Erotic and Pink Fiction
An author who is among the most sensitive to the problems of customs and contemporary sociality developed by western civilisation, with a decidedly predominant vocation for the enchanting charm of the word, but far from being distant or absent from the consortium of other muses, namely music, the art of images – including painting and sculpture – as well as philosophy and, last but not least, psychology and, last but not least, psychoanalysis, psychology and, hence, psychoanalysis, Roberto Costantini appears as a writer as complete as he is restless, rightly self-confident and, consequently, inevitably uncertain and problematic, ready to contradict himself, precisely because he is aware of the historical irrelevance of absolute truth, now blurred in an ideologised projection that appears almost idealistic madness.
The wisdom of the West appears represented in his work, The allegre comari di Windows, like the bickering of a consortium of valetudinarians who consult each other in scattered chatter on the art of getting by. And it is precisely this, at the end of the licence, that is the masterly touch of Cyrano de Bergerac: how can one survive such rampant madness any longer? Horace taught it, Virgil reiterated it, Dante illustrated it, Erasmus ironised it and Shakespeare sumptuously dramatised it. We must get on with it, without thinking. The Neapolitans use an admirable expression “facite ammuina”. Let us stop here, even though the list of masters to lean on could go on for anywhere and for any time.
It is well known that we live in a without masters, but by counterbalance crowded with a myriad of singers, strummers, musicians, acrobats, troubadours and conjurers: the sacred no longer exists, but we are submerged like sponges in the sea of village festivals, from the sesquipedalian tennis or football tournaments to the Sanniti truffle and nougat festivals.
In this massive celebration of the nullity of being, which has become our Hamletian condition of being in the renunciation of being, we stand at the window of our time. What, then, is the window of our time? Roberto Costantini says it with absolute clarity: it is the chat! We have nothing else, apart from our useless chattering on the Internet, on blogs, on Instagram, Facebook, Tik Tok, ex-Twitter, now become X, and yet another hodgepodge of other acronyms, grown like the dry stubble that spreads in fords or in ponds, or rather in rotten areas, where the grass never stops growing, like the chatter in the chats ………
Synonyms source: Genesis.org
Publication date: 27 March 2024
Roberto Costantini is an Italian author.
