put it shortly, I stopped halfway through because I had realized from very early on that this was autobiographical fiction that could've been as short as most of his other novels/novellas. Through memories, he recounts what his father did, how his Mom reacted to being with his father (and her death) and how his father's actions created havoc and misery in the family. I didn't need to read the rest to realize the same story is being told over and over.
I'm giving this a 2, even though I didn't finish it because as stated before, I could relate to it, so I didn't read it for nothing.
Have you ever been enjoying a book...wait, let's backtrack. Have you ever been satisfied with a book...no, that's not it. Have you ever been reading along thinking 'Yes, I can relate to this', but it goes on for way too long? Ever relate to a story almost too much that you can't go on? Starnone, I get it, your father was a narcissistic asshole and only thought of himself in every manner; providing for your child does not give you a pass for your behavior.
To put it shortly, I stopped halfway through because I had realized from very early on that this was autobiographical fiction that could've been as short as most of his other novels/novellas. Through memories, he recounts what his father did, how his Mom reacted to being with his father (and her death) and how his father's actions created havoc and misery in the family. I didn't need to read the rest to realize the same story is being told over and over.
I'm giving this a 2, even though I didn't finish it because as stated before, I could relate to it, so I didn't read it for nothing.
July 15, 2021
Io c’ho provato, davvero c’ho provato sono arrivata anche a metà libro questa volta.
“Via Gemito” è sempre stato un libro che alle prime 10 pagine poi interrompevo; lo lasciavo in libreria per mesi, poi lo riprendevo e rileggevo da capo. Questo routine è andata avanti per un bel po’. Ma ora che sono arrivata a metà libro posso confermare che come primo approccio con Starnone forse è un po troppo.
Forse dovevo iniziare con “Lacci”, più breve e si capisce da subito le tematiche che lui vuole affrontare (disfunzioni familiari/padre).
Ció che mi ha portato a non concludere il libro è stato la carenza, secondo me di una trama.
Parla del padre, della sua vita, una miscela di ricordi familiare senza un vero filo conduttore che porta a non affezionarti ai personaggi, ne a quello che fanno.
Se fosse stato 150/200 pagine ok. Ma 400 pagine me par nu poc esagerat.
Fatto sta che comunque proverò a leggere “Lacci”
“Via Gemito” è sempre stato un libro che alle prime 10 pagine poi interrompevo; lo lasciavo in libreria per mesi, poi lo riprendevo e rileggevo da capo. Questo routine è andata avanti per un bel po’. Ma ora che sono arrivata a metà libro posso confermare che come primo approccio con Starnone forse è un po troppo.
Forse dovevo iniziare con “Lacci”, più breve e si capisce da subito le tematiche che lui vuole affrontare (disfunzioni familiari/padre).
Ció che mi ha portato a non concludere il libro è stato la carenza, secondo me di una trama.
Parla del padre, della sua vita, una miscela di ricordi familiare senza un vero filo conduttore che porta a non affezionarti ai personaggi, ne a quello che fanno.
Se fosse stato 150/200 pagine ok. Ma 400 pagine me par nu poc esagerat.
Fatto sta che comunque proverò a leggere “Lacci”
January 15, 2024
I fell in love with the Starnone of the sharp, gem-like short novels Trust (2019), Ties (2014), and Trick (2016). These multifaceted, compact little suckers are dazzling comic dramas that do so much in under 200 pages. The House on Via Gemito, a much longer novel from 2000, was a different beast. Less wit, a lot more anger. It’s an autobiographical novel, and Starnone didn’t change the names of his characters. He’s the narrator, and his dad Federico is Federico Starnone the famous painter. The painting on the cover of the book is one of his more well-known works, and it features heavily in the story.
In this novel Domenico looks back and talks about his dad for 450 pages, what being his child and growing around him was like. It wasn’t pleasant. Federico was a terrible narcissist, an incredibly, unabashedly self-involved artist with tunnel-vision. He was loud, aggressive, mean-spirited, and often violent. He wasn’t physically violent with his children, but he was with his wife, Domenico’s mum. He was a misogynist, a man who would tell his young boys not to ask permission when it came to girls, but to literally grab them and have their way.
This novel is about his challenge to free himself from his dad’s dominance and influence, to chase away the words and beliefs that were instilled in him, to try to be the opposite. In his mining of childhood scenes and experiences, and his struggle to put things in order, to see things clearly, Starnone is also writing about memory.
This is unquestionably, like the other three fictions of his that I loved, a sophisticated, masterful work. I just didn’t love this one, that’s all. It was too long. I love family novels, and this one was unusual, highly focused on his dad’s behaviour and impact, an endless stream of his dad’s personality. And being largely autobiographical, Starnone was probably indulgent for good reason, he really goes deep. But, yeah… The excellent quality of the writing is there, his sentences don’t waver, but it was just too long for me.
