Book Review: Verdigris by Michele Mari

A sublime book by a highly acclaimed Italian writer

Italy, 1969.

The dead can talk.
Three skeletal remains in a toolshed in Nazi SS uniforms.
A murderous underground army of red slugs.
A giant rabbit with no eyes.
A cellar containing ghastly relics from the past.

Note: Verdigris is a poisonous chemical compound. Arguably its most famous example is the Statue of Liberty, which was once a reddish gold, but over time copper oxidisation has formed its now iconic green colour.

The opening page of Verdigris is brutal. A perfect precursor to how it intends to continue. It reminded me of Francis Bacon's infamous musings on the violence of life. As, in Verdigris, nearly the whole of the opening page is dedicated to a shovel forcefully cutting a slug in half, the resulting desecration of its cadaver by ants are akin to Bacon's idea of violence being everywhere: 'even within the most beautiful landscape, in the trees, under the leaves...'

The perpetrator of the violence in this case is a groundskeeper who tends to a large estate owned by the grandparents of a young lonely boy named Michelín. His name is Felice. This man is monstrous by sight -  formlessness, ulcered, nose-wrecked, ogre-like - yet him and the narrator have a special bond.

Thus, based on Bacon's poignant allusion, if the beautiful landscapes are indeed full of violence - our narrator speaks a degree of truth in stating that 'to be loved by a monster is the best possible protection from the horrific world'.

Verdigris is the tale of Michelín and Felice's blossoming friendship after the 'monster' suffers from a quick onset of amnesia.

Felice's deterioration is painstaking, but also darkly humorous, as the man's confusion over basic tasks becomes hysterical.

So begins Michelín's task of unravelling Felice's past. The more he unravels, the more sinister everything turns - awash with nightmarish visions and hellish creatures. Yet their relationship is utterly endearing as they work together to slot it all together.

Verdigris is a story of secrets long-buried, of memory and how the past becomes muddied as we age. It confronts the way time can heal yet distort, and of the secrets we guard vehemently. And of friendships appearing in the most unlikely places.

There is wonderful insight in Brian Robert Moore's translator note at the end of the book. He captures the essence of Verdigris perfectly, akin to the surprises and authentic wonder gained when reading as a child. Verdigris evokes such wonder, and as Moore rightly states: 'as if there were always the same young reader buried inside us, one who comes back to life each time we lose ourselves in the beauty and mystery of a good book'. And it’s down to Moore that this is made possible through the tireless and meticulous work of his deft translation.

A sublime book by a highly acclaimed Italian writer, set to be published in January 2024. A big thank-you to Michael at Other Stories for sending a proof copy out. Highly recommend.