The Twenty Days of Turin by Giorgio De Maria

The plot of The Twenty Days of Turin can be compared to the Bermuda Triangle – lots of weird stuff supposedly happens in it, but no one knows why.

Giorgio De Maria’s 1975 Italian cult classic The Twenty Days of Turin, translated into English for the first time by Ramon Glazov, is easily one of the strangest books I’ve come across in recent memory. De Maria, who’s been compared  to H.P. Lovecraft, Borges and Poe, has written one of those modern-day allegories that is open to an infinite number of interpretations: a commentary on the rise of fascism in Italy, for example, or a foreshadowing of the phenomenon of social media. It’s all a bit of a conceptual mess, but no less enjoyable for it.

Our adventure begins when an unnamed journalist traveling to Turin to investigate an incident which took place 20 years before, when a collective insomnia took hold of most of the town’s population, causing them to shamble through the streets and squares at night in vulnerable, fugue-like states. The following morning the mangled remains of the victims are discovered  – their bodies broken at odd angles as if they’d been swung about by the feet. The murderers are never identified and the events remain shrouded in mystery. This dark time comes to be known (conveniently) as the Twenty Days of Turin.

At the same time as bodies are being found, a group of young men travel door to door inviting residents to join a shadowy institution known as the Library. The Library is a place in which average people are encouraged to deposit and read each others private journals. A kind of social experiment created to foster community and relationships, encouraging strangers to connect through the sharing of each other’s deepest and darkest secrets.

Everything could be deposited into the Library: works that were slender or unnaturally bulky, sometimes with a disarming naiveté in a world of slyness. Masterpieces could appear by accident, but they were about as easy to track down as a particle of gold in a heap of gravel. There were manuscripts whose first hundred pages didn’t reveal any oddity, which then crumbled little by little into the depths of bottomless madness; or works that seemed normal at the beginning and end, but were pitted with fearful abysses further inward. Others, meanwhile, were conceived in a spirit of pure malice: pages and pages just to indicate, to a poor elderly woman without children or a husband, that her skin was the color of a lemon and her spine was warping – things she already knew well enough. The range was infinite: it had the variety and a the same time the wretchedness of things that can’t find harmony with Creation, but still exist, and need someone to observe them, if only to recognize that it was another like himself who’d created them.

As the journalist attempts to unravel the layers of mysteries surrounding, and connections linking, the Twenty Days and the Library, unidentified forces are rising against him. Time is running out. And the events of the Twenty Days appear to be happening again.


I read H.P. Lovecraft when I was too young to understand what a horrible and damaged human being he was. I read his work superficially, enjoying the horror stories without comprehending the racist subtext they contained. I think this is how it was for many people, and as a result it can be hard to reconcile the stories we enjoy with the madness (and hatred) of the man who wrote them. The Shadow Over Innsmouth was my favorite.  The premise of a fishing village haunted by alien gods known as the Deep Ones fascinated me. And the formula of the first person narrator, descending into madness, investigating a mysterious evil that he suddenly (and tragically) finds himself the focus of is hard to mess up.  Giorgio De Maria obviously read Lovecraft, too, because he follows that same formula. He inserts interviews, recordings and correspondences – building layer upon layer of false reality until the reader finds herself half convinced that what she is reading is true.

book coverBut Lovecraft is just one in a patchwork of influences. There are a lot of rabbit holes on these pages for readers interested in falling down. Time is measured in intervals of twenty in a surprising number of folktales (For example: Rip Van Winkle and his predecessor Peter Klaus’ naps both lasted that long). And while the victims of the Twenty Days suffered from lack of sleep versus too much – I was still reminded of these older tales in which ordinary people join the games or celebrations of powerful, supernatural beings and suffer as a result.  Like folktales which come to us through an oral traditions of storytelling, The Twenty Days of Turin has an abridged quality to it. It has its own supernatural beings and their minions, who are central to the plot, but whose motivations are never adequately explored. Elements like the Library are introduced seemingly because the writer finds them interesting (rightfully so) or because they embellish the text. Not because they contribute to the overall narrative.  De Maria creates and relies on all these mythological touchstones without bothering to explain them. We are, in a way, being asked to revert to a naive reader. One who embraces superstition as an explanation for the unknown.

The Twenty Days of Turin can be classified as a novella. It takes up only 144 of the 186 pages of the physical book, which also includes two short stories by the same author: The Death of Missolonghi and Phenomenology of the Screamer, tacked on as appendices. There’s also a twelve page Translator’s Introduction. The two short stories aren’t very interesting and I found the Introduction a needless distraction, which is unusual for me. (I am a conscientious reader of forwards, introductions, afterwords and translators notes). But the author’s voice is what pulls you into this story and nothing should be allowed to detract from it. The symbolism and atmosphere are what make up for the overall lack of depth. And, it’s probably no coincidence that the actual, titular story is short enough that, even if your left dissatisfied with the ending and what passes for a resolution of the mysteries, you won’t feel you’ve wasted two hours of your life you can never get back. In this way The Twenty Days of Turin is the rare exception to the rule: the sum of its parts are by far greater than its whole.

