Triumphs sermons and perhaps exile the quotimmediately holyquot of Gomorrah

Triumphs, sermons and (perhaps) exile the "immediately holy" of Gomorrah

In the end, from the beginning, the story of Roberto Saviano is that of the author of a leading book rather than a masterpiece, more necessary than exemplary, simply more than beautiful, more popular than fundamental. What then lost a bit of freedom and gained fame became (malgré lui?) first a consumer culture product, from anti-mafia brand to wholesaler of verbal abuse and culture, then the head of every respectable battle and finally – worst of all – an intellectual. Blessed is the land of fires that needs no écrivains engagés.

In Italy and even in Casal di Principe you can be anything, even heroes and even writers. But damn the intelligentsia.

Intelligent but not very cultured, victorious but bullying, guru and sneering, talkative and sneering, rebellious but moralistic, preacher but predictable, Roberto Saviano – permanent outrage and fictionalized explanations – has, over time, become a lay priest of a sort more cosmopolitan and progressive catechesis, he wants to re-educate the people to the purity of ethical principles. With that pinch of abused Southern piety that never hurts.

Against all mafias, then against all crimes. Against Berlusconi, then all the Salvinism. Against all fascisms, so Meloni. Impossible to go wrong.

And for the rest, the question arises: But Saviano should not have got on the plane with Paola Turci, Elodie, Michielin, Alessandro Gassman and Peppa Pig – Tour guide: Chiara Ferragni to expatriate? But we are in Italy and there was a strike.

That’s how it went. Saviano first declares: “If the right wins, I leave the country.” Then the right wins. And then Saviano accuses: «The voters of Meloni invite me to leave Italy: it is a fascist warning. Resist!”.

We will find him armed, between a broadcast by Fabio Fazio and a Book Fair event, commanded by the Capri Brigade, arm in arm with the best of the worst illiberal left. In praise of egalitarianism, a column on Sette, Anna Politkovskaja, Paranze, Che Fazio che fa, theology of civic engagement, “Fascists!”, a nod to Cesare Battisti and New York.

But then: enough of this nasty Manhattan penthouse story with a view of Central Park! It is not true.

It’s an attic.

Gentle, righteous, beloved, moderate, medial, TV prophet, hero of the Republic of Goods – for a time in Corriere reality – stage and primetime populist, Saviano is everything we journalists wish we were. Famous, celebrated, envied – above all invited, everywhere: universities, festivals, television – Nobel Prize candidate (“But which one?”, “For literature, for peace … it’s the same”), courageous, “clear eyes A nose to tell stories find, skill and sympathy in dealing with sources and a pen capable of turning any report into good literature,” wrote Pablo Ordaz years ago in the Spanish newspaper El Pais.

The whole world is one country. With us, for example, Saviano’s parable from the belly of Naples, Chiaia district, in Caserta, which was accompanied by a glorious editorial return, has experienced shaky moments, so to speak. As befits heroes, its origins are shrouded in rumor and legend. The latter tell of a very young revolutionary Saviano, engaged in the class struggle and militant of the left; the first mysteries of youth and politics – a boy who grew up in gyms frequented by the boys of the Youth Front (he could become a hero of the right ambushed by the left, he became a monument of the left ambushed by of the right ), then years of fighting and anti-government against all injustices, the journalistic mess at the Corriere del Mezzogiorno, we say, that the question of sources, and we don’t want to bring out the plagiarism stories, could have been handled better and the investigations into organized crime . From there – epiphanic book – the publication of Gomorrah, Mondador spring 2006, a novel “inspired by real situations” that to date has sold two and a half million copies in Italy, ten million in the world, translated into 52 languages, in films , in TV series, spin-offs.

Hat off, down to your hair. Which means coppole ‘and fuck in Neapolitan.

And after the cult book, here are the pop shows, the international collaborations, the passage from Marina Mondadori to Carlo Feltrinelli, the interventions via Vieni via con me – a program that made it even more popular than it was, but also less surprising than it was planetary success that envy should have. And the all-rounder. From reports from hell to sermons about migrants, racism, xenophobia, corruption Bella vita e malapolitica. And Saviano became Savianism. With the typical presumption of those who preach on the left and scratch for the Mondadori group.

So what. “I don’t like Gomorrah.”

Moral strength of the author of the book: undisputed. Civil law value of the text: very high. Literary value: this is debatable.

«Fabbula favesa, buscie». The real Gomorrah is said to be the Neapolitan Book of the Dead by Francesco Palmieri, martial arts master and true writer, a close friend of Antonio Franchini, then editor-in-chief at Mondadori, with the basic title Gomorrah, who invented his long-term incipit, from scratch written – in the build of Saviano’s success. All Friends of Youth (later abandoned) by Roberto ‘O Milionario. After discovering its true nature, they now call it “fillet”. With an unspeakable implication. “You are not mud, but a fillet of mud”.

Anecdotal for anecdotal. When Saviano visited the elegant headquarters of the Mondadori in Rome on Via Sicilia and noisily arrived in front of the escort, the caretaker Giovanni (from Mondragone) announced the following: «He has arrived, O Lord of the Rings!». But for all the rings she wears on her fingers? And that, very funny: “No, it’s called accussì, because he’s a great fantasy author!”

Also known as a “fictional novel”.

Obviously it was he, Saviano, who abandoned Palmieri and Franchini, who did not have enough coats of arms to accompany him to the New York sky. Too little liberal. So much so that one night, in the middle of a party in Upper Manhattan, Franchini shows up between scicche men and painted women to tell him, or rather tell him: “Get on your knees and pots your hands .”

They kiss and bestsellers, awakened conscience and marketing – from the notorious province of Campania to the media altars – icon of legality and pantheon of the most beautiful right (Schmitt and Jiinger, Pound and Evola), glossy covers and Caravaggesque aesthetics with elongated face and beard Saviano suffered in the end managed to get everyone to agree on the difference of opinion against him. Never has a civilian hero been so hated.

As the protagonist of one season of the great anti-mafia theatre, he sank – by tweeting against Salvini and Meloni – in the social trapdoor of the everyday.

Saviano Santo immediately yes, but without exaggerating. Because now his place is there. But where? “Within ‘presebbio”.