Also, it was too long.
In this novel Domenico looks back and talks about his dad for 450 pages, what being his child and growing around him was like. It wasn’t pleasant. Federico was a terrible narcissist, an incredibly, unabashedly self-involved artist with tunnel-vision. He was loud, aggressive, mean-spirited, and often violent. He wasn’t physically violent with his children, but he was with his wife, Domenico’s mum. He was a misogynist, a man who would tell his young boys not to ask permission when it came to girls, but to literally grab them and have their way.
This novel is about his challenge to free himself from his dad’s dominance and influence, to chase away the words and beliefs that were instilled in him, to try to be the opposite. In his mining of childhood scenes and experiences, and his struggle to put things in order, to see things clearly, Starnone is also writing about memory.
This is unquestionably, like the other three fictions of his that I loved, a sophisticated, masterful work. I just didn’t love this one, that’s all. It was too long. I love family novels, and this one was unusual, highly focused on his dad’s behaviour and impact, an endless stream of his dad’s personality. And being largely autobiographical, Starnone was probably indulgent for good reason, he really goes deep. But, yeah… The excellent quality of the writing is there, his sentences don’t waver, but it was just too long for me.
Also, it was too long.
September 19, 2023
A difficult book to read. Not for everyone. It feels as though it was written for therapeutic reasons, an act of revenge, a rant that should have been then edited to remove the repetitive declarations of hatred against his father. He does go on! I presume, by way of demonstration, he is subjecting his readers to what he had to endure from his father. If he didn’t like it, why would we? I can’t help wondering why, despite winning the Strega Prize, it has taken two decades to be translated into English. As much as I admire Starnone’s other novels, I must mark this one down. Difficult to read, too, because men of my generation may recognize something of the father in themselves.
April 16, 2024
Weeks after finishing this book, I am still thinking about it. It is beautifully written and so affecting. I really felt for the members of this highly dysfunctional family. There are no chapters in this book. Instead there are just three long sections. The book didn't feel overly long, but I would have preferred chapters just to have been able to find easy stopping points. I was sorry this one didn't make the Booker International short list and I will absolutely be reading more by this author.
April 25, 2024
Beautiful writing, although sometimes repetitive and quite a slow burn. There were moments when I felt there was too much telling, too little showing.
But it does describe some profound and complicated relationships with the core figure of the father, a narcissistic mitomaniac (which makes most stories unreliable. And you realize how ironic it is to look for reliability in fiction, even autofiction). Federí (the father) is annoying right until the end, when you realize his lies are a survival skill, just like his son turning his eyes away, turning his ears off so as not to see and hear the abuse, the suffering inflicted on his mother. The problem is that closing his eyes makes him miss the loving moments as well.
And then there's Naples, in all its colours, smells, people, sounds and dialect, so vividly described.
My second book by Starnone and for sure not the last one.
3.5
But it does describe some profound and complicated relationships with the core figure of the father, a narcissistic mitomaniac (which makes most stories unreliable. And you realize how ironic it is to look for reliability in fiction, even autofiction). Federí (the father) is annoying right until the end, when you realize his lies are a survival skill, just like his son turning his eyes away, turning his ears off so as not to see and hear the abuse, the suffering inflicted on his mother. The problem is that closing his eyes makes him miss the loving moments as well.
And then there's Naples, in all its colours, smells, people, sounds and dialect, so vividly described.
My second book by Starnone and for sure not the last one.
3.5
October 7, 2018
Un pezzo di vita vera, un'epica familiare in parte autobiografica, una storia raccontata in modo impeccabile.
March 27, 2024
2.5 ⭐️
This novel is a painstakingly detailed (autofictional) character study of an emotionally and physically abusive man, a man who by all intents and purposes we are to assume is Starnone's father, an artist responsible for the painting ( The Drinkers ) on the cover of the book. Starnone details (heavy emphasis on details) the experience of growing up as the oldest son of his narcissistic father, a man who hates and is hated by nearly everyone around him.
Starnone leaves no stone unturned, if you didn't have a handle on the family dynamics and an understanding of his father's personality and ambitions the first (or second or third) time a story was told--don't worry!--you'll get it by the seventh retelling. What could be interpreted as a practice in cathartic writing for the author after his father's death was in turn a grueling and exhausting reading experience.
The more in-depth reflections of how the younger versions of Mimí (Domenico) dealt with the anxiety of his father's presence and the consequences this had on his relationship with his mother didn't come until the second half, when patience had long worn thin. Additionally, anecdotes and stories of Domenico's actual experiences with friends, first loves, etc. do not get mixed in with the tales of his father until the end. These were welcome additions to the story, and I wish they had been more evenly mixed in throughout.