Title: The Twenty Days of Turin

Author: Giorgio De Maria

Translator: Ramon Glazon

Publisher: Liveright, New York (2017)

Hello 2018! Some News & Reading Resolutions (shhhh!…. don’t wake Emma)

I began a post on my 2018 reading resolutions a few days ago.  It was so boring I fell asleep. Hell, it was so boring it put my dog to sleep. Don’t believe me? I began with a section on time management. TIME MANAGEMENT. And while that might be a very worthy endeavor, and there are quite a few very good books that tackle the subject, why would I ever inflict something like that on anyone nice enough to visit here?

But I understand why these beginning of the year posts are so popular. I, too, enjoy listening to other readers talk about how they plan to organize their bookshelves, set up their libraries or (my personal favorite) how long they hope to maintain the delusion that they will not be purchasing any books for the next 12 months. I also get a surprising amount of pleasure from reading about all the different challenges, whether my favorite blogger will be spending March reading Japanese or German literature, and marveling at how many books someone will read in the upcoming year. I don’t understand why I find these things so fascinating, but I do.

AND YET…. when it comes to writing about my own goals… I don’t know… if I can’t summon the interest how can I expect others to?

It’s not that I don’t LOVE making lists.  My goal setting usually gets done during slow periods at work in one of the softcover notebooks I carry with me at all times. These notebooks contain lists of review ideas, improvements I want to make to the site, posts/articles I promised to write for other sites, books I want to read, and general non-reading-to-dos. I also like to make diagrams – flow charts with lots of bubbles connected by arrows . Part of what makes this format appealing is that it’s messy and visually interesting.  And how do I duplicate  on a website?

But goals are being set and this is the time to share them  So below are a list of a few I hope to complete in 2018.

1. I’m a judge for the Best Translated Book Award this year, so for the next six months that is going to dictate what I read. But even without my consciously curating, I am still finding connections between seemingly random books.  I like it when the books I read inform each other – when patterns develop. For example: one topic that keeps coming up, perhaps because it is on my mind, is human migration. So many stories in translation are about refugees, expatriates, asylum seekers, immigrants, Diasporas – all pretty words describing a terrible thing: people forced to find new homes. The reasons why men, women and children leave their home countries and what happens to them is a big topic, but I think an important one. And I find myself understanding it better thanks to some great writers. So, while I don’t really like reading by country, I do like reading (and reviewing) books clustered around a specific topic.  I hope to do more of that in 2018.

2. You may have noticed that a Bookwitty affiliate badge has been added to my sidebar. Bookwitty is a website designed to help readers discover books through personalized recommendations and member generated content. You can buy books directly from the site and Bookwitty will ship them to you anywhere in the world for free. (I suppose they’re a little bit like Goodreads, but with a simpler interface and minus the evil corporate overlord).

Today, 98% of books published go completely undiscovered, with major marketplaces focusing only on the 2% that turn into best-sellers. We believe that there is a vast wealth of knowledge, ideas and entertainment in the books that go undiscovered, and it is our goal to help people find the right book for them in that vast catalogue. – Bookwitty

I’ve been keeping this blog since 2009, and in that time I’ve received other offers that would have allowed me to “monetize”. Everything from hosting blog tours and ad content, to setting up an Amazon affiliate or Patreon account. I’ve always said no because I felt it might compromise the quality and integrity of the blog. But I like Bookwitty – I like the site and I like their message. For those who would like an opportunity to support the site financially, they offer a non-intrusive way to make that available, which is nice too. So…in addition to the nifty new badge, book titles in my reviews will include links that takes you to a page on Bookwitty where you can buy the book and I will receive a commission on the sale.  And that’s it.  There is never any expectation on my part or obligation on yours to do so. Just the fact that you come here for your book recommendations means the world to me. Thank you, as always, for your support.

3. I’ve never participated in an official reading marathon before. But this year I have a hella-lotta books to read and too little time to read them. So on January 27th & 28th I am attempting to read for 24 out of 48 hours as part of the 24 in 48 Reading Marathon,  inspired by Dewey’s 24-Hour Readathon. I’ll be posting my progress on social media all weekend long – so check back on the blog, my Instagram account and twitter (it may be the most I’ve ever posted to social media EVER – another marathon event, I guess).  As we get closer to the date I will start putting together my TBR stack, discuss strategies, maybe even train.  It’s all incredibly silly and ridiculous – which is why I am IN.

