Don’t let me go away

An unforgettable childhood in the heart-shaped island.

A troubled love story in the charming Sicily of the 60s.

A past obscurely connected with the present as well as with an incommunicable secret.

A physical and emotional journey through the disease and pain in order to rediscover the strength of an existential rebirth, which is as unpredictable and desired as life…

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cover don't let me go away

DON’T LET ME GO AWAY

Novel

by Maria Amata Di Lorenzo

(published by Portosicuro Editore in Italy)  

in English and Italian

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AVAILABLE IN ENGLISH

ebook – paperback

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“The novel Don’t let me go away is a wonderful and powerful story of a mother. And of a daughter who runs away without knowing that her destiny is to love her mother and the story her mother wants to tell her. Becoming reconciled with the idea that each of us does not really enter into the meaning of existence if he (or she) does not accept other people, unless he loves his mistakes.

Maria Amata Di Lorenzo gives us the voice of an intense woman, which is composed, poetic. A melody that unfolds majestically, revealing little by little the complexity of human relationships, our expectations, the love that cannot be fulfilled until after an entire story to tell.

With a language that is correspondence, chronicle of the sixties, and rhythmical review of changing life, it marks the heart of the reader, remains there and takes root…”

(Simona Lo Iacono, from the blog Letteratitudine)

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hanks (3)

PLOT

Francesca broke off relations with the past. One day she went away from Rome. It was after Luca’s tragic death, her dearly loved brother. Many kilometers had to separate her from pain. What she wanted the most was to break off relations with her mother, by whom she has never felt loved. Her mother has always preferred Luca, who knows why, and has always hidden her heart from her daughter; as an impenetrable old-time Sicilian woman, she has wrapped herself in the greatest secrecy, which has become increasingly irritating and incomprehensible, as heavy and thick as the mantle of a moonless night.

However, her mother has something in store for her: a diary written during the days of her illness, with the uncertainty of survival and the urgent need to tell about herself as she had never done before with his daughter.

Her mother Silvana explains that her illness is a long journey of which she knows the meaning, but not the destination. And the sense is in the truth that has been kept away from their lives for too long, but it is the only thing that is able to light up their difficult journey as women. This is possible through pain and that old courage that every pain is capable of releasing with love and memory.

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WE LIKE IT BECAUSE…

Readers Talk About It

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“I read this novel on a trip and I was hooked to the point that I recommend it to all my friends. When you find out something beautiful, the first desire is that other people find it out too.” (Gianpaolo)

“For a long time, I had not read something making me feel excited and moved so intensely, up to the heart of my being, and my being a woman. First, I recommend this novel to all women, but not only to them, because its language is universal and speaks to the hearts and minds of all men and women of the third millennium. I define ‘Don’t let me go away’ as the best novel of the last years and I would not be surprised at all if it were to become the Italian best-seller of the 2000s. It’s a really beautiful novel.” (Angelica)

“I read the book ‘Don’t let me go away’ by Maria Amata Di Lorenzo and found it very intense; while going through the chapters, I realized that I was more and more enthralled and fascinated and, in my opinion, this is the purpose of every writer, that is conveying emotions to the readers. Maria Amata Di Lorenzo is a writer who knows how to make her readers experience strong emotions.” (Salvo)

“How nice to know that there are writers who can write a novel like this, it is definitely beautiful, this novel is beautiful, I have no words to describe it… this story is still in my heart, even after having closed its pages, I bring it with me, I cannot do otherwise, it is intense, full of gifts. Yes, if you read this story, you cannot help feeling enriched, this never happens, so I recommend it to everyone, please read it. It contains a lot of poetry, the taste of life; there are reflections and feelings, sixty years of Italian history in the background of the bittersweet story of a Sicilian family, from the post-war period to the present day. First-rate writing, she is an outstanding author, she can write very well, she can tell, she makes you live every single emotion as if you were part of it too, and this only belongs to real writers. The ending is open, and it is the most beautiful thing. You can just sum up the story within yourself and discover the links and turning points that you may not have understood before. In my opinion, the ending is magical because you are the reader, but also a character, you have to think about what you read and draw conclusions. You realize that it has left you something, that is the magic of life.” (Pietro)

“After you read it, writing a review is not easy. It is so beautiful that you cannot find the right words to describe this little masterpiece. I read it by chance, but it left an indelible mark in my heart. It is among the unforgettable books I have read.” (Donald)

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Free download the first chapter of this book!

