Dario Voltolini (Turin 1959) is the author of numerous collections of short stories, novels, illustrated volumes, radio plays, song lyrics and librettos for the theater. Among his books we remember Una intuition metropolitan (Bollati Boringhieri 1990), Rincorse (Einaudi 1994), Forme d'onda (Feltrinelli 1996), I (Feltrinelli 2000) Spring (Feltrinelli 2001), The Scimmies have come out inadvertently from the cage (Fandango 2006 ), Foravìa (Feltrinelli 2010). With Lorenzo Bracco he wrote Beyond the Pillars of Hercules and Autumn.
Title: Winter
Publisher: La Nave di Teseo, pp 144, 2024
Rights: r.vivian literary agency
Like every book by Voltolini, Invernale is also
a narrative object inexhaustible in its apparent
simplicity. Such is, after all, the style of the
Turin writer, who since his successful debut
of Urna metropolitan intuition (1990) not
has never stopped remaining faithful to a language
essential and at the same time profound.
Winter-Future- Zaccuri-1711699645426.
The novel's closing gives the reader an ending to memorize: a secular prayer of blessing, which we are
grateful to Voltolini for having composed: «Maybe someone or something or nothing, of those unpredictable even for him, will be there for him
around in the non-space, he will be able to bring to his non-mind a solution for me that, who knows,
will be able to communicate to me or make it happen» Corriere della sera- Paolin1708584049352
Title: Eleven Meters Away
Publisher: La nave di Teseo
Rights: r.vivian literary agency
The Orange Garden
Publisher: La nave di Teseo, 2022
Rights: r.vivian literary agency
Nino Nino, this is the name of the protagonist, met Luciana in high school and fell in love with her in the extreme and daring way that belongs only to her first love: to attract her attention, the extreme pleasure that he felt without restraint, he draws rainbows and offers them to him as a gift every day at the interval between one lesson and another. in the presence of Luciana Luciana, bewildered, accepts these bizarre tributes, leaving no room for anything else. but then he inexplicably "gets engaged" with Attilio and the story with Nino Nino ends even before it begins. Now, after many years, Luciana and Nino Nino have an appointment at the Giardino degli Aranci: they met again by chance at Ikea a few days before, both are married, have children but the desire to chat, to retrace the past is strong and pushes them towards this meeting. This is how Nino Nino, going towards the Orange Garden, finds himself talking with himself, thinking back to the girls who attracted him before the appearance of Luciana in his life, and recognizing that precisely that passion so strong it leaves no space to uncertainties and fears, painless despite the incomplete outcome of his efforts, he made him become a man capable of authenticating himself to the female universe. Until, during the meeting with Luciana, curiosity takes over and he asks her how things really went in high school ... A writing in a state of grace, clear and precise, to describe a luminous sentimental education.
There are words and words: many are quickly forgotten (even if it is never certain...); while others, like those of the sentence pronounced by the doctor during the last visit ("There is nothing more to be done"), "pass through us. They continue to descend and will descend forever". The words of literature, even if not comparable to such a dramatic context, are, or should be, like these. Those of Invernale are. Double zero, Luigi Grazioli
https://www.doppiozero.com/dario-voltolini-e-la-ferita-del-padre
“Invernale” is a very powerful novel, which knocks you down while it elevates you and takes you from behind while it looks you in the face - and Voltolini is a great writer, there's little you can do about it.
Sandro Veronesi - Twice Strega Prize Winner
“I have seen Voltolini handle almost all human circumstances in his stories. At first I thought he had a writer's bag full of little tools, procured who knows where, suitable for making people laugh, move, thrill, reveal, reflect. Now I understand that he has only one tool and he built it himself. All he needs is a pocket to carry it around and he does everything wonderfully with it.
No one else has it.”
Davide Longo - Provincial Requiem
"Literary mastery, torment, composed fury, beauty, desperation and modesty. The last pages of this book are read with tears in one's eyes."
