An emptiness that you carry inside. An absence that makes him faint in the heart of Berlin. To cure himself, Marco must return to his origins. Dig. This is the powerful investigation of «Malbianco» (Einaudi), the novel with which Mario Desiati, already Premio Strega 2022, won the XIX edition of the Prize for Mediterranean Culture, Fiction section, an international recognition awarded by the Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio di Calabria e Lucania: the award ceremony took place at the Rendano Theater in Cosenza. A work that weaves the destiny of a man to the buried memory of a toxic Puglia and to the guilt of an entire generation. Desiati signs an intimate yet universal story, an investigation that becomes necessary literature and, now, a prestigious recognition for Mediterranean dialogue.
«Blank Malbianco» refers to a parasite that poisons trees. How is this symbol reflected in history?
«White sickness immediately seemed to me to be a fitting metaphor to tell the heart of this story. I don’t consider it a family novel, but what I call a tree-novel: a tangle of roots, branches and leaves that encloses and represents multiple generations. White sickness becomes the metaphor of the unsaid, of the unprocessed trauma, which is transmitted from generation to generation. Inheriting a trauma without having faced it means feeding an invisible wound that generates uncontrollable behavior in the way we react to pain. White disease robs trees of their essence. With patience and dedication they can be cured, but we must intervene leaf by leaf, branch by branch. The leafier the tree, the longer and more tiring the cleaning job becomes. The same happens with family ties and the wounds they pass on.”
Marco Petrovici, the protagonist, returns to Puglia to seek answers about his family…
«Marco’s return is a movement that seems to bring him home, but in reality it is aimed at detachment. Marco returns to his land because he needs to know, to understand, but he is trapped in the life that surrounds him. I believe that this is a generational condition: it affects many people between 40 and 50 years old who find themselves having to look after elderly and sick parents. Today we live longer, but longevity does not mean well-being: it is often suffering, dependence. The child almost becomes the parent of his parents. Marco finds himself in this condition and only by facing the trauma can the return be transformed into an act of detachment and liberation.”
Figures emerge in the story such as the great-grandmother Addolorata, the grandfather Demetrio and his brother Pepin, all marked by war experiences and family secrets…
«They are characters who support the very structure of the novel, which is in fact divided into three parts: each corresponds to one of them. Uncle Pepin, a musician, represents the broken and at the same time sprouting branch: a fragile but creative figure, which reflects a part of Marco’s personality. Great-grandmother Addolorata is the root of the wound: from the abandonment she experienced, the painful thread that runs through generations is born. Finally, grandfather Demetrio is the most complex bond, but also the strongest. It brings with it the memory of the war, of the deportation to Germany, of the confrontation with the Germans, the Russians, with what would become contemporary Europe. His experience becomes part of collective history, a reflection of the Italian and European events of the twentieth century.”
Music, memory the memory of the Yiddish lullaby that emerges in difficult moments…
«Music is a fundamental element of this novel: it gives rhythm to the story, almost like an underground percussion. The Yiddish lullaby is an emotional turning point, a passage that brings the narrative to a central point of pathos. Music, however, is not just a narrative detail: it is present everywhere, in the very language with which I write. The one that accompanies the book is that of Uncle Pepin, but also of the popular bands, of the taranta, of the pizzica. These sounds belong to my land and my cultural memory, and are elements that inevitably enter the novel, because they are part of the human and cultural landscape in which the story is set.”
We are experiencing sad times, do you think that literature can influence dialogue and peace in Mediterranean countries?
«I am convinced of it. Literature does not save, but offers tools for living: it is the drive for life. I always say that literature doesn’t solve problems, but it allows you to tackle them with a different, broader perspective. I think of the Italian soldier in a prison camp who, stripped of everything, finds strength in the poetry of Ungaretti, or Primo
Levi who clings to Dante in the hell of the concentration camp. That is literature: a breath of life that resists the death drive. The history of humanity is made up of a continuous conflict between the life drive and the death drive. If we are still here, it is because the drive for life has always prevailed. Literature is on the side of life, because it refines your gaze, broadens your sensitivity, puts you in contact with the deepest part of the human being. The Mediterranean, in this sense, is an immense resource: a sea that unites languages, cultures, histories, and which could truly become a laboratory of peace and coexistence. Unfortunately, the countries facing it are not fully aware of it.”