There were a few awkward phrasings with the translation and mistakes in words selected (or probably just typos for some): 'significatively' instead of 'significantly', 'ensured' instead of 'ensued', and at least one (though I suspect several) instance 'even' being used when the original text said 'also/too', changing the meaning of a sentence entirely.
I'm angry that this book is so long because it wasn't bad! Shave 150 pages of redundant storytelling off and the result would be an effective and intense portrayal of a man and the family that lived in his shadows.
This novel is a painstakingly detailed (autofictional) character study of an emotionally and physically abusive man, a man who by all intents and purposes we are to assume is Starnone's father, an artist responsible for the painting ( The Drinkers ) on the cover of the book. Starnone details (heavy emphasis on details) the experience of growing up as the oldest son of his narcissistic father, a man who hates and is hated by nearly everyone around him.
Starnone leaves no stone unturned, if you didn't have a handle on the family dynamics and an understanding of his father's personality and ambitions the first (or second or third) time a story was told--don't worry!--you'll get it by the seventh retelling. What could be interpreted as a practice in cathartic writing for the author after his father's death was in turn a grueling and exhausting reading experience.
The more in-depth reflections of how the younger versions of Mimí (Domenico) dealt with the anxiety of his father's presence and the consequences this had on his relationship with his mother didn't come until the second half, when patience had long worn thin. Additionally, anecdotes and stories of Domenico's actual experiences with friends, first loves, etc. do not get mixed in with the tales of his father until the end. These were welcome additions to the story, and I wish they had been more evenly mixed in throughout.
There were a few awkward phrasings with the translation and mistakes in words selected (or probably just typos for some): 'significatively' instead of 'significantly', 'ensured' instead of 'ensued', and at least one (though I suspect several) instance 'even' being used when the original text said 'also/too', changing the meaning of a sentence entirely.
I'm angry that this book is so long because it wasn't bad! Shave 150 pages of redundant storytelling off and the result would be an effective and intense portrayal of a man and the family that lived in his shadows.
April 11, 2024
That was quite an experience.
Starnone writes a work of fiction about the man his father was (we can assume it is autobiographical since his father's name was Federico and he painted an artwork titled 'The Drinkers' which is in part featured on the cover).
So it is also about his own boyhood, however the character of the father overshadows the boy, his wife, his wife's family, in fact anyone in proximity to him. This is because he considers himself superior. According to himself. He makes it one of his main purposes in life to remind everyone around him of that fact. He can not be taken down or made to think he is anything less than how he perceives himself.
The man's son, the author, will walk the streets of Naples, using these streets - which he tells us, he never ever walked with his father - to navigate numerous anecdotes about the way his father lived his life, the things he said (mostly insults about everyone else), the things he did (working for the railroad as a clerk, beating his wife, painting artworks) and his opinions about various matters.
Federi is passionate about art and believes he possesses great artistic talent, but the art world is full of shit people who nominate their friends for prizes, then their friends create prizes and nominate those friends, therefore keeping him out of these circles. He blames everyone for his lack of success. Beginning with his own father who refused to educate him, in fact his parents abandoned him at a young age and sent him to live with his grandmother.
He becomes a working class man, who sees the most beautiful woman who he takes for a wife, raises four sons and a daughter and spends his time at home painting.
The book is in three sections. The first section The Peacock introduces the character and is the part of the book where you might abandon, because it isn't yet clear why it can benefit any reader to be subject to this psychological demonstration of one of the most extreme versions of the societal system of domination at work. The patriarchy thrives under this system, asRiane Eisler shows in her work The Chalice and the Blade: Our History, Our Future and Nurturing Our Humanity: How Domination and Partnership Shape Our Brains, Lives, and Future
Much of the source material is inspired by journals his father kept, which trigger memories and dates of events he participated in and the artworks themselves are a kind of journal, a record of themese in his life. Part Two 'The Boy Pouring Water' is the most compelling and significant section, it documents the process of creating the largest, most significant art work he would do 'The Drinkers' one that the son would pose for, as would other members of the family and the local fruit and vegetable seller.
The anxiety the young son would feel when he realises that there is a problem in the image, between the character holding out the glass and where he is pouring from will cause contortions of magnitude in him, to try and avoid the disaster he sees coming. His father never sees it and we think for a moment that the drama has been averted, alas no - disaster at the height of pleasure.
So why do we want to read a novel about an egomaniac? And one that was originally published just over 20 years ago (it won the Premio Strega Prize in 2001 and was longlisted for the International Booker Prize 2024, having recently been translated into English for the first time).
It is both a psychological example of the effect a man with no empathy and worse, a need to belittle, insult and induce fear in people can have on a family and it is set against a backdrop of the city of Naples post WWII, a place where allegiances often changed, depending on how they treated people.
It is the historical context and the journey of a working class man trying to break into the establishment of artists, who despite his unruly personality, perseveres and participates as much as is possible for someone who won't allow himself to be intimidated. Everything is a struggle, he will fight to the end. Art 'wasn't fun, it was war'.
