February 21, 2012

Book review: The Dogs of Rome by Conor Fitzgerald

Hersilia Press @ 10:06 am

This is the first novel in the Commissario Alec Blume series, about an American-born Commissario who has lived in Rome for many years and is now as Roman as the locals. Alec is called to investigate the brutal murder of Arturo Clemente, apparently connected to his involvement with an animal-rights movement and a local mafia boss.

Blume is not convinced the prime suspect is actually guilty, and encounters not only the usual bureaucratic obstacles typical of the country’s system but also what seems to be no ordinary manipulation from up high. He will uncover a crime ring involving organised mafia as well as illegal dog fights.

Blume is a very interesting and credible character, refreshingly he is not a sociopath like many other characters in the fictional world of police investigations, but is a bit stuck in his career path and doesn’t have a very healthy social life. Nonetheless, we are drawn to him and to his American friend who turns out to be some sort of wonder woman – or maybe it’s just his eyes viewing her so?

Conor Fitzgerald lives in Rome and despite few description of places, captures very well the geographical, political and social atmosphere of the city, including the occasionally stifling hot temperature – to which Blume never seems to get used. The book delves into some socio-political aspects of Italian culture like the local mafia, and the illegal dog fights environment, revealing some deeply distressing people and attitudes. It doesn’t however dwell excessively on the politics, which can be a frequent flaw in other (generally Italian) writers, and this keeps the book going at a speedy pace.

The only shortcoming I could find in the book was the typeface, which was very small and sometimes unpleasant to read (especially by night-lamp!). All in all, a very pleasant novel which runs very smoothly for its 400+ pages.

February 7, 2012

The San Carlo Theatre in Naples

Hersilia Press @ 3:11 pm

The Theatre, which features prominently in I Will Have Vengeance by Maurizio de Giovanni, was built in 1737 by King Charles de Bourbon who wanted to have in Naples a new symbol of his power.

The building contract was fulfilled with astonishing precision and on 4 November, 1737 – the king’s nameday – the San Carlo theatre was inaugurated with Metastasio’s opera Achille in Sciro.

On 13 February 1816 the building was ravaged by a fire, but it was rebuilt in only six months.

Now carefully restored to its former splendour, the San Carlo is the oldest working theatre in Europe (older than Milano’s La Scala and Venice’s La Fenice). Its performances were not stopped even during the Second World War when concerts for the armed forces were staged instead of operas.

Composers in residence have included Rossini and Donizetti, and also Giuseppe Verdi wrote an opera for the theatre. By the nineteenth century other composers such as Giacomo Puccini, Pietro Mascagni (Cavalleria Rusticana), Ruggero Leoncavallo (I Pagliacci) had their works performed there.

As well as the traditional operatic repertoire and many nineteenth-century little-known masterpieces, the Teatro di San Carlo has been hosting performances of many eighteenth-century Neapolitan Opera Buffa, including works by Cimarosa and Pergolesi.

Theatre’s official website is here, while the Guardian has an article on the theatre here.

January 9, 2012

Guest post by Iain Halliday, translator of Inspector Cataldo’s Criminal Summer

Hersilia Press @ 6:34 pm

Welcome back and apologies for the long absence! All that Italian food has kept me busy, eating and reading. We continue the guest posts by translators for Hersilia Press with a piece by Iain Halliday, who translated for us the very successful Inspector Cataldo’s Criminal Summer and works at the University of Catania writing on translation. Iain also has his own blog at http://iainhalliday.wordpress.com. Thank you Iain for your post!

Ilaria Meliconi

 

I was very pleased back in 2009 when asked by Hersilia Press to translate La calda estate del commissario Cataldo: in the first instance because I enjoyed reading Luigi Guicciardi’s novel very much and then because I hadn’t translated for some time, having dedicated time to reading and writing about translation – my job at the University of Catania is as a teacher and researcher in English language and translation.

Two affinities in particular that drew me further into Cataldo’s mission to solve the mysterious murders in Guiglia are contained in that last sentence. Like the ill-fated characters of Giulio Zoboli and Luigi Ramondini, I work in an Italian university and consequently know much of that environment. Then there’s the fact that Inspector Cataldo himself comes from Catania in Sicily, the town where I’ve been living for the past twenty years. When Cataldo in one of his homesick moments reminisces about his seafront walk at Ognina with Agata (also the name of the city’s patron saint), I have a very clear vision of where they are. On the culinary front, I also know and much appreciate all those mouthwatering dishes Cataldo lists. And then I know a fair number of men who, like Cataldo, live up to the Sicilian (Italian?) stereotype of being perpetual mummy’s boys.

All these things brought me closer to the text, but ultimately it is narrative drive that keeps us (readers and translators) going. (The translator, of course, is principally a reader, a sort of every-reader, before he or she performs the task of reproducing the text in another language.) Cataldo is a good read: his tenacity, his wry sense of humour and his human interest – both as a character and in terms of his own interest in the other characters he (and we) meet – keep us turning those pages.

Iain Halliday

Older Posts »