Involuntary Witness by
Gianrico Carofiglio
pbk out July 05
(Bitter Lemon Press)
at £8.99
Somehow it is no surprise that the writer of this beautifully judged
debut novel (a major seller in Italy), as well as being a prosecuting
magistrate in Bari, southern Italy, is also a skilled juggler. For
the novel brings off, superlatively, the difficult task of delivering
not only an effective (if low-key) legal thriller but also a humane
and convincing character study of a man undergoing what, for want of
a better phrase, might be termed a mid-life crisis.
As the book opens, we find the married 38 year-old defence
lawyer Guido Guerrieri lazily demanding (and getting) a fistful of
notes from a street trader whose hamburger van ('hygienic condictions
inside it were pretty much those of the sewers of Benares') has been
confiscated by the authorities. 'Please don't give me the ones with
mayonnaise stains' he prays silently. Later that evening his wife
informs him that she is leaving. It is already clear that Guido has
been off the rails for some time.
But, thanks be, though Guido has his share of Italian macho, the
odd girlfriend on the side for instance, this is some distance from
the mid-life crisis as conventionally portrayed. Of course he tries
various conventional remedies: alcohol, more women a less
conventional psychiatrist and meditation. But it is not until,
early in the book, the case of Abdou Thiam, Senegalese beach trader,
comes to his attention that Guido's mood of self-absorption really
begins to lift. Abdou is accused of the murder of a nine year-old boy
found at the bottom of a local well. The case is detailed and
circumstantial, but under interrogation Abdou has contradicted
himself; it seems that he would be well advised to take the
'shortened procedure' route available under Italian law, ie to plead
guilty in return for a reduced sentence. It's a procedure that would
have been accepted without thought by the Guido of the opening
pages. Instead, prompted by surrounding events in the novel, he
resolves to fight the case.
The book, like the legal system it so elegantly dissects,
proceeds at a leisurely pace. But, switching between Guido's
(somewhat cursory) investigation, the trial itself, as well as
Guido's journey of self-discovery, it is never less than gripping.
Told in the first person, the writing is economic, sometimes
reflective, often wryly humorous. Its key overall theme, expresssed
in the quotation from Lao-tzu that opens the book, like the incipient
racism that informs the case against Abdou, emerges with great
subtlety and skill. Very readably translated by Patrick Creagh, the
book climaxes with a double whammy. I won't reveal either, but I
guarantee you will finish this book not only moved but smiling.
Don't miss.