I just got home, and I’m writing this post straight away at the end of a meeting in the library that I will always remember. Forgive mistakes, wrong verbs, imperfect punctuation, but I can’t help but tell you how I feel and what I experienced tonight.
Over the years this library has been making me live not one, but a thousand lives and today we have told about one that has left its mark.
A few years ago, on the occasion of San Jordi, World Book Day, I organized a meeting asking several writers who were friends of the bookstore to come and read extracts from their novels. I received a call from Domenico Cosentino from Round Midnight Edizioni , who offered me the intervention of one of his authors, Nicolò Gianelli , who had published for them the collection of short stories entitled: ugly vice to die.
Nicolò arrived from Modena, the only author who “played” away from home, far from his readers.
A shy, introverted boy of few words. He took an interest in the activities of my library and congratulated me on the place, which is as small as it is full of initiatives. We exchange a couple of jokes about the readers’ absurd requests, he is a librarian in Nonantola.
His turn comes, he gets up and tells us:
“I decided not to read anything from my book, but if you like, I brought a story about my life as a librarian”
His being introverted is inversely proportional to his ability to capture the attention of readers. The opening words were enough to conquer the public and the bookseller.
The time at our disposal has expired, the train to Modena is waiting for him and we promise to meet again for an upcoming presentation.
The presentation of a new book of his was, just tonight, February 20: the book is called the Yankee Gospel , but he is not there. He left in July; are those news that you read by scrolling the facebook wall and going back a couple of times because you think you have not read correctly, you think it is the beginning of another story, but it is not.
When an artist leaves us, his words remain and I assure you that there is not a single line of the Yankee gospel that does not deserve to be read. Her parents and Elisa, her best friend, are going around the bookstores to tell and make known the works of Nicolò.
Today was a very touching meeting, I’m happy to have been lucky enough to cross Nicolò’s path even if only for a few hours.
I hope you too can cross his story by reading what he wrote.
I would like to make an album
with photos of others
where I appear by mistake
among the blurred passers-by
because there in the background
of a thousand close-ups
I was traveling the world
with the step of ghosts.
I want that face of mine back
indefinite as smoke
that flew unnoticed
on things in focus.