These are the new crazy Pazzi, and is called: unemployed. They are called: precarious.

They are everywhere, they are the fools that our time should hold off, are his sons archetypal. It must be managed, hidden, cared. Instrumentalized, spectacularly. Forgotten, especially.
Our time - that is the policy, barbaric and indifferent, that is the information, liar and morbid to the "human life" of the news, and the Company, selfish and scared of what is real too, now just virtual - It is photographed, agitated, and told from the pen sounded severe, skilled and sensitive Alberto Fumagalli in his second novel, Crysi, edited by Julian Ladolfi Publisher.
Fumagalli builds a history-symbol whose two halves, eventually, beyond good and evil, will prove to be both guilty, both crazy. On the one hand there are the losers, family Tricolore. On the other hand, the barbarians-attackers: the Media, the sorcerers of Public Information, and "Crysi", which in the plot is the "national community recovery" was born by the will of the Government and the President of the Republic in order to help and rehabilitate those affected by unemployment and Insecurity. The novel contains the monologues of the main characters: a voice for each chapter, for each prospect dominant emotion, a tone and a distinctive style, a different spelling.
First part: the voices of House Tricolor, nothing smells or sounds or dreams.
Father-Husband. A forty-nine years loses his job, and find another one, at his age, is a "claim" ridiculous. His prose is a broken verse, the fragmented soul pain, torn apart by shame, guilt, emptiness, frightened by the threat of Crysi - because of Crysi know everything, but I do not want Crysi, now, come tomorrow . They come and get me.
Wife-Mother. Precarious, does a job that is not his while to put some money in the house, writes about race so as not to be afraid, he slaps invisibility and is punished with a comedy disturbing hair - that hair no longer needed and that They are never enough. A wife who hopes Crysi is "the" solution, a woman sleeping in a bed of white widow, because unemployment stuns even love.

the Firstborn. A year after graduation still looking for work, is compelled to revenge and blasphemy, to an exercise of hallucinatory despair and cynicism, with which loots its fragility of twenty, the son. You father's father, to save, to save himself.
The second son. It is the small family, mocked by classmates for always the same sweater, white skin all year round. Here, more than elsewhere, the author is "mime", and can really make his inner voice of child uses expressions that, gently, ignore the grammar of large, follows wide-eyed with the rush of thoughts without punctuation , it makes the shy temperament with withdrawing after sentences, short and clear statements, singhiozzate between point and point. The tenderness of the affected dall'atrocità real, the disorientation and the incomprehensibility for the horror and shame sealed childhood.
Last part: the Community Crysi and the Media.
Crysi is the sanatorium contemporary crazy conceived by the "brains" -Italy, of course fee, which hides horrors, flaws and secrets of unprecedented violence as the access procedure, performed in "narrow-eyed and grim, gray": patients unaware " taken "from their homes, convinced with good," the promise of the indeterminate ", or foul, pinprick of sedatives and sleeping pills. Drag them away, and the end point of history: deportation legalized.

Crysi, a group of dangerous magicians, "succhiasoldi State" in white coats, sold by newspapers, television, the Internet, as an association of "professionals" of recovery psychic - and all that licking the bite of salvation. Crysi is much more than a narrative device, and Fumagalli makes good the slimy comic-tragedy of power with the three characters - two experienced officials of the Clinic and the young intern, the recommended - that embody certain "usual" bad habit Italian: the "female ", possibly underage, her hair artfully assembled, violence unscrupulous, easy money, the digitization of emotions before they are experienced" instagrammate ", the guilty silence and indifference. Then, the farce of the media that "markettando" information, manipulate our will, the freedom to choose, to act out loud, with our voice.
So who are the real fools?
The final Fumagalli builds is negative, and must be, because the novel is a photograph on the Present (from the site of the author, who writes: "Crysi already exists, although not physically") and simultaneously a warning on the Future ("if something will not change in this country, Crysi come "), and because through the characters' events titillate with a suspect now more urgent than ever: that we are all guilty, barbaric and losers.
Are guilty of the state, the policy, channels of information, because they do not sniff the atmosphere of leaden who work do not have it, because pierce the dignity with empty measures that do not help or who assumes or who is hired, leaving each alone with his discrimination. Why not look "alive" anyone but to try "actors" of directing a salable and "spectacular": the crisis is a game, not "human."

They are guilty even the vanquished. Guilty in despair because they stop thinking for themselves, they get used to not work or not do their work or do it for free, they stop searching for a solution, to be curious, to study, try to understand, remember, and above all: expect . They are guilty because they believe and expect, anesthetized by the words of a system-state that offers the talk-show of the wounds, and they forget, all that work is a "right". They are guilty because they stop to consider the crisis as an opportunity, an area of ​​transition between old and new world, a bet for their legs. And then they give up, do not measure over your courage and action begin, they too, to play: anger proclaimed only in a social network, then good night and many greetings - "We met with so many dreams and thanks all".
In the current spread of the works on the crisis, on the precariousness and unemployment, Fumagalli resists the temptation to eclipse the record of the inner life, to swap lives with information, statistics, figures, video, graphics and percentages, and writes a History made of people, real flesh, bones and silences, with a conceptual hard but accurate, clear architecture that gives the reader a quick ride on the pages, not without the expectation wide open and hiccups. With Crysi we celebrate a generation of contemporary writers who do not give up, and tell. And telling the reality perform the only revolution which, in spite of our memory, we are capable of all: say no, say why.
Say no. Say why. Do not forget, ever.

Valentina Chiefa

Il Pickwick