Reading of the month

«It is not indifference, nor a clouding of the senses brought on by age, as I had suspected. It is complete mastery of the emotions and a supreme awareness of every precious moment life grants us as a reward, if we have a steady hand and courage… Slowly, Carmine climbs the steps of the Carmelo. Now I understand, old man, the profound meaning of the freedom and joy you felt before you died, and I no longer envy you: I have made your art my own and, from this day forward, it will be nothing but joy to me.»

On the flap of Goliarda Sapienza’s book, it says: ‘A book that captivates and shocks everyone who reads it.’ The phrase bothers me. The book did not, not for a single second.

I did not feel unsettled, much less shocked. It accompanied me as few books ever have. It gave words to so much of what moves through me and to which I had not yet managed to give form. I laughed, cried, thought, felt and lived intensely, without leaving the room where I read it.

I reached the end and, despite its 527 pages, I did not want it to finish. I will miss it. It is one of the most powerful books I have ever read. One of the most important, too. Only someone utterly free could have written it.

The Art of Joy is a masterpiece. For every conceivable reason, literary and human. It silences intellectualism and lays life bare in its most profound and brilliant dimension, without artifice. What a shame that its author was treated so badly during her lifetime. The world is rarely fair, but time always ends up doing its work. It is pages like these that nourish my passion for literature.

Thank you, Goliarda. Wherever you may be.