I closed the last page of last Baricco and I do not know what to say. I loved Castles anger, Ocean and Sea twentieth century. The next one, no. But I continued to follow his thinking in the newspapers, because intelligent. Although attacked and attaccabilissimo (see the release of last spring on the theaters and funding culture).
Emmaus is a Baricco I did not expect, so I take my hat: the latter were become a cliché, a trademark. Well executed, of course, but with little emotion.
thousand years ago I heard him at a conference, a guest of the Faculty of Political Science, calling artists to talk about the work of art, creativity. He said something that I always remained in the lead, who came to my head every time I enter the library to choose a new book to read. "If you buy my book - he said - buy a ticket for a trip." The promise to the public that he had asked a question, telling him that one day he pretended to go to work - at the factory, I think - but then he called his foreman to malinger, had waited in the bar in front of a house wife and daughter went to school and working to retrace his steps, get under the covers and read a book by Baricco, can not remember which.
Well, perhaps the journey of which I have been a guide Baricco with Emmaus I just care a little.
There are four boys, sixteen or so. Growth in faith, because it wanted the families, because so life guaranteed to be easier defined private superfluous, the complex, a delegated elsewhere. Then there's Andre girl from the boy's name (Andrew, in fact), grown in a world that has nothing definite, but not be happier, freer.
whole book - written by God, it must be said - is crossed by a sense of sin. Result: I am nervous. Topical, if we read it in parallel with the chronicles of those days (transvestites, drugs, sex). But, although random, I guess not pander, even this coincidence annoys me too.
Then a dark journey. Here it is: deep and final resignation. They were not so travel-books that I loved Baricco: imaginative.
Well, I do not know what happened to Baricco, why has a novel way. Perhaps it is worth reading, though, but at 139ma and last page of the travel-book are happy to be back home.