In the final part 'The Dancer' the humiliation of the son comes full circle as he enters adolescence and tries to impress a girl Nunzia and his father gives him terrible advice about what to do with women. As if things couldn't get any worse, we learn that young girl has been abused by an Uncle and the son lies waiting for his fathers verdict.
The book ends with a scene that makes the reader pause to reflect on how reliable the narrator is, like the father, he too has the ability to exaggerate, to curate anecdotes and perspective.
To see the artwork of Federico Starnone visit https://starnone.it/gallery2/
Starnone writes a work of fiction about the man his father was (we can assume it is autobiographical since his father's name was Federico and he painted an artwork titled 'The Drinkers' which is in part featured on the cover).
So it is also about his own boyhood, however the character of the father overshadows the boy, his wife, his wife's family, in fact anyone in proximity to him. This is because he considers himself superior. According to himself. He makes it one of his main purposes in life to remind everyone around him of that fact. He can not be taken down or made to think he is anything less than how he perceives himself.
The man's son, the author, will walk the streets of Naples, using these streets - which he tells us, he never ever walked with his father - to navigate numerous anecdotes about the way his father lived his life, the things he said (mostly insults about everyone else), the things he did (working for the railroad as a clerk, beating his wife, painting artworks) and his opinions about various matters.
Federi is passionate about art and believes he possesses great artistic talent, but the art world is full of shit people who nominate their friends for prizes, then their friends create prizes and nominate those friends, therefore keeping him out of these circles. He blames everyone for his lack of success. Beginning with his own father who refused to educate him, in fact his parents abandoned him at a young age and sent him to live with his grandmother.
He becomes a working class man, who sees the most beautiful woman who he takes for a wife, raises four sons and a daughter and spends his time at home painting.
The book is in three sections. The first section The Peacock introduces the character and is the part of the book where you might abandon, because it isn't yet clear why it can benefit any reader to be subject to this psychological demonstration of one of the most extreme versions of the societal system of domination at work. The patriarchy thrives under this system, asRiane Eisler shows in her work The Chalice and the Blade: Our History, Our Future and Nurturing Our Humanity: How Domination and Partnership Shape Our Brains, Lives, and Future
Much of the source material is inspired by journals his father kept, which trigger memories and dates of events he participated in and the artworks themselves are a kind of journal, a record of themese in his life. Part Two 'The Boy Pouring Water' is the most compelling and significant section, it documents the process of creating the largest, most significant art work he would do 'The Drinkers' one that the son would pose for, as would other members of the family and the local fruit and vegetable seller.
The anxiety the young son would feel when he realises that there is a problem in the image, between the character holding out the glass and where he is pouring from will cause contortions of magnitude in him, to try and avoid the disaster he sees coming. His father never sees it and we think for a moment that the drama has been averted, alas no - disaster at the height of pleasure.
So why do we want to read a novel about an egomaniac? And one that was originally published just over 20 years ago (it won the Premio Strega Prize in 2001 and was longlisted for the International Booker Prize 2024, having recently been translated into English for the first time).
It is both a psychological example of the effect a man with no empathy and worse, a need to belittle, insult and induce fear in people can have on a family and it is set against a backdrop of the city of Naples post WWII, a place where allegiances often changed, depending on how they treated people.
It is the historical context and the journey of a working class man trying to break into the establishment of artists, who despite his unruly personality, perseveres and participates as much as is possible for someone who won't allow himself to be intimidated. Everything is a struggle, he will fight to the end. Art 'wasn't fun, it was war'.
In the final part 'The Dancer' the humiliation of the son comes full circle as he enters adolescence and tries to impress a girl Nunzia and his father gives him terrible advice about what to do with women. As if things couldn't get any worse, we learn that young girl has been abused by an Uncle and the son lies waiting for his fathers verdict.
The book ends with a scene that makes the reader pause to reflect on how reliable the narrator is, like the father, he too has the ability to exaggerate, to curate anecdotes and perspective.
To see the artwork of Federico Starnone visit https://starnone.it/gallery2/
July 5, 2023
Having recently read Starnone's Ties, Tricks, and Trust, which are much shorter and more direct, though similarly psychologically fraught, diving into Via Gemito was like being smacked by a tsunami; the history of this family, of this father, Federi, and his mother Rusine, of Naples in the war and post-war years, of a man as a father, husband, but most importantly as an artist, fighting against everything with fists and words and screams and slaps, to get what he wants, to fulfill what he considers his destiny - to be a great and recognized artist, and what comes with that is personal mythmaking, considering himself a man destined for greatness, always moving forward when it does not fully or permanently find him. It's the eldest son, Mimi, for short, whose recollections these are, as he tries to understand who his father was, why he was as he was, the working of his parents' marriage, and, to a minor degree, himself. We learn little about him as an adult, on this trip back to Naples, taking himself to the apartments where they once lived, the train stations where his father worked, the shops, the hospital, etc., except he wants to exorcise his own feelings, wants to figure out what was true and what was confabulation so insistently practiced by his father. The rage leaps off the page, the stories repeated and repeated, in what is clearly at least a semi-autobiographical work. It is not a relaxing read, there is so much of it, and yet despite all his horrific traits, his self-absorption, I eventually found myself sympathizing and empathizing with Federi. To know what you should do with your life, to be hamstring by one's own choices, to have to battle - and lose - against corrupt practices, always being an outsider despite what is clear and great talent, it would be hard for most people not to simply give up. Here, his family became his punching bags, and this is a brutal and edifying portrait of this man in his time.
