The Neapolitan Novels

When my copies arrived from the publisher, I was so happy that I decided to give one to Lila. I hadn’t given her my previous books, and I took it for granted that, at least for the moment, she wouldn’t even look at it. But I felt close to her, she was the only person I could truly rely on, and I wanted to show her my gratitude. She didn’t react well. Obviously that day she had a lot to do, and was involved in her usual aggressive way in the neighborhood conflicts over the forthcoming elections on June 26th. Or maybe something had annoyed her, I don’t know. The fact is that I gave her the book and she didn’t even look at it, she said I shouldn’t waste my copies.

I was disappointed. Enzo saved me from embarrassment. Give it to me, he said, I’ve never had a passion for reading, but I’ll save it for Tina, so when she grows up she’ll read it. And he wanted me to write a dedication to the child. I remember that I wrote with some uneasiness: For Tina, who will do better than all of us. Then I read the dedication aloud and Lila exclaimed: It doesn’t take much to do better than me, I hope she’ll do much more. Pointless words, with no motivation: I had written better than all of us and she had reduced it to better than me. Both Enzo and I dropped it. He put the book on a shelf among the computer manuals and we talked about the invitations I was receiving, the trips I would have to make.

93.

In general those moments of hostility were open, but sometimes they also persisted behind an appearance of availability and affection. Lila, for example, still seemed happy to take care of my daughters, and yet, with a mere inflection of her voice, she could make me feel indebted, as if she were saying: What you are, what you become, depends on what I, sacrificing, allow you to be, to become. If I perceived that tone I darkened and suggested getting a babysitter. But both she and Enzo were almost offended, it shouldn’t even be mentioned. One morning when I needed her help she alluded in irritation to problems that were putting her under pressure and I said coldly that I could find other solutions. She became aggressive: Did I tell you I can’t? If you need me, I’ll arrange it: have your daughters ever complained, have I neglected them? So I convinced myself that she wanted only a sort of declaration of indispensability and I admitted with sincere gratitude that my public life would have been impossible if she had been less supportive. Then I gave in to my commitments without any more qualms.

Thanks to the competence of the publicity office, I appeared in a different newspaper every day, and a couple of times even on television. I was excited and extremely tense, I liked the increasing attention but I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. At the moments of greatest anxiety I didn’t know whom to ask and I resorted to Lila for advice:

“If they ask me about the Solaras?”

“Say what you think.”

“And if the Solaras get angry?”

“At the moment you’re more dangerous for them than they are for you.”

“I’m worried, Michele seems crazier and crazier.”

“Books are written so their authors can be heard, not so that they remain silent.”