I will never see this book.
It will be printed after I have given my soul to God.
By now we are almost there.
I will not tell you my story, but the only great love of my life.
She has already written it and I have read it.
It is the three-act tragedy of an emigrant lawyer and a bland betrayal, which we did not deserve.
It is the story of a Cain hidden behind a name as innocent as Abel.
It is a story of redemption and atonement, of an authentic obsession consumed in the darkness of the years.
But don't be fooled.
Do not believe a word.
Do not believe your eyes.
Because nothing is as it seems.
Is this the reality? Or are they still stuck between the enchanted pages by Massimo della Penna?
Because yes, it is very easy to get lost inside. You start reading and without realizing it, you find yourself running through a crazy and tangled story, impossible to explain and too intricate to be understood.
Is it the story of Judas, a lawyer from Milan, a lover, a father, a friend... or is it the story of Andrew? Or is it the writer's? Or yours?
Am I confusing you? No, it's not me who'm playing with your mind, it's this book.
There are pages and pages of labyrinths, some are to be thrown away, others to be framed.
Is this the story of a life like so many, or maybe not? It's any story that is manipulated, kneaded, smoothed until a sparkling, involving work comes out of it, with an exuberant, ironic and even exciting narrative!
This is a misleading, humorous, destabilizing and neurotically cryptic book!
When you begin this reading you get the impression of entering a parallel universe.
I swear that when I first looked at the cover, I never expected to find such a text!
It is a complex reading, which contains many other books, authors and films.
The entire plot is written with sarcasm and playfulness, and is immersed in a sea of mystery and illusions.
The narrator (or narrators?) has a direct relationship with the Reader, speaks to him, confuses him, makes him laugh. It also made me lose the sense of reality!
The first thing I do when reading a book is to frame it, decipher it, make it my own, but this time I didn't succeed.
These pages are hidden emotions, laughter, deceit! I, for example, was crazy when I read yet another "I would have liked to know my father so much" or "I never knew my father". When I arrived at those chapters and read those sentences for the tenth time, I silently prayed to the writer to stop torture me and to get to the point, to the final conclusion. But then, I came to those parts where the writer unveiled his soul, his heart, his mind, I could read the words he gave to his daughter, to the love of his life, to himself and suddenly, I no longer wanted to reach the end.
As soon as I finished reading "The Last Abel" do you know what I did?
After reading one of the most explosive, disarming and theatrical finals ever, I returned to the front page to read it again. Why?
Because I needed to decrypt him, I wanted to understand him, I wanted to see him without secrets and without that humorous shield of his that hid his bloody soul from me. But the point is precisely this, my dear Readers: this book, like life, is too crazy to be truly understood, it must simply be embraced, accepted, lived.
In the pages of this book it is impossible not to stop to think about life, its absurdities, its problems, prejudices, jokes that malignantly reserves you, you can not remain immune, not to be touched by the messages that tacitly wants to send you.
Do I recommend this reading?
Oh yes, I'm sure I'll recommend it, so that you can get lost in the shadows and lights of life.
Cheque to the book:
4 out of 5 stars
**From the book: **
Without the grammar and logic of Love, a swan is a stinking animal. The moon is a slice of cheese, the grass fields stupid dark pistachio spots, a sunset is just an underexposed purple photo and the raging winter sea just brings arthrosis.
Law firms are places populated by strange creatures.
Where they teach you to change a Ciccybello, they painfully fail to tell you that the real Ciocciobelli cry and weave much more and do not divide them with twenty companions of course (...).
The truth is that I have (we have) given you to the world. You are not mine, you have never been, you will never be.
(...) ever further away from my arms, which today have the privilege of cradling you every night, every day, of embracing you every where, every when, every always, an ever that I know is not forever but is here and now (...)".
Happiness terrifies us because it makes life worth living, in strong pastel colours, it is a life from which it is difficult to separate oneself.