Antonio Moresco author of The Games of Eternity
“Everything that is made of flesh and bone is destined to be contaminated, to collide and to be hurt. The set of "Invernale" is a butcher's counter, therefore an ideal set. With his dry, tender and brutal style, Voltolini tries to answer one of the questions that accompany us in the path of losing and regaining a person: when did it begin, how? Is there a moment when one begins to die? It is said that death is part of life and should be understood as such. But the opposite is also true and this book shows us this.
If there is a passage between the realm of the living and that of the dead, this book travels it: "weighing" the matter of which we are made. Fascinating, vaguely Egyptian, "Invernale" by Voltolini accompanies us in a very original way in the most common and mysterious of journeys.”
Letizia Muratori, Drafts
Synopsis
The book tells the story of a goalkeeper from his youth to the first team.
We talk about elements of an athlete's football life that are a metaphor for our individual life: predisposition, talent, training, care. In particular, we focus on a particular point which is that of "intuition" that we, in the case of alternative choices to make, follow.
This intuitive ability is both a talent and the result of growth, mental, personal, character.
The development of this faculty is told by following the steps of the young athlete's evolution and has a surprise ending in which his entire journey is condensed: at the crucial point of his career, the goalkeeper will find himself face to face with his opponent during the execution of a penalty kick on which the victory or defeat of his team in the final of a very important tournament depends. For the first time in his career, the goalkeeper waits for his intuition to tell him which side to dive to save the penalty (an intuition that once developed in himself psychophysically has always directed him towards the right choice making him an amazing champion), but it does not arrive. The opponent begins his run-up and the goalkeeper waits for the intuition to save the penalty, waits at every step of the opponent, waits until the moment in which he is about to kick. But no intuition comes to his aid and so he stands still on the goal line in despair. But the footballer opts for an arrogant "chip" and the ball simply lands in the arms of the goalkeeper. No intuition, no choice: they were the right thing to do.
One wonders: who are the masters? Who in the invisibility of greatness does not cover your light with his shadow. The root of the flower. And so are you. If there is a luminous, wise writing without frills and rational injections, this is yours, Nino Nino lives and fights "in this dance of all of us".
Thanks to exlibris20 , I wrote a letter to Dario Voltolini , after reading "Il giardino degli aranci" ( La nave di Teseo ); it was an occasion, in a time of inopportune confusions about the meaning of writing, to reopen the casket of the lessons that Voltolini gave us, about time, about me narrating, about oysters and, under the radar, about Nino Nino. Thank you, D. (Read the book!) - Alessandra Minervini-Facebook
The Garden of Voltolini is therefore a mnestic place of frenzy and chases, of misunderstandings and failed acts, of Proustian memories and Malerbian twists (despite the lack of ancestry of the name). Luciana does not understand that that child was in love with her, she confesses to him (afterwards) that she felt like a prey: it is the eternal story of not taking lovers, even when the eyes meet or she is a prisoner in your house - but in another room. The love of writers is this breathlessness, this ecstatic and solipsistic jubilation, the end of which is not the encounter, and whose other is in perennial fade out: Nino Nino speaks to each other, and these sonorous voices ("this buzz, this buzz" Malerba would have said again), as the ending reveals, they are audible outside, detectable by others. Yes: because they are literature, and the story of Nino-Nino is a story that the author tells with the fury and grace of the narrative that runs at breakneck speed towards an ending that is not an outcome, but a gimmick: image, suggestion and therefore, wonder.- linkiesta.it- Gilda Policastro
The high and the low, poetry and dance, Ikea and Rilke, the moods of an adolescent body and literary Latin are found affectionately together, in editing and in thought. The result is a punk world that is hard not to find irresistible, whatever anxiety Voltolini portrays. Which in the end is not really that important, with all due respect to Nino Nino. Because the reader's attention ends up concentrating on the inlay, on the precious grain of the background, on the provocation of the flower that blooms in the midst of the smog.- Annalisa Ambrosio- Doppiozero
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