“My side of the story? The only one that matters.”
There are books that make you fall in love at first reading, others where love blossoms over time, and finally those where the spark never ignites, without any precise rules. This book falls into the latter category, but it could be a matter of taste, or of the right chemistry, which perhaps another reader might find.
We don’t know how much of this was the author’s intention, but we found the writing disjointed, as if we were faced with many thoughts forced through a small door, without any order, and the first one to force its way through was then left to settle on the pages. The plot also seemed to us to be the product of a stream of consciousness full of steep gradients, where the important thing for the reader (or at least for us) was to stay alive, not to enjoy the scenery.
The author reconstructs various versions of herself, to get to know herself and delve deeper, and to seek the causes of an inner malaise that is perhaps common to all people ready to cross their own shadow line. Perhaps this very quest, in our opinion, could have been written and explored more subtly.
Despite this, we managed to glimpse some interesting ideas, but they were overwhelmed by already known constructs, whereas it would have been better if they had been experimented with in a different way; in line with the name of the series (EXPERIMENTAL).
Perhaps an experimental aspect we didn’t understand was the stylistic form adopted: isolating words in bold, separating paragraphs, and using line spacing that breaks up the reading and makes it difficult. As mentioned before, however, these are personal tastes, which perhaps someone else might appreciate.
We look forward to reading a second work by the author; after all, it’s always a first work, to find the right rhythm of the words, and her own voice.
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Ilaria Grando, Lettere minuscole, Terrarossa, Bari, 2025