I am not used to love stories, I think I have repeated it many times, but the fact is that they continue to give them to me, and I, as an avid reader, cannot watch them end up on a shelf collecting dust: I have to read them. Often at the end of reading I regret it, bored to death by the banality of the story, of the characters, of the plots that already reveal the ending in the second line. But sometimes there are some exceptions, a few pearls in the pile of empty shells!

Obviously, those who gave it to me know me best, or maybe it’s simply a coincidence … who knows. The fact is that when my longtime friend gave me Silvia Avallone’s “Marina Bellezza[1]” I was really very skeptical, but three weeks later I changed my mind. Despite being a Christmas present, it landed in my hands in March, which makes it clear how rarely I can see certain friends, shameful! But this is another matter, the fact is that perhaps reading it in the cold December would not have had the same effect on me. March, with the crazy and jaunty weather goes perfectly with this love story of other times and yet so contemporary!

Not just love.

Five hundred and more pages on the province and on growing in distant places, with a single library and many bars to go to in the mornings, afternoons, evenings. It is the desire of the little girl who gives the book its name to arrive on television, to leave those places that once belonged to her grandparents, racing the celebrity to effort the book.

But at the same time, she shows the other side of the coin, that of the boys who want to go back to work the land, raise bulls.

Marina Bellezza and Andrea Caucino are the representatives of these two factions.

Who among us has not been faced with this Hamletic doubt?

Going, looking for prosperity outside, perhaps abroad, totally changing your life and prospects. Or stay, try to change things in your Country, in your home.

Go or stay[2]

All stuffed with family dramas that I have often read in critics to define “soap opera style” and which, unfortunately!, look like too much the lives of my peers or younger generations with whom I often deal.

Absent parents, alcoholics, intertwining betrayals.

it’s not fantasy, believe me! They are simply a mirror of the society that we don’t want to look at and so we point the finger and shout exaggeration. But is not so. I found nothing overstated in the descriptions of the loss of trust in the “family” system. Perhaps, we should all have a good scrutiny of conscience …


[1] The book has not (yet) been translated.

[2] https://youtu.be/BN1WwnEDWAM

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