How to judge the tons of paternalistic and obvious literature? Obscene business
When social fashions spread in literature, moralizing, it's always a bad sign, especially for literature. Like the workerist narrative, the feminist one, taking into account that I yawn even with Verga's vanquished (great writer, for goodness sake), with neorealist raggedness, not to mention the boys in Pasolini's life, let's tell the truth: who reads them anymore? Maybe because true literature is always universal, this is why Proust didn't even care about the First World War.
 
Like migrants today. Not migrants per se, poor things, but the migrant novel, Maybe everything that is tear-jerking and edifying only edifies me as a huge pain in the ass. With Alessandro Baricco who last year even tried to pass off a classic like Steinbeck's Fury as a novel about migrants arriving in our country, that if you had never read it would make you want to, but luckily Furore is not what Baricco tells you, it is not a book by Baricco.
Almost one migrant novel comes out every month. Last complaint arrived I was a foreigner (Bompiani) by Salvatore Maira, where Karim and Saro are, one from Africa, the second from Sicily, the first mugs an old lady, the second becomes his friend (Who cares about the old lady), A friendship is born between the two that not even in Dolce Remì, then there is also a nun who hosts an Egyptian family, very tender, in a country, Italy, so racist that Nazi Germany looks like Las Vegas by comparison. But the great thing is that of all these here, after thirty pages, we don't give a damn, you have to be at least Zola, considering that Zola was already boring compared to the heights reached by a Flaubert and a Proust.
But it's there too, fresh hot off the press, I Khaled sell men and I am innocent (Einaudi) by Francesca Mannocchi, and the gist is all in the title, poor things even those who work as migrant merchants in Libya, like this Khaled, you have to understand them, because «they call us merchants of death, they call it illegal immigration. I'm just the legal thing in this country. I take what's mine, I pay everyone their share. And also the sea, even the sea keeps some of its merchandise".
I don't understand why instead of writing insipid novels with a vomiting pietism like these, the authors don't get invited to one of the many talks present, a nice debate and off we go, at least the libraries are safe.
Also because in recent years more books about migrants have landed than migrants. This story of Mannocchi, so to speak, had already been written by Andrea Di Nicola with Confessions of a human trafficker (Chiarelettere), if you wanted that was enough, nope. Anna Bono had written Migrants!? Migrants!? Migrants!? (Sign Editions), with great waste of question marks and exclamation marks, Francesco Rocco Oliva a beautiful The song of migrants (goWare), where he tells us about Jusuf, Laila and many others, who landed in Lampedusa «find a humanity that welcomes them but does not love them». Reading these books it seems like we are opening a camp a day. Or there is Domenico di Cesare with Migranti (Castelvecchi), certainly even in the titles that are imaginative, and complete with a preface by Erri De Luca, because it seemed to you that Erri De Luca didn't sign a preface to a book on migrants? Among other things, I would even be willing to take a thousand more migrants if I could send Erri De Luca to Libya in exchange, and I would welcome another ten thousand if we could also exchange Roberto Saviano.
However, Castelvecchi doesn't have time to publish Migrants before he immediately publishes another one, fundamental book by Paola Gandolfi, a title a program: We migrants, subtitle For a poetics of relationships, fuck, how can we miss it, to live without this poetics.
This migrant book business has been going on for a decade now, the titles cannot be counted, there are also the voices of migrant women (but no one thought about gay migrants, for example, what assholes), the Migrant Writers, involuntary migrants, Migrant families, Migrant Trajectories (then and there I had read Trattoria migranti, I thought it was a restaurant guide for refugees), I have traveled this far. Stories of young migrants, and I'll stop here otherwise you'd need a telephone directory to list them all. I'm just wondering how much they sell for and what they're for, because apart from the fact that put all together they will have deforested half the Amazon, even to me, that the only party I am a member of is the radical one, they make you want to vote for Salvini, and believe me it takes it.
source – http://www.ilgiornale.it/news/spettacoli/ci-sono-pi-migranti-libreria-che-mare-1646240.html?mobile_detect=false