Spatriati

Claudia enters Francesco’s life on a sunny morning, in the school’s entrance hall: it’s a bolt of lightning, the birth of an entirely new kind of desire, which is, above all, the desire for life. Claudia is peerless and self-assured, extravagant; Francesco is introverted, burning with erotic curiosity, dominated by rustic faith, uncertain. She provokes him: did you know that your mother and my father were lovers? But, in the eyes of that meek boy, she glimpses a spark of diversity, she sees herself in him. Claudia finds the countryside stifling; as soon as she can, she escapes, first to Milan and then to Berlin, the European capital of transgression. Francesco stays put and digs inside himself in an increasingly urgent effort to understand who he is. They become adults together, in a symbiotic game of escape and pursuit, in which they always end up finding each other. Mario Desiati depicts the countless complexities of an uneven, fluid, and uprooted generation: his own. The generation of those who are forty years old today and weren’t afraid to stray far from home in order to find their place in the world, of those who truly feel like citizens of Europe. With a poetical yet stinging writing style, capable of great tenderness, after Candore Desiati returns to recount the myriad forms that desire can assume when it is given free rein to manifest itself. Without any fear of plucking the chords of romanticism, without any false modesty as he investigates the coarsest details of eroticism, instinct, and the flesh, Desiati interrogates sex and reveals it for what it is: one of the many postures human beings invent in their search for happiness.