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THE VERTICAL SUMMER

Apr 6, 2024 | BOOKS

The vertical summer by Chiara Sfregola published by Fandango is the book I received from Manuale di Mari whom I thank.

I don’t know if you already have an idea of what a ‘vertical’ summer might be like … I have wondered about it, and although I found the explanation in the book, I retain my own personal vision created by reading it.

Thinking about it now, vertical could also be the split between those who love summer and those who hate it.

How do you experience the summer season?

The protagonists of the book experience the emblematic events of their lives in summer: the timeline is in fact a relay of seven different female characters.

Very often we say ‘characters that revolve around’ in this case instead they move vertically, as in a descent inversely proportional to time passing, like a fall.

Like the summer that somehow represents the origin of all the events that strike in succession like a domino.

Dominoes whose tiles seem to fall even before they are hit.

Because they are imperfect tiles, unsatisfied with their role.

Everything seems too easy and it is exactly the ease with which things happen that makes them an unimportant outline, even successes, prestigious situations and luck seem totally irrelevant.

When nothing makes sense any more, the very construction of the book changes, like a restart whose initially stunted and unconvincing steps turn into a crescendo that corresponds to real growth.

The reader is taken to the epilogue with literally different writing, a form I particularly love.

And suddenly it all comes together.

GIOVANNI TOMMASINI

Jan 6, 2024 | BOOKS, BOOKS

With each new year in one way or another, we find ourselves with the thought of “beginning.”

I would like to quote Mary Shelley’s phrase
The beginning is always today.

At the beginning of the KCDC journey I could not imagine that I would have met you, perhaps we would not have had the chance to connect without the help of the web, or perhaps we would.

The network of virtual connections also led me to a very special ‘home base’: Giovanni’s concept of home base and baseball metaphor, which I suggest you discover directly from his words.

The KEEP CALM & DRINK COFFEE collaboration begins with this first article.

“The perfect setting for a chat: coffee” this is the presentation of this blog in which thoughts, comments, suggestions are collected and reposted, as if each of us had our favourite cup to show along with our passions and life stories.

It seems to me a good opportunity to start with a presentation of the beginning of the path that led me to get in touch with this reality, whose motto is ‘the site that gives you this opportunity’.

It is not every day that one hears these words.

In fact, when I read them, I could hardly believe the beauty of the willingness to create reciprocity and collaboration.

So I sent a message via social pages to return my enthusiasm for the proposal and opportunity for reciprocity.

After a few messages of first acquaintance, here I am to tell you my ‘writer for home’ story.

It started with the purchase of a laptop on special offer back in the winter of 2012.

It all started like this…

…….

“Gian I bought a laptop, I’m bringing it all down”.

That’s how I announced my desire to put my personal stories into story form.

Not only to tell them, but also to make them a road to follow, experiences to propose, to share, to relive together, each in his own world, in his memories, on his own emotional tone.

I set out to write…

Three pages on the ‘little unaware heroes of baseball’, I sent them to various publishing houses that dealt with sports, sports culture, sports education.

Fabio Mancini of G. Danna of Florence, Edusport.it website, called me.

“Tommasini, we really liked your way of romanticising reality, can you send us the whole story, we would like to publish it on our site as article of the month and we would like to make a DVD on the teaching of baseball in the physical education class in high schools.”

What had I written?

I’m going to review the e-mail, “I send you the first three pages of my story Little Unknowing Heroes of Baseball, fifteen teenagers who, in 1976, having just celebrated their age entering double figures, they were introduced to the art of baseball and nothing was ever the same again.

I forgot to write that the pages were the first but also the only ones…

The story was still to be written.

But the whole story was required for the edusport.it site.

I found myself in the same condition in which I had to do my homework for the holidays.

So I set to work.

They published it on the site as the article of the month of July, and on 1 August it was reported by the FIBS – Italian Baseball and Softball Federation on the official federal site.

Various sites, online editorial offices, especially baseballmania, began to contact me, as if electrocuted by the story.

“Something ravishes, the words go deep, those who read them do not forget them, indeed it is as if they rewrote them in relation to their own experience and emotional state”.

My name is Giovanni Colantuono from Nettuno, editor of the online site Baseballmania.

“Tommasini you’re the first one to tell baseball like this, there’s everything in your story, not just the batting, there’s all of us, our passions, the way we live life and sport, I can publish it, tell me about yourself, I want to know more, I’ll do a feature article on you, write others, let’s do a column dedicated to Giovanni Tommasini’s baseball stories, on the Little Unknowing of the Tomato baseball club.”

A few days after my debut as a writer, for the first time I was referred to as such.

