Gaetano Savatteri

Saverio Lamanna was the spokesperson for a prominent politician and was brutally dismissed after drafting a press release stating that his boss supported the liberalization of cannabis. Was it an error, or did Saverio simply wish to walk away from a job he no longer enjoyed? We do not know; at any rate, he was forced to leave Rome and return to Sicily, moving into his parents' house in the small, quiet village of Màkari, near the more renowned resort of San Vito Lo Capo. It is the house where he spent his childhood, deeply cherished by his mother, who had passed away some years prior. The book consists of four short stories, previously published by Sellerio in earlier collections; brief tales bound by the same common thread: «we often look for the big game, but sometimes the game is small». When set against our conventional view of Sicily, where everything is traced back to the Mafia, Saverio introduces us to an island far closer to home than we might suppose. It is the same approach adopted by other Sicilian authors, such as Andrea Camilleri and Cristina Cassar Scalia (see the review of *Sabbia nera* on this site). One might wonder whether this pursuit of ordinary crimes does not end up diverting attention from the fight against the Mafia, understandable though the weariness with stereotypes and crude readings of Sicily may be. In the first story, *Il lato fragile*, a prominent figure in the war against the Mafia is killed by a boy, a fragile youth under the care of a priest who is likewise an adversary of Mafia society. It might appear to be a Mafia-related hit or a sexually motivated crime. Could that be true? In *Il fatto viene dopo*, a friend of Saverio's has been fired from the firm where he had worked for many years; he asks Saverio, who has in the meantime become a celebrated author, if he would tell his sad tale: > there is still someone who believes in books, right now when they are of virtually no use anymore . But crafting literature is one thing, and real life—where events can take a turn for the worse—is quite another. In the third story (*La regola dello svantaggio*), Saverio's house has been leased for the summer without his knowledge: he intends to file a police report, but the shrewd real estate agent reminds him that it is better not to play the disadvantage rule, just as in football when play is waved on after a foul. Saverio would have to explain why he accepted under-the-table cash, the French tourists would have to testify and be left with a sour memory of their Sicilian holiday, and the island's tourism would suffer were the fraud to come to light: far better to do nothing, «so that everyone is happy». Alongside this quintessentially Italian affair, Saverio discovers that an elderly, wealthy gentleman did not die of natural causes, but was murdered with an overdose of insulin: was it the son, or the attractive young wife? The title of the final novella (*È solo un gioco*) could easily be turned into a question, for behind an innocuous football team lurks a murky secret that may well lead to murder. Savatteri is an incisive and ironic writer. Crime serves merely as an occasion to discourse lightly on Italy, without taking oneself too seriously and without any illusion of changing anything. The characters are very well drawn, and the Sicilian setting (Palermo, Màkari and its beach, the island's mythical cuisine) is depicted with charm; yet there is perhaps too much dialogue, often repetitive and tedious. The fundamental flaw is the total absence of suspense and mystery—the core ingredients of any compelling noir. Why not read these stories? Tedious, overlong, and devoid of suspense, albeit amusing at times.