I was in a bookstore the other day - actually, it was evening - and it happened to me in his hands "of the capital Flies" by Paul Volponi. It 'was one of those electric shock that happens every now and then, when you stumble into something and, incidentally, was what you wanted to find at that time.
Volponi I had never read, because as a child I was an idiot. But maybe it's better that way, because maybe at that age I would not have appreciated. And 'that Volponi, like me, and Urbino. And so as a child I used to go to the streets (in the streets "in Urbino is a specific and well-defined square: Piazza della Repubblica) and hear" oh, it's just past Volponi ...", and I thought it was a somewhat 'so-famous Urbino or so. And even when he became senator told me that so someone had to become a senator, in Urbino. All cities have a senator, right?
However, Paul Volponi, in addition to being one of the greatest Italian writers of the '900, was manager in the firm that represented one of the most enlightened and exciting industrial experiences of Italy, and perhaps the world: Adriano Olivetti Olivetti. "The flies of capital" is a novel about the world of Italian industry, finance and power, derived from his direct experience in Olivetti and Fiat. But it is a novel, not an essay or a report. A novel in which Volponi does talk, in addition to players, all the objects that surround them: Calculators, potrone, the ficus, parrots ... And it is beautiful. From the beautiful opening words, which describes a city where "everyone is asleep or nearly so, and also those who lie awake forgetful and lost ... while everyone is asleep and the value increases, it accumulates second by second outdoors or inside buildings "the speech in which you get to the book's title:
One day I will tell everything, I will write a memorial, a white paper on the great leaders on major corporate policies, the truth about the research and development, quality manufacturing, investment, new technology on large, large, yes, but great, levies and personal abuse, on flies, yes, the flies of the capital.
He stopped on this picture, which seemed plucked exactly the band of his enemies, all directors and managers of industrial success, and made of cheap Voletta, wings and fins blue ... like ... all ties to Thus, with gestures and accents, bows and updates, reports and references, wise colored voracious flies of the capital, yes, the flies ... for more buzzing and fluttering everywhere, bell'inglese, going to suck and get dirty.
trees disappeared and the canary in the shadows, always silent, very quickly looked around, as impressed by flies, as if he feared the rise.
If this is not nice, I do not know what else.
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