Thanks to Netgalley and Europa Editions for the ARC.
Thanks to Netgalley and Europa Editions for the ARC.
October 21, 2013
Napul’è mille culure
Al di là degli aspetti autobiografici e dell’analisi del complesso rapporto fra padre e figlio, in questo romanzo quel che colpisce maggiormente è la straordinaria efficacia con cui viene dipinto il personaggio di Federì, il padre del narratore, ferroviere ed artista, vitalissimo e ombroso, vittimista e millantatore, accentratore e violento (più verbalmente che fisicamente, a dire il vero), in permanente conflitto con la famiglia, con la città, con il mondo intero.
Personaggio originale e intenso che, in barba a tutte le contraddizioni di cui sopra, attraversa la vita con incrollabile fiducia in sé stesso seppure rendendo un inferno l’esistenza dei suoi cari, la moglie e i figli, dominati dalla personalità di questo istrione, estremo finanche nelle sue espressioni che vanno da un turpiloquio denso di colorite bestemmie e insulti a dissertazioni artistiche e filosofiche che non ammettono repliche.
Il romanzo è poco equilibrato come il suo protagonista, forse troppo lungo, tende in alcune parti (come nell’infanzia di Federì) ad appesantirsi esprimendosi con una verbosità monocorde che giustifica il fastidio provato da alcuni lettori.
Ma il quadro d’assieme, la Napoli miserabile del dopoguerra in cui ognuno si arrabatta per trovare il proprio posticino al sole, la famiglia numerosa e piena di diramazioni, zii e cugini, l’ambiente artistico napoletano impegnato nel compromesso e nel sotterfugio col politico o col critico d’arte di turno (almeno così Federì vede quel mondo, non sappiamo se per lungimiranza o per l’ennesimo ricorso all’esasperato vittimismo), rappresentano un affresco che si imprime indelebilmente nella memoria attraverso una miriade di episodi, di colori, di odori e di personaggi che ostentano un’appassionata teatralità come un elemento inscindibile dall’anima della città di Napoli e dei suoi abitanti.
Al di là degli aspetti autobiografici e dell’analisi del complesso rapporto fra padre e figlio, in questo romanzo quel che colpisce maggiormente è la straordinaria efficacia con cui viene dipinto il personaggio di Federì, il padre del narratore, ferroviere ed artista, vitalissimo e ombroso, vittimista e millantatore, accentratore e violento (più verbalmente che fisicamente, a dire il vero), in permanente conflitto con la famiglia, con la città, con il mondo intero.
Personaggio originale e intenso che, in barba a tutte le contraddizioni di cui sopra, attraversa la vita con incrollabile fiducia in sé stesso seppure rendendo un inferno l’esistenza dei suoi cari, la moglie e i figli, dominati dalla personalità di questo istrione, estremo finanche nelle sue espressioni che vanno da un turpiloquio denso di colorite bestemmie e insulti a dissertazioni artistiche e filosofiche che non ammettono repliche.
Il romanzo è poco equilibrato come il suo protagonista, forse troppo lungo, tende in alcune parti (come nell’infanzia di Federì) ad appesantirsi esprimendosi con una verbosità monocorde che giustifica il fastidio provato da alcuni lettori.
Ma il quadro d’assieme, la Napoli miserabile del dopoguerra in cui ognuno si arrabatta per trovare il proprio posticino al sole, la famiglia numerosa e piena di diramazioni, zii e cugini, l’ambiente artistico napoletano impegnato nel compromesso e nel sotterfugio col politico o col critico d’arte di turno (almeno così Federì vede quel mondo, non sappiamo se per lungimiranza o per l’ennesimo ricorso all’esasperato vittimismo), rappresentano un affresco che si imprime indelebilmente nella memoria attraverso una miriade di episodi, di colori, di odori e di personaggi che ostentano un’appassionata teatralità come un elemento inscindibile dall’anima della città di Napoli e dei suoi abitanti.
Read
April 8, 2024حوصلهٔ من رو سر برد. نتونستم تمامش کنم.