What is going on, and how is my way of narrating my personal events re-enacted in a narrative so intimate that it elicits reactions in the reader that are also deeply personal, which are in the reading translated into a universal language, whereby the reader sees himself again, relives parts of himself and his own experience?

The first comments from readers arrived.

They would be of the same tenor as the comments of my first proofreader, once I had collected all the stories that in three months were written by me almost compulsively and which, within a few weeks of publication on the sites that requested them, would go on to form my first book.

I notice a common denominator.

My words excite, my description of the realities returned touch the emotional side, “the text possesses the quality proper to works of art, it excites” is how my text is commented on during editing.

You use a glass mirror to see your face; you use works of art to see your soul.
George Bernard Shaw

I begin to wonder why this ‘effect’ as I think of my writing?

Why did I start writing, where did the urge come from, the need to express an experience of mine, what need moved my will, led me feverishly to the keyboard, as if there was nothing else to do.

If the world were clear, art would not exist.
Albert Camus

In THE ART OF BASEBALL, the proposal, the requirement, the starting point was:

The story of the experience of some fifteen children who, starting from the basement of a car park in the centre of spectacular Sanremo, at the ‘mercy’ of two passionate, visionary personalities, will live an ‘adult’ experience at a still tender age.

The need to emphasise the beauty and depth of an adventure that will change them forever and teach them the pleasure of doing something well, with passion, curiosity, without thinking about results, but only to be able to fully express themselves, get to know each other better, grow together.

The articulation of the broader concept of growing up having the good fortune to be involved in an adventure disproportionate to one’s age, and the great value of passion, curiosity, friendship, healthy craziness that will lead these children to live an experience that will give them an indelible formation and imprint for their entire lives.

The memory of those years, places, feelings experienced, contexts, humanity, lived will be the sub-concepts that allowed the articulation and restitution of the stories told in the tales that make up THE ART OF BASEBALL.

Among the stories, one in particular totally involved me and was written solely by involving my emotional being.

For some time now, the concept of ‘addiction’ had been reverberating in me, the memory of one of our teammates getting ‘pierced’, our living through this drama, not knowing what to do, hiding our suffering and love for our beloved teammate.

Linked to the concept of dependence was that of our helplessness, that of our being too small in the face of such a big issue, our emotions that we could not express, dominate, live.

Which exploded in our worst nightmares, fantasies, suffocated suffering.

It was all a mixture of these ‘themes’ and I could not understand how to describe, return all this humanity, so intensely felt by all in inaccessible depths.

I was in the supermarket queue and like a flash of lightning ripping through the sky and clouds the story came to me. All the concepts that had grown up until then only created unexploded ordnance in me.

It was shocking and in me it began to rain, thunder, hail.

Arriving home in a hurry, I stood at the keyboard weeping and in twenty minutes, as if overwhelmed by a real ‘storm’, I wrote the story….

Now in play.

I asked myself, what to do?

Enjoy this first unexpected, never planned, unthinkable until a few months before, book or try to write something else, and what?

And how?

Everyone asks me one thing. Write Cesare.

Your story with the autistic child you have lived with for fifteen years.

I decide to go ahead. To stay in the game.

The project of giving back my first experience as a home educator is born.

I begin to ask myself questions and catch a glimpse of the path already unconsciously taken in writing the stories of THE ART OF BASEBALL.

The first answer to be given.

In the future second book, I AM CESARE …., what is the ‘experience’ to be returned?

Thinking back to the good fortune of having experienced the relationship with Cesare, a child suffering from a severe form of autism, an urgent and pressing need arose in me to represent concepts deeply rooted in this extreme experience, well ingrained in me, but to be brought to the light of awareness.

The first step other than the first three pages…

Now I am beginning to plan the path, a method is emerging, making clear the starting points, the roots of the story, long before I get in touch with everything else, which is still unclear in me, but on this occasion I am beginning to ‘see’ in the slow construction of the book.

On this occasion there is no longer occasionality, but a real ‘constructive thought’.

An awareness.

Being a project and not an accident, I begin to truly understand whether it will be possible to put myself forward as a writer or leave it at that, considering it a fortunate experience, my narrative debut and nothing more.

Pinning down what I want to express regardless of the story I am going to give back.

Art does not reproduce the visible but makes visible.
Paul Klee

And here I am at the keyboard telling you about the beginning of my journey and why I call myself a writer.

And here I am at the keyboard telling you about the beginning of my journey and why I call myself a writer by chance.

In the next few articles, one by one, I will introduce you to all the books that grew out of those first three pages.

