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Rating: Diving into the works of Albert Caraco is a bit like playing Russian roulette... It means arming oneself with an inescapable lucidity to be guided into places not at all evocative: it is the parable of human feeling, condemned to infamy and death... His is a life spent in the contemplative solitude of one who "has walled himself alive" to plumb the deepest abysses of the human soul... Suicide, which occurred in the utmost silence of the news, Caraco had already chosen many years before, he simply intended to postpone it to avoid causing offense and displeasure to his parents... thus it promptly occurred the day after his father's death... The world for Caraco is worn out by the overwhelming presence of a boastful and mean human mass, led by a powerful alliance, more or less hidden, of "priests and merchants," who have unceremoniously hoarded every imaginable good...
His iconoclastic fury and his absolutely aseptic style, his corrosive classicism, are directed indiscriminately at any type of human, regardless of their social extraction: there is no trace of morality understood as a Kantian genuflection to an indissoluble imperative, nor of a "herd and master" morality (as Nietzsche would have us believe), rather Caraco tries to consider the whole coagulation of races and human multitudes, sub specie eternitatis, as a formless and unrestrained whole, akin to "swarms of locusts and armies of rodents, a monster with millions and millions of heads"... The individual is neutralized, it doesn't matter if they are a servant, worker, master, or squanderer, all are nothing more than "scoundrels or ruminants", except for "a few sensitive and even fewer spiritual" ones: the human race has built for itself "what the Gnostics called the prison of the species", its means far exceed the ends it once set for itself... Humanism, along with Faith, is definitively toppled: only the latter survives, along with its blessings, its gasps, and its impieties... The sense of revealed religions is that "we live for death" and one day it will slither back to demand in full its reward of blood. Men should have remained faithful to Earth and stayed pagans... Instead, it is now too late... Science is only "a plaything for overgrown children", at worst they can only "serve their sadistic masters by providing them with new gadgets of death"; art is reduced to "an abomination", hypnotized by the economic principle, and forced into a prolonged emotional blockade in the face of the "democratic recovery of the worst and infamous styles of the past"....
Over love, Caraco prefers vice and dissolution, for a simple reason: a race in disarray, which has chosen for itself the destiny of gangrene for the planet, if it wants to have a minimal hope, must not multiply; the Mass of Perdition does nothing but "breed new monsters"... And anyway, even sex, and the various sexual carousels, cleverly cleared in defiance of prevailing morality, represent further proof of bestiality, distortion, spiritual degradation of humanity, an infinite hodgepodge of "spermatic automatons"... The future belongs to Nationalism and Racism, which will arrive unexpectedly from one day to the next, without pomp or trumpet fanfare: under the guise of a noble purpose, they communicate to men "a kind of vertigo that incites them to slaughter one another". And perhaps then, after a hecatomb of millions of human beings, prophets and at the same time authors of their own destiny, after "the oikumene is reduced to ashes", perhaps then... the world will be rethought.
"The century would like to choose everything, and that's why we have no style, the century would like to understand everything, and that's the reason it no longer escapes the labyrinth, the century would even like to humanize the mass of perdition as a mass, and that's why we are heading towards planetary carnage.
We want the impossible and soon we won't even have the shadow of the possible, we'll land on the moon and down here we'll drink our excretions, tomorrow our children will eat things considered filthy, the life that awaits us is so absurd and so horrible that the best will prefer death and madness and chaos to order, an order for the second death and perpetual madness and organized chaos.
The future order will be by far the most inhuman ever seen, the best at lying to us and the most infallible at deceiving us, a warm and methodically shapeless monster, mysterious and flat, elusive and despotic, which devours slowly and continuously without ceasing to be elusive.... "
Edition: Adelphi - Piccola Biblioteca
Other works translated into Italian: POST MORTEM (!) - Adelphi PB // SUPPLEMENTI ALLA PSYCHOPATHIA SEXUALIS - ES publisher
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