April 6, 2024
Si torna a casa per rivedere ciò che è stato, per sentire i profumi, per osservare le pareti dove un tempo era appeso un lenzuolo troppo grande, bianco, che copriva tutto il muro. Si torna a casa per scrivere.
Un romanzo bellissimo, vivo, colorato. Leggerò altro di Starnone perché mi piace, e pure tanto.
Un romanzo bellissimo, vivo, colorato. Leggerò altro di Starnone perché mi piace, e pure tanto.
March 20, 2022
Ben scritto ma monotono
Il ricordare di un figlio sul proprio padre:un lunghissimo e ripetitivo monologo sui suoi difetti,sul suo egoismo,sul suo protagonismo,sulla sua violenza:lo odiamo anche noi, lo vorremmo vedere morto e sconfitto!E' un bugiardo cattivo e insensibile che si attribuisci imprese e meriti di ogni tipo.Ma ecco che finalmente quando il figlio adulto si decide a ripercorrere i luoghi della sua infanzia per smascherarlo e ridurlo a ciò che merita dando così soddisfazione anche a noi lettori, ecco che il figlio stesso sembra essere preso da una spossatezza incomprensibile che gli impedisce di portare a termine ogni ricerca iniziata. Un libro un po' esasperante e monotono che però si fa leggere tutto perché accende in noi un bisogno di vendetta e chiarimento contro tutto ciò che è egoismo,prepotenza,violenza e ignoranza.
Il ricordare di un figlio sul proprio padre:un lunghissimo e ripetitivo monologo sui suoi difetti,sul suo egoismo,sul suo protagonismo,sulla sua violenza:lo odiamo anche noi, lo vorremmo vedere morto e sconfitto!E' un bugiardo cattivo e insensibile che si attribuisci imprese e meriti di ogni tipo.Ma ecco che finalmente quando il figlio adulto si decide a ripercorrere i luoghi della sua infanzia per smascherarlo e ridurlo a ciò che merita dando così soddisfazione anche a noi lettori, ecco che il figlio stesso sembra essere preso da una spossatezza incomprensibile che gli impedisce di portare a termine ogni ricerca iniziata. Un libro un po' esasperante e monotono che però si fa leggere tutto perché accende in noi un bisogno di vendetta e chiarimento contro tutto ciò che è egoismo,prepotenza,violenza e ignoranza.
did-not-finish
June 15, 2023Love the beginning. A novel of dire delusions. The narrator's voice has been infected by the false braggadocio of his father, a paternal figure defined entirely by his incessant storytelling, a gift and a curse (which clearly parallels the narrator's role as writer). In recounting the past, the narrator's inflection becomes indistinguishable from what his father has probably told him. A wonderful reality for a man who writes this novel as a form of exorcism. Anyway, regardless of an accomplished sense of perspective, I put this down, because I realized that I really feel no desire to pick it up after putting it down. I got through half of it. Very much a story with no plot, just scattered memories in loose chronology. Interesting and periodically moving. Genuinely loved certain chunks, but I can't commit to double what I've gone through.
April 17, 2024
This book is called a novel, but really it falls somewhere in the realm of autofiction and memoir. This is Starnone's memories of his overbearing, arrogant, and selfish artist father (the painter of the cover image--which is magnificent). He narrates his childhood memories of paintings, moving, his father's need to be in control and feel important, his father's hatred of his wife's relatives, his downplaying of illness to avoid spending money on doctors, while he happily spent money on his art.
I found the first 150-200 pages to be quite interesting. The next 250 pages were repetitive and just tiring.
There are 3 sections and no chapters--so no breaks. This is 450 pages of words.
I found the first 150-200 pages to be quite interesting. The next 250 pages were repetitive and just tiring.
There are 3 sections and no chapters--so no breaks. This is 450 pages of words.
January 2, 2025
Like My Brilliant Friend, but if it were My Brilliant (and Infuriating and Fascist) Father.
By the man who was once thought to be the writer behind Elena Ferrante, The House on Via Gemito is a story of the son of a Neapolitan man who is convinced he should have been a famous artist, but never quite made it. His artistic passion has violent and frustrating effects on his family, and much of the novel explores the son’s conflicting feelings of admiration and hate, disbelief and awe, towards his father. The ultimate sadness of the book is the relative elusive nature of his mother, who, despite the narrator’s immense love and pride, can never stand as a character in her own right in a story that is ultimately about the narrator’s self-centred father.