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cover don't let me go awayDON’T LET ME GO AWAY

Novel

by Maria Amata Di Lorenzo

(published by Portosicuro Editore in Italy)  

AVAILABLE IN ENGLISH

ebook – paperback

***

A love story between a woman and a man, between a mother and her children, between a Sicilian and her sublime and sacrosanct homeland. While everything comes to pass and every certainty crumbles, only love remains.

Silvana is fifty years old, has just undergone a delicate breast surgery operation for the removal of a tumour and is spending her convalescence in her homeland of Sicily, in the company of her memories. Professor Orlano, the surgeon who operated on her, suggested she keep a diary during her stay, and, with each passing day, while waiting to return to Rome to undergo radiation therapy, she thinks back on her life and the difficulties of her womanhood in an archaic land of a thousand taboos, forms of violence and interdictions.

A life full of hardships and sacrifices, disappointments and misunderstandings that have ended up creating, day after day, an ever greater barrier between her and her daughter, Francesca, an actress restlessly touring the world. It is for her that Silvana begins her journey, the most difficult and most important of her whole life, that which he will lead her deep into herself and her soul finally stripped bare so that a particular light may shine, that of the truth, though painful and brutal, the truth that, alone, will set her free.

The unspoken, unuttered words, due to fear, shame or cowardice, remain within, weighing down and eventually poisoning the heart. Faced with the thought of the disease, the creeping approach of death, Silvana understands that she can no longer escape, cover her eyes and ears or take refuge once again in cowardice.

In the big house, emptied of voices, that overlooks the promontory of Gibilmanna and, in the evening, the lights of the bay, the story of her family gradually plays out before her eyes, like a film. In her memory everything is stopped, frozen in an eternal, incorruptible and yet alive present. She relives the perfumed braids of grandmother Beata, a mythical companion of childhood, with her rituals, epiphanies and the exact science of dreams; a dark and lonely adolescence marked by the betrayal of her father, who one day left for the Americas in search of fortune and there was swallowed up whole only to mysteriously reappear after thirteen years, then foreign to her childlike eyes of love and disappointment; a relationship of unresolved conflict with her mother Isolina, whose mouth was miserly of kisses; a claustrophobic education that withers dreams and that, after discovering love with her peer Enzo, who dreams of leaving the island to establish himself as a writer, and whom she loses expecting his son, pushes her into an unhappy marriage with a Communist Party leader, the future father of Francesca; then the growth of the children, so different between them, and the subsequent detachment; and the difficult leaden years lived in the bourgeois tranquillity of an apartment in Rome, touched by the long shadow of terrorism.

Thus she relives a lifetime in the shadow of a secret, the paternity of her son jealously guarded for so many years, but which has not preserved her family from pain and dispute. Luca, Enzo’s son, a composer with a fragile and tormented artist’s sensitivity, dies in a car accident that to many seems suicide. And believing her mother has loved no other than him, Francesca decides to leave, burn bridges and thus amplify an already latent conflict with her mother, an old disaffection deriving of mistakes made and love not shown.

To be a mother and to be a good mother, indeed, are separated by a sea of naivety and mistakes and missteps made, more often than not in perfectly good faith, but due to a lack of reliable models and adequate experience. Love, true love, comes only through knowledge. It cannot be built on emptiness, on absence. And if you do not understand this, then you find yourself back at the starting point, just as in the board game ‘Snakes and Ladders’, destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over again.

But now Silvana knows that love is everything in life, because ‘in that incomprehensible journey from mystery to the mystery encompassing the sense of all human life, it is always love that shows the way’.

Silvana is aware of perhaps not having very many more opportunities for dialogue with her daughter and therefore decides to tell all, to open her heart as he has never done before, not as in a diary or a will, but rather as the tale of a journey, that of a girl in a stone house arriving, through the years, to consciousness and freedom, among the thousand simulacra of life.

