Tonight, (Saturday, June 11) at 17 in the library of Castelnuovo BelboI present the book by Daniela Grassi.
When Daniela and I showed up, I felt a shiver of unrest.
A brilliant woman dressed in white with coral accessories who, after ordering cranberry juice, gave me her book. What would have seemed like a nice cute little item was a nightmare for me: not only in a small format (like Adelphi but more manageable), with a playful card and with a beautiful font, not only in the illustration on the cover is there a little girl smiling and a kid with eyelashes embracing under an original drizzle of colored leaves, but the title is Little girls on the trail of relentless passions.
Here we come to my excitement: The prospect of a sickly childish little book.
Instead, the author and I share the same idea of childhood: a sum of melancholy and abandonment.
Because as we grow up, we try in every way rationally to fill the abyss of fragility he will continue to suck us into; it is a tapeworm that, while we try to avoid instead of looking into the eyes, lives off of us.
The idea may seem macabre, but I assure you it is nothing compared to the violence and savagery of some of the images in the book, cleverly hidden by delicate pink brushstrokes.
It is a collection of eight stories, which are shared by the girls’ main character voice.
Carver wrote that to speak of sadness one must remove, turn off, and not add; that the pain is already superfluous and glowing enough by itself. For this, it works to personify the complexity of fragility, fear, and spontaneous passions in the voice of little girls: there is detachment.
Since I am naturally inclined to be much more fascinated by the dark side of life, but at the same time I would like to clarify how much other joyful part there is in this little book, I bring you another reader’s words:
“I’m a kid again. Her stories are the dreams and fantasies I had as a child; I found the same rare atmosphere of the long summers in the city, the mystery of the ceilings and the scents of my grandmother. I rediscovered a world that exists only in the hearts of those who have seen it with eyes full of wonder and curiosity for adults“
Daniela has as a tool a material, gelatinous and dynamic writing that she uses to stimulate us to extract imagination and passion at the bottom of our dark cave.
The stories I preferred are the most macabre, to emphasize the need for a scary way to reach oneself.
The first is History of bones, soft and violent, it shows us a skeleton (in a shade between ivory and sand pink) that is constantly present in us, from features during birth to the end of life. Like Rebecca’s purse with ancestral bones in Hundred Years of Solitude, I found the image of this little creature incredibly comforting, a huge and peaceful little thing to cherish with tenderness.
The second is When you call me, which happens to be referring to the kid on the cover, which I ridiculed. The kid is black, the dark sucking part that we repel and fear, and that we as adults do not care to know, but to hide. Children, on the other hand, play with the unknown, give it a name and talk to it. And then the dark and inhospitable cave, if accepted and furnished, becomes a comfortable refuge.
Daniela has clear eyes and a trembling voice when she tells me that people need to talk about this darkness, to recapture it with consciousness; when he tells me that fragility will save the world because you see what happens when it is not considered.
Created by a wonderful publisher in Matera (Read Against the Wind editions) and illustrated by Erika Suozzo’s sensitivity, take this little book and get to know your wolf.