Overall, I really loved this. Starnone really gets to the heart of the father-son relationship, and I was underlining so many passages to return to. There are some delightful explorations of the blurred boundaries between truth, memory, fact and fiction, but I enjoyed the book most when the narrator is really digging into his emotions and relationship with his father. The painting on the cover is by Domenico Starnone’s own father and I’m intrigued how much of the narrator’s father is based on him…
That’s not to say it didn’t have its weaknesses. There isn’t much motion in the present day which did cause some stodgy moments as I was reading, particularly at the start. Another thing that did cause me to feel frustrated (as the narrator too felt frustrated, so not necessarily a negative comment on the book) was that a lot of the narrative drive comes from the narrator’s father’s past and his version of events, which is difficult at times as the dad is prone to extensive exaggeration and outright lies, not to mention fascism, homophobia, racism and misogyny. I guess it was sometimes difficult to get through passages that lacked direction when the person leading it was pretty unlikeable and entirely unaware how unlikeable he was (even if the narrator is very aware).
I enjoyed Oonagh Stransky’s decision to leave in a lot of the Neapolitan words, particularly where their cluster of consonants made clear their offensive meaning; in general, it was good to read yet another gritty (or gooey?) depiction of post-war Naples (always chasing that Elena Ferrante high). Interested to read more!
By the man who was once thought to be the writer behind Elena Ferrante, The House on Via Gemito is a story of the son of a Neapolitan man who is convinced he should have been a famous artist, but never quite made it. His artistic passion has violent and frustrating effects on his family, and much of the novel explores the son’s conflicting feelings of admiration and hate, disbelief and awe, towards his father. The ultimate sadness of the book is the relative elusive nature of his mother, who, despite the narrator’s immense love and pride, can never stand as a character in her own right in a story that is ultimately about the narrator’s self-centred father.
Overall, I really loved this. Starnone really gets to the heart of the father-son relationship, and I was underlining so many passages to return to. There are some delightful explorations of the blurred boundaries between truth, memory, fact and fiction, but I enjoyed the book most when the narrator is really digging into his emotions and relationship with his father. The painting on the cover is by Domenico Starnone’s own father and I’m intrigued how much of the narrator’s father is based on him…
That’s not to say it didn’t have its weaknesses. There isn’t much motion in the present day which did cause some stodgy moments as I was reading, particularly at the start. Another thing that did cause me to feel frustrated (as the narrator too felt frustrated, so not necessarily a negative comment on the book) was that a lot of the narrative drive comes from the narrator’s father’s past and his version of events, which is difficult at times as the dad is prone to extensive exaggeration and outright lies, not to mention fascism, homophobia, racism and misogyny. I guess it was sometimes difficult to get through passages that lacked direction when the person leading it was pretty unlikeable and entirely unaware how unlikeable he was (even if the narrator is very aware).
I enjoyed Oonagh Stransky’s decision to leave in a lot of the Neapolitan words, particularly where their cluster of consonants made clear their offensive meaning; in general, it was good to read yet another gritty (or gooey?) depiction of post-war Naples (always chasing that Elena Ferrante high). Interested to read more!
March 30, 2024
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘢 𝘎𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘰 is the story of a man, Federí who wants to do great things rather than be a great person, yet his son, Mimí asks “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯?”.
Federí is a railroad worker who dreams of becoming a successful painter. Federí is abusive, volatile, and controlling towards his wife Rusinè, and often blames others for his shortcomings and misfortunes. Federí loves being the centre of attention and tends to exaggerate and embellish his stories. Despite having some success as a painter, Federí thinks he is a great artist and that the world is conspiring against him.
The story is narrated by Federí’s son, Mimí, who is well aware of his father’s flaws. The only time Federí seems happy is when he is painting, which he describes as being in a state of grace. However, his obsession with becoming a successful painter causes him to neglect his family and treat them poorly.
“𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.”
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘢 𝘎𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘰 is a well-written and engaging story that depicts the recurring pattern of abuse and manipulation within a family. The story is set in Naples, Italy, during the 1960s. Although I enjoyed reading it, I found some parts of the story overly detailed and repetitive. In my view, the novel could have been shorter without losing its essence.
3.5 ⭐️
Federí is a railroad worker who dreams of becoming a successful painter. Federí is abusive, volatile, and controlling towards his wife Rusinè, and often blames others for his shortcomings and misfortunes. Federí loves being the centre of attention and tends to exaggerate and embellish his stories. Despite having some success as a painter, Federí thinks he is a great artist and that the world is conspiring against him.
The story is narrated by Federí’s son, Mimí, who is well aware of his father’s flaws. The only time Federí seems happy is when he is painting, which he describes as being in a state of grace. However, his obsession with becoming a successful painter causes him to neglect his family and treat them poorly.
“𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘺 𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.”
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘢 𝘎𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘰 is a well-written and engaging story that depicts the recurring pattern of abuse and manipulation within a family. The story is set in Naples, Italy, during the 1960s. Although I enjoyed reading it, I found some parts of the story overly detailed and repetitive. In my view, the novel could have been shorter without losing its essence.
