Carlo Lucarelli
Almost Blue

The evening is a great time to write (be it reviews or anything else), and then, if you add a good Jazz background to the atmosphere, things improve a lot. So, given the particular situation that has strangely arisen, I decided to jot down a few lines about a little yellow book (not even two hundred pages) bought a few months ago and read in just a few days, that is "Almost Blue" by Carlo Lucarelli, a very popular author to whom a beautiful comic series called "Cornelio" has been dedicated.

Returning to the work under examination, I will tell you, even if it might be redundant, that it is a thriller, specifically a Thriller set in the Italian Bologna. In short: a serial killer, nicknamed the "Iguana," is claiming victims in the city and Inspector Grazia Negro, assisted by Simone, a blind boy who loves "Almost Blue" played by Chet Baker, and modern scientific technologies, will try to capture the ferocious killer. Up to this point, everything is simple, perhaps quite banal, but as soon as you begin to delve into the heart of the story (I assure you that the novel grabs you right from the start), you realize that our author wanted to add something extra that elevated his story from the depths of the already heard to the heights of originality and the tremendously interesting. Let me explain better: the focal point of the writing is not the killer or the characters surrounding them, even though Simone is, in my opinion, a truly majestic figure in his fragility and ability to soar beyond his handicap, but rather the crux is the music, and it's no coincidence that the title of the work is a song, the favorite of our unfortunate co-protagonist, whose title is abundantly clear without me repeating it again. In fact, as we turn the pages, we see that the Iguana and Simone are contrasted by a lifestyle that is an expression of their musical tastes, that is, when the first appears, the background is a hard, violent music (a part of the book is titled "Reptile," from the song by Nine Inch Nails), while during the appearance of the second, Beker dominates with his class and elegance.

Another strong point of Lucarelli's novel is definitely the psychological characterization of the characters (the pragmatism of Inspector Negro, the exaggerated madness of the killer, and the constant search for contact with the outside world by the young blind man) and the city, which almost turns out to be a real actor in the story that from above watches and moves like chess (or checkers, so as not to offend anyone) the lives of the various protagonists of the story. Finally, amidst so much defeatism and psychological tension, there is also time for love, but a particularly tender, emotional love, made of sensations rather than physical contact, a feeling that unconsciously grows over time and when it knocks on the door of those involved, they can do nothing but open it, since it has already entered a long time ago and its request for permission is just a matter of manners.

In conclusion, a beautiful book, engaging and effective, recommended to those looking for an escapist read that doesn't necessarily have to be devoid of content, as in an era of lovestruck vampires it's also fair to return to reality, as sometimes it can be more horrifying than any book or film around.