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On Amazon a reader assigned the maximum of 5 stars to the novel with this motivation:

This book, which touches the heartstrings of your soul, speaks of a painful journey back into the memories of a lifetime, to tell, without shame or prejudice, to an angry and estranged daughter, from an open heart, of those emotions petrified in the evolution of a life, often more spectator than protagonist, of broken dreams and dashed expectations, now hardened and disenchanted. All with a careful eye, lightness of touch and an incredibly realistic fifty years of history to frame it. This book is pure poetry. YOU HAVE TO READ IT. It’s amazing!!! – Donald, verified Amazon customer

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Editorial reviews

 

cover don't let me go awayDelia Morea of Viadellebelledonne:

A novel of strong emotions is the latest literary effort of Maria Amata Di Lorenzo, ‘Don’t let me go away’, in which the writer brings to bear all her knowledge of writing but also her whole heart, offering us a story of, yes, emotions, but also intimate reflections on life and death, a story that is not easily forgotten yet can be read all in one breath.

Silvana, mother and wife, marked by the most fierce and relentless disease of our times (having undergone breast surgery before being subjected to radiotherapy) returns to Sicily, her homeland, for a period of rest and reflection. Silvana brings with her deep wounds that are not only product of the disease but of her difficult relationship with her second-born child Francesca, a restless and rebellious daughter who ran away wanting to burn bridges with the past, and of the memory of Luca, her first child, apparently her favourite, who died in a car accident.

Silvana, confined to her old family home, decides to write a diary of her life, almost as a metaphorical last will and testament, perhaps as a confession, dedicated to Francesca, so that she might finally understand all the love that she has never managed to express and a truth that has been kept from her. This journey inside herself, her memories, memories of her family, first transports us through the story of an impoverished family, locked in the hardness of island life, in a world that no longer exists and in which women bear the brunt of the family, yet which is an extraordinary world where ancient wisdoms, with almost mythical roots, are the suggestive backdrop to all.

Silvana’s grandmother, Beata, with her gnarled face and hands, scarred by sun and fatigue, is an archetypal character. She projects the importance and great significance of the great mothers of the South, of their undisputed value in society and collective memory. Then her mother, Isolina, is a woman locked in a mask of dignity, having endured and suffered much in life and having been robbed young and for many years of her husband Gerlando, of fisherman’s ancestry, who had to leave for America in search of other fortunes.

It is an ancient family of strong women, including Silvana, who, from the beginning, is untrusting and headless of her own mother’s unexpressed love, and then is a young woman in love and finally an unhappy wife and herself a mother. Around them, all the male characters complete the composition, with varied characters and vivaciousness. The plotline, along which the story, with twists and turns, unveils hidden truths, dramatically bringing them to light, is dominated by Silvana with all the subtleties and nuances that a female soul can preserve, with the deep and oft misunderstood love of a mother, in a difficult and thankless role.

Accompanying this is the universal and spasmodic search to love and be loved (a purpose that has always driven the world), by Silvana, by Francesca and by the other characters, a sense of death around the corner and a regret for might could have been.

With composite prose, fine and fluid writing, proceeding  through flashbacks, Maria Amata Di Lorenzo brings us a novel that may be read at various levels, that is cinematic in its descriptions, in the force of its varied characters, in its vivid and fascinating atmospheres and that has a determined pace that never abandons the reader, a well-orchestrated chorus of voices and an appropriate background that transports us from the post-war history of our country to the present day.

It is, above all, a novel of great poetic depth, as is typical of the style of Maria Amata Di Lorenzo, who analyzes the profound truths of life, of suffering, of love, of what can happen and what does happen to us human-beings. It is thus a story that involves us, in which we see our own reflections, and as such it belongs to everyone. It is a modern yet ancient story of feelings and memories, so as not to forget, to preserve inside the value of being alive, of having a significance even after death, for those who come next, ‘through the pain and that ancient courage that every pain is capable of redeeming with the power of love and of memory’, as Maria Amata Di Lorenzo writes.

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cover don't let me go awaySalvo Zappulla of Art Litteram:

This is a story of extraordinary intensity, written, through the technique of flashbacks, by a writer who knows how to invoke acute emotions in her readers. Silvana, having undergone breast surgery for the removal of a tumour, goes back to Sicily for a period of convalescence. For her it is like going back in time to unravel the threads of memory, a path that unwinds slowly backward to reopen the wounds of the soul. Death hovers, makes its disturbing presence known and calls for a freeing of conscience, a liberation of the heavy burden of troublesome memories. It is a novel of great introspective force with a background of archaic noises and smells of the island of Sicily in the first half of the twentieth century, of the contradictions of this peculiarly fascinating land of deprivation and life as a penance to be paid, where everything is sin, everything is forbidden, where social conventions and claustrophobic rules require women to not express their feelings, to suppress their own sexuality. Silvana has some burdensome secrets to keep, an illegitimate child, an existential anguish that oppresses her, a conflictual relationship with her daughter, a lost love, a man married reluctantly. The needle of the gramophone of her life has forged deep ruts in her heart and brings to light strident notes of lost youth.

