Zerocalcare
Quando muori resta a me

There aren’t many figures like Zerocalcare. “Like” not only in terms of quality, or the remarkable craftsmanship of his work: few do what Zero does. Politics, introspection, irony, “scazzo,” punk, “daje,” paranoid overthinking... what seems like the perfect idiot’s resume reveals itself in his comics as the apotheosis of genius.

His latest comic is a mature work, and so far, so good. What is it about? It's mainly an introspective reflection tied to his father and his origins, retracing various memories of the cartoonist as he tries to reassemble them. Zero’s father, in fact, is mentioned much less than his mother in the comics. The funny duck sometimes plays a caricatured role, sometimes a fundamental one: at times he’s the porn addict, then the father, then the senile old man, then the young rebel. Undoubtedly, the angle on the father as a person—which, as such, is a reflection you could have about many people you know—is impressive. Still, I don't think the comic’s goal is to make you say, “perdinci, maybe my uncle had a gun in ‘76 too! Let’s see if Barbero mentions him in his documentaries on the BR!” I’m joking, but what I mean is, the value of the person who is Ping Ping is significant in itself, but obviously the focus is on the protagonist, who re-reads and owns the story.

The setting – and here’s a surprise – is not Rome, not Rebibbia, not a brawl-ridden den of skinheads and S.H.A.R.P., not the couch with the armadillo, nor the social centers, but the mountains. How do you end up there? Well, no spoilers: it's up to the reader to discover the plot. Of course, this aspect (along with the constant time jumps) plays a key role, contributing to an oppressive, mysterious atmosphere that seems to dredge up an anguishing, almost macabre past: and that’s exactly the intent. In one word: fuoriclasse. “Fuoriclasse” because Zerocalcare is the master of atmosphere (he’s the master of many things, honestly), especially those “malinconiche et similia.” But here he plays a trump card, with fleeting, complex vibes that prove raw and sharp. It must be said, however, that in the long run this element also has a downside, as the lighter moments typical of the episodic books we love are few and far between. But this is a stylistic choice we respect—one that’s not even new, given that a similar vibe is also found in the two “libri delle macerie.” In fact, it’s on this not being new that we have to pause, because here lies a potential flaw, a criticism many level at Zerocalcare, though it doesn’t diminish his greatness. A’ Michè, but you always talk about the same things. Let me clarify: the originality of “Quando muori resta a me” is beyond dispute, both in subject and method; however, many of the themes addressed aren’t new. The idea of having kids or not, for example, but more broadly the feeling that you’re doing nothing and wasting time—longtime readers will recognize this; it’s everywhere, even in the Bull Brigade strips. It feels like Zerocalcare is always trying to reach a conclusion on this subject, to “exhaust” it, finally addressing it fully once and for all. Then again, maybe the intent is to keep confronting your demons as you grow, which is also a sign of maturity.

And after all, it’s not true that Zerocalcare doesn’t have kids: his children are a generation of young people who discovered politics thanks to him, who discovered punk thanks to him, who found their smile again thanks to him. The most culturally influential Italian figure of recent years? Definitely a prime candidate.

In summary: a book that doesn’t bury its ironic streak but puts it at the service of a heavy topic, free from politics, perhaps a bit déjà-vu but still rich in interesting insights. Another bullseye. Score: 84/100.