Michela Murgia
Accabadora

When I read it, I found a part of the memories that connected me to my grandfather, I found his wisdom that he shared and expanded alongside the elders of his hometown, among the mountains of Irpinia. I saw my image again as a child, walking around the village in the morning to complete the errands that my grandfather wrote down on a sheet of paper for me, and those that needed to be done every day; I saw myself again when I was stopped by people I didn't know but who knew who I was, and over time, I learned not to be surprised by this "gift". All of this forged me and made me a better person than I could have been without being with him, greeting and interacting with people who, by age, shouldn't have concerned me, and who, in ideas, were much more important than many of my peers, expressing an astonishing void of thought. I found all of them at my grandfather's funeral, and they treated me like a man, honoring me with a respect and responsibility that are still difficult to bear today.

My grandfather loved Sardinia, he would have loved the world depicted in this book and the pearls of Wisdom you find in it. I read it with my eyes but reflected on it with two minds: mine and his.

A rather short book, with extraordinary moral intensity, a harbinger of a world that seems to no longer exist but is instead immersed in reality much more than one might imagine. The story of Maria and Tzia Bonaria Urrai contains themes of dramatic and devastating power, impossible to address for those who cannot measure words or use them at the right moment. Michela Murgia manages to do it, addressing uncomfortable topics without naming them or making indirect references.

Buy it, don't borrow it. It's one of those books that should be read and re-read, even at the cost of opening memories and soul wounds that still burn when they are evoked...