These are all the ingredients for a great psychoanalytical novel. Maria Amata Di Lorenzo uses an admirable and uncommon generosity of language (not without lexical charms) and a fluid style that opens up scenarios in which reflection and analysis are developed amongst narrative tension. The novel has a special structure that lends peculiarity to the story narrated. Through the pages of this book unfolds the testimony of an existential inner journey, of a life apparently resigned to violent events accepted with painful composure, but which struggles not to succumb. Perhaps it is an uncomfortable story that might trouble our consciences as it forcibly shakes our indifference and brings us a small fortune in emotions.

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Interview

‘Love is a force that has the power to heal us’

Maria Amata Di Lorenzo and her new novel ‘Don’t let me go away’

by SIMONA LO IACONO

A hand rests on tree bark, trembles on contact, feels the warmth of the sap running under it. It is one of those Sicilian days on which the light shines indecently and every thing migrates into each other, revealing the uniqueness of all, the secret assonance of every element of the universe. Silvana looks up. Gibilmanna is at her feet, falling away to the sea, making her heart gallop towards the blue. All now seems but a dream. The disease, the past, the unspoken words. From shame, pain and fear. There is only this time left, she knows, as a brief concession of fate. There is one last chance to reveal all, to mend the tears in the fabric of life, to confess to her daughter that, perhaps, not only those who are alive are afraid of being left, but above all the dead, or those about to die.

So she begins to write, not to get anything in return, not to be forgiven, not to justify herself, but to remind those who remain that the only destiny to which we are called is compassion. Even when life goes on without revealing its hidden grief, its forbidden births, its fortuneless love affairs. Even when it is convenient to say nothing, to turn a blind eye, to give in to the rituals of composure and good manners. Even then, we are saved only by that understanding of another’s pain, with its sin and its misery.

The novel Don’t let me go away is a wonderful and powerful story of a mother. And of a daughter who runs away without knowing that her destiny is to love her mother and the story her mother wants to tell her. Becoming reconciled with the idea that each of us does not really enter into the meaning of existence if he (or she) does not accept other people, unless he loves his mistakes.

Maria Amata Di Lorenzo gives us the voice of an intense woman, which is composed, poetic. A melody that unfolds majestically, revealing little by little the complexity of human relationships, our expectations, the love that cannot be fulfilled until after an entire story to tell.

With a language that is correspondence, chronicle of the sixties, and rhythmical review of changing life, it marks the heart of the reader, remains there and takes root…

I thus asked Maria Amata to reveal the secret of this nostalgia that resonates on every page, that seduces and enchants.

– Dear Maria Amata, Silvana is rather more than a character. She is a voice, and the reader is accompanied by her tones and even her breath itself. How did you come across this character? How did she come to ask you to give her life?

One night I went to sleep, but having switched off the light, between wakefulness and sleep, I saw a face in my mind. It was that of a woman, Silvana, the protagonist of the novel, who was almost knocking at the door of my consciousness for me to open it and tell her story. I turned the light back on and jotted down some sentences, almost as they were being dictated to me, and then went back to sleep.

The next day and in the following months, I wrote the novel almost without knowing anything about the story, which took form before me a little at a time, day by day, as if a voice were talking into my ear… On rereading, I found that Silvana, the main character, although far from me in terms of birthplace and existential experience, shared many aspects of my own character. Unconsciously, I had given her my sensibility and, perhaps, certain melancholy and more introspective aspects of my nature.

But there are parts of me also in the personality of Francesca, the rebellious daughter who chooses to burn bridges after the death of her brother Luca and who has never felt loved by her mother or been able to understand or penetrate her invincible reserve, as thick and heavy as the mantle of a moonless night. It has to be said that, in this novel, I have used a lot of fantasy in telling the events of the story, but the feelings, all the feeling that are narrated, are real.

– And what about Sicily, the silence of its women and their fate of resignation in the legacy of motherhood? You’re not Sicilian, so how come you decided to talk about this land?

