In a small Sicilian town, shortly after the unification of Italy, a new theatre is being opened with an opera for its first production. The unpopular prefect imposes his choice of a much-detested work in English called The Brewer of Preston. This causes local outrage, so the prefect mobilises all of his resources to force the villagers to accept his choice, no buts.

In telling this story Camilleri presents an opera buffa of his own, with a cavalcade of characters and a voluminous array of incident, plot and subterfuge. The story is told out of chronological order, which muddies the waters for the reader. There are simply too many minor characters flitting in and out of this plot to keep track of, and the end result is confusion. In an end-note the author, somewhat disingenuously, suggests that we re-read the story in whatever chapter order takes our fancy. Not a chance. This novel is a mess and I couldn't wait for it to be over. ( )

gave away 2023

La noche del 10 de diciembre de 1875 se inaugura en la ciudad siciliana de Vigàta el flamante nuevo teatro Rey de Italia. Eugenio Bortuzzi, el prefecto milanés que dirige la ciudad con mano de hierro, se ha salido con la suya y ha conseguido programar para su primera función, a pesar de la oposición de todos los vecinos, la desconocida y mediocre ópera Il birraio di Preston. Mientras por las butacas las insinuaciones se multiplican y los rumores más malintencionados empiezan a circular sin freno, el espectáculo muy pronto se acaba convirtiendo en un desastre: la soprano lanza un grito monstruoso, el pánico se apodera de la sala y el desconcierto es total, lo que desencadena una historia de intrigas, asesinatos y revueltas que nos transporta hasta el complejo universo siciliano de la segunda mitad del siglo xix.

Incommensurabile

Sono contenta di aver iniziato a conoscere Camilleri dalle sue storie "poliziesche" di Montalbano. Ho iniziato a masticare il suo siciliano fiabesco, irreale perchè trova poca rispondenza in quello vero, ma così poetico e visionario, così carnale e sanguigno da rispettare nella sostanza la materia di cui è composto il popolo siculo. Dicevo che sono contenta, perchè il meglio era ancora da venire. I romanzi che prendono le mosse da eterei indizi storici come da cronache dei tempi che furono, sono qualcosa di assolutamente imperdibile. La messa in scena di un'opera lirica (Il birraio di Preston) per l'inaugurazione del nuovo teatro di Vigata è il pretesto per raccontare dinamiche, intrighi, intrecci, speculazioni e rapporti di potere realmente fondati e documentati. Molte sere dopo la rappresentazione teatrale, l'edificio va in fiamme, ed ecco che inizia la sfilata dei personaggi, ognuno a raccontar dal proprio punto di vista la genesi di tutta la vicenda. Un esercizio di scrittura notevole ed una padronanza della storia e dei suoi intrecci da lasciare senza fiato. Uno dei più bei libri di questa ambientazione di fine '800. Camilleri patrimonio dell'umanità. L'ho già detto?

As with cinema, when I’m reading something like a Camilleri novel, it’s always possible to discuss its heightened reality. You concentrate life, as one does in theater. The proscenium arch for film is its syntax. Some thoughts arise, like when discussing reality. Imagine you ask someone who is talking about another person, "What are you doing?" They answer, "Well, I'm trying to tell you this and that, etc.” But you look at them and say, "No...What are you doing?" They get somewhat thrown, or agitated, or confused. Eventually lines are drawn. It's such a simple question. But it is really asking for you to really meditate or think about what this whole process of communication is really up to. What rules are being followed...what political system of exchange is really going on? What part of this is really a card shuffling act? What shifts of power are taking place in this exchange? What are you keeping me from noticing? What is being depended on? The question is simple, but the reality of the exchange is buried. There may not be words to describe the real chemistry of the exchange, and there may be issues about the decimation of personality inherent in the query. The many levels of reality that exist do not necessarily lend themselves to what Camilleri desires in his writing. The Italian reality that Camilleri's typing fingers align with, that offer more chance and accident may not inherently bring forth mysteries or truths, or even depths of experience. It's the arrangement of the reality, the artifice of the presentation, the syntax of the language of editing the events which takes place behind the scenes that manifests the gestalt of the experience. I think it was Antonioni who said that if one could explain a film, then it was not a film. Adding more realistic transactions in a design does not promise a quantum leap or realization from the experience. It's the reader, or the film watcher who adds their reality to these set conditions, and ours hearts, conscious and unconscious minds weave pearls of understanding upon them. A book is the launch pad. Whatever reality it contains will always be one of omission. That’s what draws me in to the Camilleri novels. We’re not reading about the “real” Italy (or Sicily to be more precise). What I’m reading is my inner vision of Italy. Nothing else. ( )