I read the few chapters of Margaret Mazzantini’s Don’t Move and then abandoned it to finish a few other ones. Not that it wasn’t interesting, but it just didn’t grab my attention right away. I’m glad I went back to it, however, as it ended up being really beautiful.
After I read it and praised it my friend asked me to describe the plot to her. I’m uncreative, so it came out something like this:
There is this surgeon, and his daughter is in an accident. While she’s in surgery he relives an elicit affair he had before she was born, and narrates it to her in his own head.
Not only does that sound really corny and the stuff that romance novels are made of, but it doesn’t do the book justice at all. It’s broken into current-day (the father is sitting waiting for his daughter’s surgery to be completed), and flashbacks. I really enjoy books written in non-linear format, and this one is done in such a way that it flows beautifully.
The object of his extramarital affection is named Italia (Mazzantini is Irish but lives in Italy with her husband, and so the book takes place there). Her initial description completely turns me off to her, and as the story goes on she doesn’t get any more attractive or less…waifish. However, Mazzantini illustrates her (and Timoteo, the adulterer and father) in such a way that they eventually seem perfect for each other, and I find myself rooting for their romance even though she truly has no redeeming or promising qualities.
Italia is probably one of the most interesting characters I’ve encountered recently. She’s essentially floating through life without anyone or anything to tie her down, and even the description of her apartment (if you could call it that), with strange posters and a blind dog, is interesting. I got the impression by reading about her that she’s someone I’d never notice in a bar (where Timo first sees her), and she seems almost transparent, as if she’d disappear if she turned a certain way.
The rest of the characters aren’t really fleshed out, which actually works out quite well. There are descriptions and dialogue from his wife here and there, and from his best friend, but beyond that there isn’t much. Even Angela, his hospital-bound daughter, gets little attention.
The title applies to both Angela and Italia, and one of my favorite parts of the book is how Timo becomes more frenzied with each attempt to sneak away and see Italia, making she she doesn’t move. Not knowing if she’d still be around each time she stopped by creating even more suspense in a novel that is heavily based on character development.
All in all I’d highly recommend it to anyone (I wish I was fluent enough in Italian to read the untranslated version).