It’s true, I’m not Sicilian. I was born in central Italy and I have ancestry from the Trentino region. But I am particularly attached to Sicily, by elective affinities if we want to call them such, so much so that over the years I have devoted various other works to Sicily; a play, ‘The Sirocco Room’, an essay, the biography of Judge Rosario Livatino, a short story, ‘South of the Heart’, and even a collection of poems, ‘Sicilian Notebook’.

As you can see, I am hand in glove with this beautiful island, which I love in all its dimensions, even in its strongest and often lacerating contradictions. Sicily as a metaphor, wrote Leonardo Sciascia. And it’s true. For me, it is the existential paradigm in which all narrative coordinates that are important to me are conjugated; beauty and dreams, pain and death, love and mourning, life and desire.

At the time I wrote the first draft of the novel (because ‘Don’t let me go away’ underwent three different drafts over 17 years), I didn’t have any friends in Sicily. They came later, as you know, but I hold them very dear. The only person I knew, but only in an epistolary sense, was Gesualdo Bufalino, the great Sicilian writer, who was very important for me to approach. I esteemed him a lot and one day I looked for his address and wrote to him. To my great surprise, he wrote back. And when I sent him some of my writings, with great trepidation, since we are talking about 20 years ago and I had just began to scribble out some things, I completely entrusted myself to his judgment, so that if he had told me to give it all up, I would have done so unflinchingly.

Instead, Bufalino praised me and told me to keep going, encouraged me to never give up in the face of difficulties that I would certainly meet along the way. And for me that was very important, I remembered that every time an editor binned my writings, every time a no came back. The words of that great Sicilian writer were, and still are, a beacon in my life as a writer.

– Your novel ‘Don’t let me go away’ is a wonderful and powerful story of a mother, and of a daughter who runs away without knowing that her true destiny is to love her mother and the story her mother has to tell. It is about reconciliation with the idea that we cannot understand the meaning of our existence if we do not accept and love one other, despite our mistakes. In this sense, we are all part of both characters, in who holds back, in who runs away, in who makes mistakes, in who forgives, in who asks for forgiveness and in who cannot bring themselves to do so. Is it this circularity that we call human compassion?

Yes, Simona, you’re right. You have an extraordinary ability to see the underlying depth of the story, which not everyone has. ‘Don’t let me go away’ is first and foremost a story of love, conjugated in multiple forms. There is indeed a great love story between Silvana, the main character, and Enzo, whom she loses early on in life and from whom she expects a son, but there is also the difficult and contentious love story between Silvana and her two children, Luca and Francesca. On another level, there is the poignant and unassailable love story between the protagonist and her homeland, Sicily, that she must leave due to the circumstances of life, yet that she bears forever in her heart, only to return at the most difficult, most vulnerable moment of her existence, when the discovery of a grave illness puts her emotionally with her back to the wall.

As you have understood, it is a story that expresses the need for reconciliation. A reconciliation that, first of all, must come from ourselves, from the ability to forgive ourselves, and that is absolutely the hardest thing. After all, we are the hardest judges of our own selves and we struggle to forgive ourselves and to let ourselves be loved. As an author, I was very interested in exploring this dynamic, in understanding the meaning of true reconciliation, that originates first in us, that becomes mercy, that is love. Love is a force that has the power to hurt us immensely, but also the immense power to heal us. At one point, towards the end of the novel, Silvana expresses it in this way; ‘To have left behind so many people dear to me, today I know that death does not divide when mercy is born of love, even lost, rejected and then miraculously found, and acknowledged. In that incomprehensible journey from mystery to the mystery encompassing the sense of all human life, it is always love that shows the way’.

© Simona Lo Iacono – all rights reserved

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My readers’ comments…

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Dear Maria Amata,

I read your novel in one breath and I found in it the story of so many women, who through their pain, more or less acknowledged, have allowed women of the next generation to take a few steps forward along the path of personal growth.

We are those women, with our legacy of pain and hope, the flower and the wound that we carry inside us and the instruments of knowledge, available to us now, to allow us to become even more aware, responsible and authentic in relation to ourselves and to those around us. Or to try at least. To do it for ourselves and to lighten the load for our daughters and their daughters, for we have been kept away too long from our deep instinctual nature, by fragmentation, separation of mind and heart, vulnerability and power.

And the loss of the creative alliance between men and women…

Today, we can create circles of sisterhood to take care of ourselves as the women who came before us could never do, and yet it is they that paved the way for us…

I like that the end of your book is open and that the protagonist can be understood to have the opportunity for a fuller life in which to learn, albeit with difficulty, to be a mother of herself.

