Day After Day by
Carlo Lucarelli
pbk out September 04
(Harvill)
at £10.99
In Bologna, a car has exploded, its now legless occupant near death in the centre of
the road. As the police arrive at the crime scene, amongst the last words issuing from
the victim, the phrase "pit bull" is caught by a carabinieri. In another part of the city, a
young man demonstrates a startlingly effective method of escaping the attentions of a
would-be mugger. Elsewhere Inspector Grazia Negro and her team break into the
apartment they have kept under surveillance for several days, only to find the
occupants, a well-known criminal and his wife along with their bodyguard, horribly
murdered. The subsequent police investigation shows that the killer is a professional
and with an unusual mastery of the art of disguise. Meanwhile another young man,
part of a supervisory team checking on the chat rooms of a local internet service
provider, notices a new chat room, its ostensible purpose to discuss the acquisition of
pit bull terriers.
It's true, there are a few similarities with last year's astonishing Almost Blue,
Lucarelli's British debut. Basic plot, three criss-crossing narratives, internet chat
rooms taking the place of Simone's radio scanners, and, less resonant for UK readers,
Luigi Tenco's 1966 Italian hit Day After Day (covered later by Perry Como!)
replacing Chet Baker and Almost Blue. But this is, in fact, the third of the three
Grazia Negro books to date, and it was written three years after Almost Blue, and five
years after the first, the untranslated Lupo Mannaro (1995). In between Lucarelli won
a prize or two for his historical Sicilian crime novel L'Isola dell'Angelo Caduto.
Indeed, it is quickly evident that an even more sophisticated writer is at work.
Lucarelli has retained his uncommon talent for rendering the sounds, texture and feel
of things. But this time each of the narrative strands is more fleshed out, the
characters given more context and more rounded as a result, making for instance the
casual sexism that surrounds Grazia more subtle, if no less demeaning. It's a pity that,
in the process Lucarelli has lost some of that punkish edge that gave Almost Blue its
unique flavour. Thomas Harris meets David Cronenberg, I said at the time. But this
time the creep of Cronenberg is missing and for Thomas Harris, read Frederick
Forsyth.
No less gripping, of course, and certainly worth your time. Oonagh Stransky's
seamless translation never misses a beat. And if you haven't read Almost Blue (now
available as a Vintage paperback), read it later.
Day After Day by
Carlo Lucarelli
