Giuliana Morandini

The protagonist returns to Trieste to await custody of her son. In an exhausting wait, mingled with encounters and tragic events (the murder of a young woman), the protagonist experiences the sensation of losing herself. > Suddenly, as if that silence had reached its critical point, the air seemed to congeal, shattering into petals that slipped, swaying, along the pale wall. A rapid decomposition, the dust motes fermenting unforeseen transparencies. In that pause, alarmed glances resumed, and a sense of menace took shape in the atmosphere . The sentence I have quoted encapsulates the virtue and the limitations of the book. One is confronted with refined writing, more akin to poetry than to prose, yet the pursuit of preciousness fragments the narrative, leaving the reader in turn disoriented and struggling considerably to grasp the meaning of the whole. Why not read it? It ought to be read in small doses, but I was unable to finish it.