I hug you in an imaginary circle of sisterhood and I thank you.

Annalisa Borghese

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Dear Maria Amata,

With inexcusable delay, I have finally read your novel ‘Don’t let me go away’. I liked very much. It is of a painful but coherent intensity. Well done!

Valentina Fortichiari

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There is, in the novel, a rhythm of writing, a music, which is characteristic of those narrators who have ears trained for poetry. And there is also a continual return to childhood, to those words, those images that become engraved in the hearing of children, shaping their inner worlds. It is all expressed with a clarity of expression of one who loves and meditates words…

Nicola Cinquetti

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Dear Maria Amata,

I am reading your novel at the moment, and I won’t allow myself to make judgments of any kind, only that your book makes you read it and read it with pleasure, that it tells a story that is exciting and intriguing, that you enter directly into contact with a world, that of Sicily, to me unknown, as seen from inside a normal family, that you truly have a special gift for writing and that you make reflections from time to time that I feel totally in agreement with. I have not finished reading yet, but in the meantime I would just like to say … thank you!!!

Caterina

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Dearest Maria Amata,

I was finally able to read your novel. Well, I didn’t just read it, I devoured it eyes wide open. Line by line, in the darkness of my room, with my cat tangled among the wires of a lent PC. I drank it all down in one go and now I would like to re-read it, taking all the time to savour its scents, its essence … but it has already left me with an intense flavour that I know will not abandon me. When you read a story and you too become part of that story, when it jibes with you, you dream, you love and you suffer along with the characters, it means that the author has fulfilled her purpose.

I like to write and I know what it means to put into words the feelings that throb inside us, I know the effort it takes at times to find the right word to bring that emotion to life for others and I know how rewarding it is to be told that, in reading our writing, the reader is moved, feels joy and laughs out loud … I know, and so, Maria Amata my dear, this is why I am telling you that your novel is such a compelling letter, a letter that has kept me up all night to be able to now, over a coffee, write these few lines to THANK YOU.

Thank you for telling stories in which we can lose ourselves to then find ourselves and to understand others better.

Daniela Mannoli

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I wonder if it happens to everyone to feel the same as me reading your pages? I have been reading your book carrying within me a mother, a grandmother and a daughter. Our own story is completely different, yet on every page I read there are lines of connection to any number of possibilities, differences, similarities, past memories and reflections on the future. The pages generate thoughts of all kinds, regrets, fears, advice and relief. And so the book I am reading is surely not the book you have written. I am rewriting it in my mind with details that I cannot at all help but add. Does this happen to every reader of yours? It certainly does not happen with every book. Reading yours is an rare experience indeed.

Usually novels take me to altogether someplace else, entertaining me in the full sense of the word. Yours brings me here to what I have inside. I think this value of your writing is one of the qualities authors need, to be enhancers of reality. Beyond the plot (as a passionate consumer of TV series, I really admire the frenetic factory of plot weavers that produce quantities of product at industrial speeds), beyond the prose (and each of us, reader or writer, has his own personal code of reference by which we judge other people’s prose, just like men at a bar judge the work of the national team coach), beyond the vanity of the writer (this is what those who ask us why we want our book published think), there are qualities, in a story, which make it a text that deserves to be disseminated.

What I have tried to express above, what I find so powerful in your pages, is your ability to bring the reader inside himself so that he comes out the other side enriched, somewhat more than he was before.

Dear Maria Amata, I have not yet finished reading your book, so expect other such reflections as this!

Kisses,

Giulia Ghini

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On Amazon a reader assigned the maximum of 5 stars to the novel with this motivation:

This book, which touches the heartstrings of your soul, speaks of a painful journey back into the memories of a lifetime, to tell, without shame or prejudice, to an angry and estranged daughter, from an open heart, of those emotions petrified in the evolution of a life, often more spectator than protagonist, of broken dreams and dashed expectations, now hardened and disenchanted. All with a careful eye, lightness of touch and an incredibly realistic fifty years of history to frame it. This book is pure poetry. YOU HAVE TO READ IT. It’s amazing!!!

Donald

***

cover don't let me go awayDon’t let me go away

Novel

by Maria Amata Di Lorenzo

(published  by Portosicuro Editore in Italy)  

AVAILABLE IN ENGLISH

ebook – paperback

 

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