Because from that story born by chance, ten years later, this past August, my twelfth book came out…

Below is an introduction written by Antonella Giordano during an interview for the release of one of my books following those first three pages…

Giovanni Tommasini

He likes to describe himself as a ‘writer by chance’ Giovanni Tommasini, more precisely’Writer by chance’ since 2013. Surely he is not just any writer, judging by the resonance that all his books have achieved, whose narratives indiscriminately follow in the footsteps of social and civil themes, especially concerning the ‘building of a helping relationship’.

For Giovanni Tommasini, social commitment is not a casual mission. A native of Sanremese, born in 1966, after graduating in political science from the University of Genoa, he has dedicated his life to bringing help to society’s neediest contexts.

A registered professional educator and seminarian, initially working as a collaborator in neighbourhood family counselling centres as a home help, since 1994 he has been an educator in the day centres and family homes of the Genova Integrazione Cooperative, under the Anffas brand. His professional experiences gained in the field make him an authoritative voice for understanding the panorama of the ills that afflict the many social realities of our time.

In his seminars, he offers debates and workshops on autism, emotional writing, internet addiction, sports culture and the new generations. He is the author of several books, among which the essays “Dad will you connect me?”, “Virus is us”, “Emotions and words. Emotional Writing’.

No less important and intense are the fiction texts ‘The American Dream of the Tomato Baseball Club’ ‘The Musicality of Silence. Our autism and that of the world around us’, ‘A life without. A story of everyday resilience’, ‘The last letter to my first girlfriend’, ‘Beaten earth. Being alive and going down to the net, that’s happiness’.

In the summer of 2023, the latest publishing endeavours of this prolific author produced the books ‘Well-Tempered Panic’, ‘Cinema and Sport, 12 Unforgettable Films’ and ‘Opposite World’.

All of this prolific author’s publishing endeavours have been produced by him and published on Amazon.
Antonella Giordano.

Giovanni Tommasini Stories of life lived in a forgotten world where the only social platforms were the Other and reality.

Blog: here.

Amazon: link.

FAME D’ARIA – HUNGER FOR AIR

May 20, 2023 | BOOKS

Fame d’aria – Hunger for air is the latest book by Daniele Mencarelli published by Mondadori.

Daniele Mencarelli has needed no introduction for a while now.

Fame d’aria – Hunger for air appealed to me because of the structure, the writing and the way in which in real time the reader gets the full load of the eighteen years of life with Jacopo.

Jacopo is not the main character; Jacopo is Peter’s son, Pete is a man.

I say just a man because that is what I thought as I got to know him one line after another.

Pete is not a superhero, he is not a champion, he is not even an example. Peter is simply a person, a human being, as are all those who try to behave in the right way against the waves of the storm that is life: an incessant and continuous lashing that hits inexorably.

Also for this reading I thank Monica, and then I also say thank you to Luciana for pointing me to the meeting with the writer organized by The Pleasure of Telling.

In this way I was able to listen directly to Daniele Mencarelli’s words and find out how his need to tell this story came about.

About six years ago he met a Peter and began to put the pieces together, details that seem to have no importance until the accumulation becomes an element that turns into writing, thinking about how to translate a memory “saved with a name” as if it were a document that has the power to illuminate the path to which to give life.

The immersion inside a life that was not his own was brutal for Daniele Mencarelli; no frieze was allowed to hide the disfigurement that always had to prevail.

In this book the author shifted to the third person while always keeping the present tense because he likes to give the impression that the events happen as they are read because he feels they are less distant.

I must say that the goal was fully achieved because even me as a reader felt literally inside the story.

The novel has an antecedent: in 2000 while going for a beer, Peter meets Bianca. They recognize each other and it is love at first sight.

In 2023 Pietro is a 50-year-old man and his car breaks down in Molise, with him there isn’t Bianca, there is his son Jacopo who is 18 years old and unfortunately has very low-functioning autism.

The village where they stop to look for a mechanic: Sant’Anna del Sannio does not exist in reality although it resembles many places that each of us can identify.

Pete and Jacopo are headed to Puglia where Bianca is waiting for them to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary.

The unexpected lasts three days and revolves around three characters: Oliviero the mechanic, Agata the bar owner, and Gaia. Thanks to her, we enter the father’s inner world and discover everything that families like theirs lack.

Basic seed: the scene as a moment of unveiling the human exactly as I was telling you about the Peter who I discovered while reading.

Daniele Mencarelli was born as a poet, poetry is able to name things, it captures the depth with respect to the scene. Narrative, on the other hand, is architecture of scenes that then takes the form of plot and psychological arc of the characters.

In fact, poetry should not be “strict poetic language,” but should live within the elements of the novel form.

Literature is a gesture that is meant to bear witness.

