Never the Wind

When I finish a book, I like to let it percolate in my brain for a while—especially if it is a powerful, hard-hitting book such as this one. Unfortunately, sometimes this means that weeks go by before I end up doing the review; as such, this will be more compressed than I would have liked.

I don’t remember where I first heard of this novel; perhaps in a new release list, as the author is certainly new to me. The premise, a young boy learning to navigate his world in a new world of blindness, and the setting, southern Italy in the late 90s, both drew me to it inescapably. The author has a way with words, which is whimsical and poetic, but not too purple nor overly descriptive. It hits the balance in a way that worked perfectly for me. The characters are a key component of the novel’s heart, and though the plot may at times seem nebulous and secondary, it nevertheless has a surprisingly durable backbone. Moreover, the setting and atmosphere created in the novel are secondary to none—this novel is like walking in southern Italy in 1996 yourself, seeing all of the sights and eating the delicious food. While reading, it was an escape of utmost quality.

Our two main characters, Luca Saracino and Ada Guadalupi, are both restless children in search of adventure and exploration during their lazy summer days. Luca’s situation is complicated by the fact that he is exploring his family’s new home while also acclimating to his newfound lack of sight and a cross-country family move. Dimitri acknowledges blind contributors and collaborators at the end of the book, and Luca’s experiences consequently come off as genuine. I appreciated the effort and time he put into treating the character with respect and care. Luca and Ada are surrounded by a rich cast of secondary characters, such as their parents and other adults from the town, as well as Luca’s older brother, a disgruntled teenager on the cusp of adulthood. I got a well-defined sense of the family structure, and the petty squabbles, town gossip, and familial emotions of concern felt quite real and relatable. At times, Luca and Ada’s speech did seem scripted, somewhat beyond the level of the average twelve- or thirteen-year-old, but perhaps I was just exceptionally ignorant at that age. Luca and Ada both earned my sympathies by the end of the novel; what they go through is not a mere adventure, but also an exercise in compassion and understanding.

The plot seems a bit lackluster at first, I know—the book has been attributed as magical realism and gothic fantasy. Labels can be confusing, and I am hardly the expert on either of those categorizations, but if either of those is up your alley, then this seems like quite the exemplar. It has a slow start because of the slice-of-life feeling at the beginning, but keep reading—the pacing of the last third or so is phenomenal and ramps up quite nicely. I found myself unwilling both to tear away from the novel and to reach its conclusion. Without elaborating, the last part of the book turned this into ‘probably 4 stars’ to ‘definitely 5 stars’ for me. It was utterly captivating and moving. There is a mystery at the center of the novel—an unseen and ancient force that threatens Luca and his new friend, dredging up an old family feud—and the reader is swept along for the ride, uncertainty and all. But this is no standard mystery, so do not expect standard, cookie-cutter answers.

Best of all, this is a thematically rich novel, touching upon various conditions of human existence: forgiveness, memory, what unites as all as a species, the unknowable quality and force of nature, the meaning we make for ourselves, the nature of storytelling, family ties, and of course, that eternal idea—love. Yes, it sounds like a laundry list of common themes and tropes, but this is no superficial novel. Dimitri skillfully weaves together a lot of complex notions into the book, and sure, each is incorporated to different degrees, but whatever the recipe, its mixture hit the spot for my brain. I also forgave the novel for a couple of would-be book sins for me—first-person narrative and trite insertion of aphorisms and pithy sayings. Since the novel is framed as a recollection and memoir of sorts, the adult narrator reminiscing about his childhood summer, it makes sense and becomes palatable. I quite enjoyed this frame, and it made the first-person much more bearable. I had a library copy, and so I carefully noted each page that had a quote or line I savored.

I could wax on about how this book was a surprising gut punch to my heartstrings, or how it managed to grip me even during some personally difficult times. It is a book that challenges expectations and makes one question the nature of one’s reality. I feel like I’ve gained an insight into Francesco Dimitri’s values and philosophical outlook, and he has quickly become an author whom I am looking forward to reading further. (Spoiler alert: I am actually reading another book of his already—thanks library!) I also wondered about the fact that he wrote this novel in his second language, English, despite the setting of the book so clearly reflecting scenes from his own upbringing and his own mother tongue. I wish I could have a conversation about the art of translating wisps of thoughts and memories and feelings, especially those from childhood, but where would one even start? I technically finished this after the year had ended, but wow, what a high note on which to end/begin the year!

Favorite quotes:
※ ‘… I was told in great detail how I was going blind, never why. Of course, I know now there was no why. Some things happen because they do, and whatever meaning we want to find in them, we have to make it ourselves.’
※ ‘Ada hadn’t come into being on my moving South, for my benefit only. But we do that, we believe that we sit at the centre of the tale, that we are its indisputable hero, and we are so dazzled by our own brilliance that we rarely stop to consider the lives of those around us, no matter how close they are or we wish them to be.’
※ ‘In hindsight, anxiety was the price I paid for my family’s favorite sin, denial. I was more troubled than I cared to admit.’
※ ‘All I can say for myself is that we all have this thing in common, we humans, that the bigger the change, the longer we take to notice it. We react swiftly to small ripples – a promotion, a new lover – but when a tsunami comes that will upturn our life whether we like it or not, we turn our head the other way, and close our ears, as if deep change were a bore who will go away when ignored.’
※ ‘In the course of our lives, as individuals, we are hit by defeat and illness and heartbreak, and what we do is count our wounds, heal what we can, grieve what we’ve lost, and get back on our feet. The unthinkable happens; we take its measures; we adapt; we move on.’
※ ‘I came to understand that to the sighted, sight never ceases to be the only sense that truly matters.’
※ ‘When you are different, so many well-meaning people will zone in on your one difference and make of it the whole of you.’
※ ‘All stories are human to the wind, all stories equally small and endless.’
※ ‘Some people lack the humility to admit they’re wrong, and some lack the brains.’