A simple plot, a parody of a detective story. A policeman is investigating a very simple case. As soon as he feels close to the solution, some extra complication appears, making the case more obscure; again and again, the policeman gets closer to the killer, and every time a new party enters the game: mafia, secret services, political parties, church, you name it.
This small book has been written in 1972, but only published much later. Sciascia started writing it with a lot of fun, and ended in frustration.
Italy’s situation today is even worse. We have a masonic prime minister, accused of bonds with mafia, convicted for a large set of crimes, unconvictable thanks to a self-written and promulgated law, owning the italian media system. Italy has consistently shown the lowest scores on economic growth, information and freedom of speech, as well as law enforcing among the western civilization.
Today there are bloggers that censor comments in fear of political or even criminal prosecution; there are twitters that deride commentators, and some others that even declare that they do not tweet while they are, in the astonishing silence of public opinion. Only Berlusconi’s death might save Italy from his misery.
A review in Italian of this book here.
is not contradicting the expectations set with Gently Disturbed. Besides Avishai now explores influences from his Levant's heritage, giving this work a wonderful Mediterranean atmosphere. But this time he chooses the song as central musical entity, and songs needs lyrics. Cohen is a great musician, but a mediocre poet; his lyrics are terrible, and devastate his songs.