These words of Daniele Mencarelli find a particular embodiment in the book Fame d’aria – Hunger for air , I think.

But what struck me most was to learn about the author’s personal “hunger for air.”

Over-inked pages that give a sense of claustrophobia.

From this “hunger for air” literally comes the need to open up vertical spaces in the horizontal narrative.

The need to perceive much presence of white, that is, need to break the sentence and go to the head as if it were a need for air.

Reasoning as a poet in certain moments of the human you arrive with a broken speech. In the highest places of the human one arrives only with lyric.

A personal hunger for air.

How about you? When do you feel your hunger for air?

I WAS BORN ON THE DAY OF THE PIAZZA FONTANA MASSACRE

Dec 17, 2022 | WHO CARES

I was born on the day of the Piazza Fontana massacre, and I defy even those who are not superstitious not to see ominous signs in it.

I was born at home, on the kitchen table, like a fresh loaf of bread in the early morning.

When my mother shaked my father telling “it’s time,” he just turned on the other side and went on sleeping.

How could I blame him? I was coming to dawn as importunate as an alarm clock.

I was born in Cilavegna and I am one of the last people to be able to say this: as of January 1970 it was no longer possible to use a midwife, and it became mandatory to give birth in a hospital. Since there were no hospitals in Cilavegna, from that date on, new babies saw the light elsewhere.

I was born in Lomellina, land of fog and mosquitoes, but my father is of Venetian descent and my great-grandmother on my mother’s side was German. I am basically a mixture.

I was born into a simple family, Ihad simple things and a happy childhood.

My maternal grandmother, who looked after me from the time my mother resumed her job as a clerk, had swollen knees from all her mondina days, and, unable to move nimbly, entertained me by telling stories.

The result was that, before I began to walk, I spoke perfectly without the classic infantile mispronunciations, and I knew nursery rhymes, prayers and numbers.

Words were my first games, my first friends, my first nourishment.

Nevertheless, the kindergarten debut was quite traumatic: my shyness was relentless.

I had not yet understood the pleasure of chatting and socializing, a concept I largely recovered after the middle ages of adolescence.

But let us proceed step by step: for the nuns who conducted the kindergarten, my interaction defect was not a noteworthy aspect, quite the contrary. Rather, the problem was created by my inability to fall asleep after lunch.

Standing still in my cot, I would silently weave the bangs of the rough plaid under which I was supposed to fall asleep instead.

I did not feel that I was creating a disturbance, but that was one of my first errors of judgment: I still have clear memories of the reprimand from Sister Antonia, who among the sisters was the better and quieter one.

Thereafter rather than the bangs I took to interweaving my attempts at intentionality with my grandfather’s big heart. He would work night shifts and in the morning, exhausted, instead of going to rest. he would accommodate my requests, effectively endorsing the intent to skip kindergarten.

A tumor took him away when I was only five years old leaving me a huge void and an unfulfilled desire in return.

He used to tell me “as soon as I retire I will teach you German.”

During the war he was used as an interpreter after a German officer, striking him, heard him reply in his own language.

I thought I would learn easily, that I would listen happily as with Grandma’s stories, but instead he could tell me no more.

When elementary school time came, there was no school on Thursdays, but by then I didn’t care much.

Some people still called us remiges: lined up in rows of two, hand in hand, with our overcoats over our black aprons from which sprouted the big blue bow knotted under the white collar.

It began on the first of October when the desks were still desks, and the folders contained a checkbook and a ruled notebook, small ones, with the blotting paper for the ink of fountain pens: witnesses to a writing that no longer exists.

… TO BE CONTINUED.

Pic by Massimo

ELENA AND LAURA

Dec 12, 2021 | THE X-MAS CAROLS

Fifth day of the Advent calendar with Elena and Laura: two sisters and a room of books!

I find the sharing of this strong passion for reading between two sisters fantastic.

Elena and Laura make me think back to the times when my brother and I exchanged books, in our case the preferences were a bit different, but this was an added value for me: in some way this helped to complete.

My brother writes very well, even though he doesn’t want me to say it.

So I will say that Elena and Laura are really good and talented, I followed their The house of souls published serial on the blog and, in case you haven’t read it yet, I absolutely recommend that you retrieve it!

I also report their novel The secret of the trees of which I anticipate only one name: Endelaman Crosel who struck me not only for the particularity, but because it was invented by Elena-child-version.

The Christmas story by Elena and Laura instead is called Christmas, snow and chocolate:

A snowball hit the mailbox just as Ella was closing the shop. She turned abruptly and met the eyes of two children intent on a battle: they seemed mortified. She smiled and waved at them. The two smiled in turn and ran towards the park… go on here.