4. WRITE EVERY DAY – whether I post it or not, I need to get back into that routine.

5. And, finally, for those of you who came here with a burning desire to read about my time management strategies for 2018 and now feel cheated – below are some of the books that are currently rocking my OCD-world.

Check back in the next few days for my first fiction review of 2018 (spoiler: it’s a good one)!

 

 

 

 

 

 

2017 In Review

2017 was not the best year. I am very aware that may be the understatement of the decade, but there it is.  I med an old blogging friend at this year’s Brooklyn Book Festival and tried to explain to him why I’d retreated from Social Media (and the world) – which amounted to a list of the same reasons that everyone who eventually retreats from, and leaves, Social Media (Twitter) gives. So I won’t bore you with the details. Enough to say that I spent most of 2017 on the couch watching television or hiding behind a book. A lot of reading got done but not a lot of writing.

Looking back, though, I see that I accomplished more than I realized. But isn’t that always the way?

I’m still contributing over at Book Riot. You can find links to everything I’ve written for them on my Book Riot Contributor’s Page. I’ve also reviewed for Foreword Reviews, The LA Review of Books, Quarterly Conversation and The Rumpus. Below are 3 which I am particularly proud of:

A few other highlights:

  • In 2017 I read 60+ Books, over half were translations.
  • Books by Women Authors – 10.  This is roughly 30% of the books I’ve read in translation…  to be honest I thought there’d be more. Which just reinforces the fact that unless I make a conscious effort to read women authors, it’s just not going to happen.
  • Languages – 9 (not including English). French, Spanish & Japanese novels made up the bulk of my reading in Translation.  I also read books translated from Yiddish, Italian, German and Korean.
  • Surprise of the Year –  Return to the Dark Valley by Santiago Gamboa, translated by Howard Curtis. I’d never heard of Gamboa before picking up this book and I don’t understand why. I’ll definitely be reading more of his work in 2018.
  • Disappointment of the Year – I really didn’t like The Impossible Fairy Tale by Han Yujoo, translated by Janet Hong. There’s a whole list of reasons I go into in my review of Han Yujoo’s novel at the Rumpus, but for those looking for the hot take:  the book relies on a series of literary gimmicks and clichés rather than substance and structure.  The shame of it is that she is talented enough to almost pull it off, which is saying a lot.
  • I attended both the 2017 PEN World Voices Festival in New York City & AWP in Washington D.C.
  • I’m also a judge for the 2018 Best Translated Book Award, which is something I’ve wanted to be a part of for a long time.
  • And for the first time EVER I managed to complete my GoodReads Challenge for the year!

So that’s it for 2017. I didn’t want to spend too much time dwelling on this past year – I’d rather look to the future.  Check back soon for my post on goals, news and resolutions for 2018.

The Sacred Era by Yoshio Aramaki, translated by Baryon Tensor Posadas

 

Born April 12, 1933, Yoshio Aramaki’s writing comes to us from a different time. His novel The Sacred Era, originally published in Japanese in 1978, has more in common with classic American sci-fi short story writers like Philip K. Dick, Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury—sharing their preoccupation with wonky metaphysics, biblical allegories, and performative misogyny—than with speculative fiction writers working in the present day. He leads readers down the same well-trodden genre path where impoverished young men discover they are, despite an often remarkable lack of initiative, destined for great things. But Aramaki’s brilliant leaps of imagination and use of experimental, non-linear plot structures are too ambitious for the resulting work to be dismissed as outdated or derivative.

Read my full review of Yosio Aramaki’s novel, The Sacred Era, over at the Quarterly Conversation.

My Heart Hemmed In by Marie NDiaye, translated by Jordan Stump – The Los Angeles Review of Books #WITMonth

“WE’RE ALL WAITING for Marie NDiaye’s breakthrough book in English. You’re waiting, too, whether you know it or not. Despite being an award-winning French writer (she won the Prix Femina in 2001, the Prix Goncourt in 2009, was longlisted for the 2016 Man Booker International Prize, and shortlisted for the 2017 Best Translated Book Award) whose first book was published when she was 17, whose work is both regularly translated into English and generally well reviewed by American critics, NDiaye has yet to gain traction with American readers. At 50, she still hasn’t established the niche audience of, say, Michel Houellebecq, a writer with whom she shares nationality, a tendency toward the cerebral, and a provocateur’s spirit (though the nature of her provocations is more earnest and less performative than Houellebecq’s)…”

Why this failure to connect? Click on the image to find out.

Happy Women In Translation Month!