3.5 ⭐️
March 23, 2024
A fascinating read about a son and his memories of his late father. I really liked the setup of a conscious unreliable narrator. But it got very repetitive to the point I wanted to dnf. I think the book could’ve been 150-200 pages and convey the same message 😅
May 20, 2022
Prostredná kapitola bola úmorne monotónna, prvá a posledná však za 5/5.
December 22, 2023
*note for myself to remember, not a critical review* this book was shockingly painful to read, it was sooooooo repetitive and long I cannot believe this got published as is. I’ve read other starnone books and was looking forward to this one but at 450 pages it did not need to be more than 250. It is incredibly redundant and overly detailed, it is just genuinely uninteresting after a certain amount of reading the same general stories about his father. You can skip around to any of the ‘parts’ and they all are just a continuation of the same essentially.
It’s unfortunate because his father is such an interesting character and the complexity of his relationship with his dad is beautiful but for whatever reason nobody stopped this book from being published in this form. I wish so badly it had been condensed down so I could give it a better review but it was truly one of the most boring reads I’ve experienced in a while. It took me months because it felt like a chore and every time I opened it I would inevitably complain to my husband about how shocked I was that it’s still going on and on with nothing new happening.
Only giving two stars because he’s a great writer but genuinely want to give it one star. Was not enjoyable.
It’s unfortunate because his father is such an interesting character and the complexity of his relationship with his dad is beautiful but for whatever reason nobody stopped this book from being published in this form. I wish so badly it had been condensed down so I could give it a better review but it was truly one of the most boring reads I’ve experienced in a while. It took me months because it felt like a chore and every time I opened it I would inevitably complain to my husband about how shocked I was that it’s still going on and on with nothing new happening.
Only giving two stars because he’s a great writer but genuinely want to give it one star. Was not enjoyable.
December 1, 2010
Ho smesso di leggerlo ad una cinquantina di pagine dalla fine, non solo perché mortalmente infastidita ma anche, lo confesso, per sfregio: non meritava la fatica di arrivar fino in fondo.
Questa penosa penitenza che un figlio, paralizzato dalla volgare prepotenza del padre, si costringe a fare ricostruendo minuziosamente le cupe mediocrità di una esistenza rimuginata e sterile non mi ha lasciato altro che la sensazione di aver perso del tempo. Che peccato....e si che a me piaceva Starnone ma sto racconto sbrodolante poteva risparmiarcelo....spero sia servito almeno a lui.
Anche se.....ripensandoci.....
“Se odii qualcuno, vuol dire che odii qualcosa che fa parte di te. Ciò che non fa parte di noi non ci disturba...” H. Hesse
Questa penosa penitenza che un figlio, paralizzato dalla volgare prepotenza del padre, si costringe a fare ricostruendo minuziosamente le cupe mediocrità di una esistenza rimuginata e sterile non mi ha lasciato altro che la sensazione di aver perso del tempo. Che peccato....e si che a me piaceva Starnone ma sto racconto sbrodolante poteva risparmiarcelo....spero sia servito almeno a lui.
Anche se.....ripensandoci.....
“Se odii qualcuno, vuol dire che odii qualcosa che fa parte di te. Ciò che non fa parte di noi non ci disturba...” H. Hesse
July 22, 2022
Le parole con cui incessantemente Federì si racconta, a se stesso e agli altri, sono le parole di cui il figlio Mimì vorrebbe per sempre liberarsi, fino a distruggerle, per far sì che albero non sia più "albero", come estremo tentativo di liberarsi della sopraffazione. Mentre della madre, che pure gli ha parlato da sempre e gli ha insegnato il linguaggio, restano soprattutto sguardi, impressioni, immagini.
Mentre si cerca di ricostruire la storia famigliare e la sequenza degli eventi, viene rievocata la Napoli della guerra e del dopoguerra e una serie di personaggi che orbitano intorno alla figura del padre, che rimangono nella sua ombra ma sono resi in maniera vivida e vivissima, come fossero dipinti con poche parole.
Recensione sintetica: sì!
Mentre si cerca di ricostruire la storia famigliare e la sequenza degli eventi, viene rievocata la Napoli della guerra e del dopoguerra e una serie di personaggi che orbitano intorno alla figura del padre, che rimangono nella sua ombra ma sono resi in maniera vivida e vivissima, come fossero dipinti con poche parole.
Recensione sintetica: sì!
September 11, 2021
Che dire? Una grande lagna. Bello l’affresco di Napoli e le suggestioni. Bella e concreta l’atmosfera. Ma di questi adulti che non riescono a smettere di essere figli ne abbiamo anche abbastanza. Capisco il rancore verso la figura paterna, che è un sentimento atavico tutto sommato, ma che questo valichi la morte è materia per psicoterapeuti, non me ne voglia Starnone che indubbiamente sarà un grande autore ma in questo caso trovo un premio Strega assolutamente non giustificato.
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March 8, 2020Abbandono per insostenibile esasperazione.
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