A LITTLE BOOK LIKE FAMILY

In this terrific Italian novella, an intimate relationship is severed unnaturally, making us question the nature of the bonds we hold dear to us and those we endure owing to filial duty.

Like Family by Paolo Giordano, in translation from the Italian by Anne Milano Appel. Translation published in 2015 by Viking.

I’d been looking in our local library for short story and essay collections when the name Paolo Giordano caught my attention on the fiction shelf. The books seemed untouched and after one look at the blurbs in the back, I knew I had to read at least one of his works. Since I’m strapped for time and my commitment was to read just a short story a week going forward, I picked up the smallest of his books. The cover of Like Family is stunning as you can see. The first page sucked me in.

One of the things that I love about poking around in Saratoga Library’s fiction shelves, of course, is that I never know about what I’ll discover. Paolo Giordano interested me because of his unusual background. He is an Italian writer who won the Premio Strega literary award with his first novel The Solitude of Prime Numbers. I could stop there because the Strega Award is a big deal in itself but here’s the part that I found most exciting, however. Here’s a man with a doctorate in Particle Physics. I don’t know what that means but like a true Indian-American mother, I’m impressed with anything to do with physics. I didn’t find the subject pretty at all when I was in high school. My inability to embrace the formulae around mass, velocity and acceleration would shatter all my dreams towards a career in the sciences.

I talk about this in my own book. My father first enrolled me for a degree in Physics but my gut told me that it was wrong. Without informing my father I switched into English literature. Years later, I would get a degree in Computer Science knowing fully well that what I loved was the written word but this time it was my decision. I think it’s important to do things that are a reach because it tells us what sort of er…particles we’re made of. I believe you must love work so much that you know you cannot do anything else and I’m aware I’m speaking from a place of privilege. There are many in this world who simply do not have a choice. Those of us who do, like the author of the week, Paolo Giordano, must exercise their choice. Despite his background in the sciences, Giordano quit it all for a life in writing and that says something about the careers we choose and our inner lives. During Covid-19, one of his essays How Contagion Works went viral and while I haven’t yet read it, I’ve enjoyed the discussion around mathematics, science and current events in this interview.

This story, Like Family, delves into a deep relationship between a young couple and a woman, Mrs. A, who comes to care for them as the couple negotiates a difficult pregnancy. As the young woman gives birth, Mrs. A becomes a part of their family; once the baby arrives Mrs. A becomes his nanny. Mrs. A is unstoppable and takes extraordinary pride in the running of the house and, of course, the kitchen.

When she saw me, she’d get up with the energy of someone who wasn’t tired in the least, then lead me into the kitchen to explain what dishes she had cooked for dinner, how to reheat them so they wouldn’t dry out and where to put the dirty pots and pans afterward. “Don’t bother washing them, I’ll do it tomorrow,” she’d always add. At the beginning I disobeyed her, but when I saw that in the morning she redid the dishes I’d washed anyway, I gave in to her command.

Naturally, the four become a tight family unit and Mrs. A becomes a grandmother figure to the child until one day Mrs. A calls to say she cannot run their home anymore. They’re unable to understand why, but they soon learn that Mrs. A is seriously ill. The couple now become her helpers as she navigates the medical system and tries to understand the course of treatment ahead of her.

Nothing dramatic happens in this story but what makes this a heartrending, thought-provoking novel is an array of elements that make us want to read everything Giordano has ever written. Giordano writes simply but is never simplistic in what he’s trying to convey. The clarity of expression throughout this novel gives it a luminous quality of a master at his craft. At every moment, Giordano stops to say something about the life of this couple or this marriage that makes us ponder our feelings about a similar moment in our lives. His brutal honesty scared me sometimes.

There are piercing insights into Mrs. A’s life upon her death. When he visits her home four months after her passing, he sees how the apartment has been eviscerated by relatives. Literally nothing is left of her possessions.

Where are the paintings that you kept hidden behind the screen? For years you didn’t even look at them, afraid the dust would damage them. Even the screen has disappeared, probably abandoned in some damp storeroom, wrapped in plastic and raised off the ground by a pallet. We have to consider the future, Mrs. A., always. You often boasted about how smart you were, how you learned everything you knew from experience, but unfortunately it didn’t turn out to be very useful. You would have been better off thinking about it more, because your common sense wasn’t enough to save you or your possessions. The end does not pardon us even the slightest of faults, even the most innocent of failings.

A great writer is one who shines the torch on the smallest moments, the barely discernible sighs of our lives. Giordano seems to do this with a fluidity and dexterity that I didn’t ever expect from a physicist.

What gives a man—whose basic training is over matter—such an uncanny ability to reflect on the fragile moments of life? Yet, when I looked up particle physics, I learned that a doctorate degree in the subject is a research-based degree that “helps students understand the fundamental particles of matter and how they interact.” Interesting, don’t you think?