Veronica Raimo: "Readers want to read books by older men that simplify things for them."

Barcelona"We had learned to accept our father's irrational despotism like his whiskers," says the narrator of one of the stories in Life is short, etc. (1984 Editions / Asteroide; Catalan translation by Mercè Ubach). The new book by Veronica Raimo (Rome, 1978) returns to the first person to explore lives that do not necessarily coincide with the author's own, but which often share her ironic, biting, and harsh point of view. Raimo achieved great success in Italy with the novel Nothing is true (1984, 2023 editions), which sold more than 100,000 copies and won awards such as the Viareggio and Strega Giovani. It explored the obsessions and dirty laundry of a Roman middle-class family he knew very well: his own.

When he published Nothing is true He asserted, in relation to its autobiographical content, that sincerity in writers "is a big lie" and that all writing is "manipulation." In what direction did he intend to manipulate the characters this time?

— It's curious because I've been writing these stories over many years—the oldest is fifteen—and yet they all share the fact that many of the characters have a habit of telling lies. Another theme that has interested me over the years is not having a clear identity. I don't think of it as putting on a mask, but rather as playing with the possibilities of who I can become, according to each narrator.

In the first story, The dwarves don't look at each other, a girl pretends to be the niece of a couple who immigrated to Long Island decades ago. She spends a few days with them, pretending to be someone else. She even has to watch the Totò movies that this fake uncle shows her.

— Many Italian emigrants – when they were called that, and not expats– they felt a deep nostalgia for their homeland, which they partly assuaged thanks to Totò's films. They were absurd and ridiculous stories that made them feel less alone in a different society where they were poorer and hadn't fully integrated.

It's a very funny story, with a dog that tries to commit suicide by banging its head against a wall, neighbors who would kill for their garden gnomes, and a neurotic narrator. Do you think your sense of humor works in your favor as a writer?

— In the case of Nothing is true It worked in my favor because I had a lot of readers. But it also generated a more marked division of opinions. The same thing has happened with the short stories. Some people think you can't joke about abortion or death. I don't agree. Irony works especially well with difficult, even tragic, topics. Otherwise, it often remains a joke and that's it.

Is the presence of irony growing or diminishing in contemporary Italian literature? I'd say it's a resource that, unfortunately, isn't at its best among Catalan authors.

— There's a lot of irony on social media and via mobile phones these days, with the constant use of memes, but I'm surprised that both millennial and Gen Z authors who write don't use it in their books. Why are so many young people writing novels about their grandparents? It's a question I find disturbing: they set perhaps critical stories in the years of fascism, but, on the other hand, they're incapable of looking at what's happening in our Italy, Meloni's.

One of the last great achievements in his country has been The wallet, of Francesca Giannone, an author born in the 80s.

— If they don't talk about a pioneering portfolio, they tell you about the life of a peasant woman or about the women who went to wash clothes in the river. All the covers of these novels are the same, with a disturbing sepia-toned, antique tone. And they all talk about oppressed women in a clearly patriarchal society.

Aren't the women in your stories and novels oppressed by patriarchy?

— Patriarchy perpetuates itself in more subtle ways than we think. I try to convey to the women in my literature some of the challenges of our present. Framed within the fourth wave of feminism, they relate to issues that don't necessarily highlight gender violence, femicide, or oppression, but rather observe a series of dynamics that women experience today, even within feminism itself.

The story that gives the book its title, Life is short, etc., centers on a middle-aged architect who has built a house isolated from the world to retire and live self-sufficiently. While massaging the screenwriter working on a documentary about him, they have a heartbreaking exchange. He tells her, "You're a scared and sad woman." She retorts that he's "an assertive and boring man." What's worse?

— The assertive and boring man, no doubt. mansplaining It's still a very current trend. Male assertiveness and narcissism are still very strong. If we look at the list of best-selling books in Italy, at the top we'll find an essay by a scientist, then one by a historian who talks about the Roman Empire, and another by an economist who knows how to save the country. Readers want to read books by mature men who simplify things for them.

Although this man in the story is somewhat arrogant, he also has a weak spot: a son he shares with his ex who is constantly moving from one house to another.

— What hides behind the narcissistic, self-confident man? In many cases, it's fragility. I like to break through the shell of these types of men. It's a way to show them with a touch of tenderness that can even be funny.

Do you think you are harder on men than on women when you write?

— Generally, yes. It's easier for me to show the bad parts, explain them from a negative perspective, and point out the ridiculousness.

Everyone receives it, whether they are young lovers, conceited or mediocre artists, middle-aged men with pedometers, or fathers who buy a second home when they can barely afford the apartment they share in Rome with their wife and children. In the latter case, the man is the father of the house. Nothing is true, TRUE?

— Yes. It's a story I wrote before the novel, and once I had it published and wanted to recover it, I allowed myself to introduce a few variations that turned it into a surprisingly nostalgic story.

In both the short story and the novel, the two sons, who are writers, struggle to leave home. Was this a way of denouncing the economic fragility of the intellectual community?

— The housing problem is much worse now than it was when I was old enough to leave home. My friends' children are around 25 and aren't even considering flying solo: everything is very expensive, yes, they're right, but at the same time, there's a gap between boys and girls that I already noticed in my generation.

Which is it?

— Girls become independent sooner than boys because we accept precarious jobs without knowing if we'll ever get to the place of our dreams. Boys are different; in that sense, they're less willing to take a backseat.

Nothing is true It appeared in Italy in 2022 and the short stories in 2023. Could you tell us what you're currently working on?

— I'm editing my next novel. It's due out in February. It's a bit difficult for me to talk about it, but in a rather sarcastic voice, I explain a story that hides harsh violence within. It's a novel about the ambiguity of trauma. I expect to receive a lot of criticism from feminists... What scares me most isn't that, but rather that the book won't be understood.