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A review by edenist87
Gomorrah by Roberto Saviano
3.0
"A message on his flesh, which everyone in Mondragone and Formia would immediately understand."
I took a university course in 'Narrative Literary Journalism' styled around Truman Capote's approach to self-insertion and deep research into a particular story - lifting the lid if you will. It's fair to say that Gomorrah, a disentanglement and expose of Italian organised crime seen through all strata from Don to pusher, is Roberto Saviano's 'In Cold Blood'.
His description is vivid and narrative fluid, and there's a staggering attention to detail, particularly in sketching relationships between the web of figures driving the Neapolitan criminal economy. Yet where Capote was able to elicit character and emotive investment, Saviano sadly falls short. The laundry list of names and obituaries blurred into statistics and when depictions of gritty violence in Naples' concrete labyrinth landed, it didn't leave me feeling a loss that greater characterisation would create.
Which leads me to the opinion that this is the foundation of his life's work and one that is presumably fully realised through the famous TV adaptation, which I confess to not having seen yet. The pieces are all present in the chapters (particularly the early part on Chinese influence on inbound contraband, a baffling tale involving Angelina Jolie and later depiction of the international wing of the mafia), but the journalistic burden to pursue the unvarnished truth limits this book from realising what it might have been - that said, it's certainly to be admired as Saviano's life's work. And yes, he's still, fifteen years after publication, here.
I took a university course in 'Narrative Literary Journalism' styled around Truman Capote's approach to self-insertion and deep research into a particular story - lifting the lid if you will. It's fair to say that Gomorrah, a disentanglement and expose of Italian organised crime seen through all strata from Don to pusher, is Roberto Saviano's 'In Cold Blood'.
His description is vivid and narrative fluid, and there's a staggering attention to detail, particularly in sketching relationships between the web of figures driving the Neapolitan criminal economy. Yet where Capote was able to elicit character and emotive investment, Saviano sadly falls short. The laundry list of names and obituaries blurred into statistics and when depictions of gritty violence in Naples' concrete labyrinth landed, it didn't leave me feeling a loss that greater characterisation would create.
Which leads me to the opinion that this is the foundation of his life's work and one that is presumably fully realised through the famous TV adaptation, which I confess to not having seen yet. The pieces are all present in the chapters (particularly the early part on Chinese influence on inbound contraband, a baffling tale involving Angelina Jolie and later depiction of the international wing of the mafia), but the journalistic burden to pursue the unvarnished truth limits this book from realising what it might have been - that said, it's certainly to be admired as Saviano's life's work. And yes, he's still, fifteen years after publication, here.