'A Girl Returned' by Donatella Di Pietrantonio, Ann Goldstein
It felt almost like a match-made in heaven, to be honest. I had just switched my degree from French to Italian (since I wanted to do something new), and was looking to discover more of Italian literature. So, when I was singing up for EuropaEditionsUK newsletter and received this as a gift, I was ecstatic. Not only did it match my interest (and was free, which my student’s wallet is forever grateful for) but they gave one that certainly draws me more towards Italian literature, along with Italo Calvino’s The Castle of Crossed Destinies that I read earlier on. And of course, this is all thanks to the translator Ann Goldstein, who gave this story another captivating voice that allows the story to be accessible to the Anglophone readers.
“From the moment I was given back to her, the word “mama” had stuck in my throat like a frog that wouldn’t jump out”
This novel, which sets in late 20th century Italy, follows the nameless narrator nicknamed the Arminuta, a word that in the dialect from the region of Abruzzo in Italy means ‘the returned’. Indeed, the story opens with a young girl standing in front of the door of her biological parents, whose existence she never knew until recently. Therefore, she is indeed a returned daughter. Or is she?
The label is in a sense much contested: how much can it be considered that she has returned when this past, this origin is so alienated to her? Through out the story, the biological mother is always referred to as either ‘the mother’ or ‘Maria’, but never with the possessif ‘my mother’. This sense of repugnance towards the mother figure is vividly captured at the beginning when she hurt herself and is bleeding, yet could not call out for help as “In place of the sequence “ma” and “a” I vomited lumps of lactic acid into the water that was draining”.
“I didn’t believe that my parents would really find the courage to give me back”
For me, this sentence presents the quintessential dilemma of the novel. At first it subverts the expectation of the parents giving “away” not “back”. Since the direction of “back” underlines the sense of return, suggests that the narrator feels indeed partially anchored already in the world of her biological parents. Yet, this contrasts with the usage of the possessif “my” when talking about her adoptive parents. Consequently, it creates a sense of her being trapped in a liminal space between two parenthoods, or more precisely two motherhoods, like “a package…[being moved] here and there”. So lost in fact that the narrator looses sense of space. As Barbara Halla points out in her review, it results in the constant comparison between motherhood and geographical location: “I really don’t know what place a mother is…A desolated landscape”. It is only through her bond with her sister that she finds a stable space.
This then leads to another point: why are parenthood and the sense of home being tied so much to the mothers? In the story, the fathers are there, yet the narrator never directs as much anger towards their failure to be there for her than towards the mothers, even though most of the ‘failures’ from the mothers are direct results of patriarchal system. It reminds me a lot of Duong Thu Huong’s Paradise of the Blind, where bitter sentiments are directed towards female figures, while the ever-present yet invisible patriarchy is left without scrutiny.
"One step and I stopped, confused. The house no longer belonged to me. I was a guest."
In this translation, the language of the narrative feels like a blend of matter-of-fact-ness and acceptance, yet layered with vulnerability and repulsion. Especially at the beginning, the characters' introductions, or sign-postings are very jarring. It takes a few sentences for me realise of whom our narrator is talking about. This could reflect the narrator’s disorientation to some extent, as her thoughts jump as she tries to make sense of the past. Blurring the line between adulthood and childhood, this narrative voice also brings up the topic of childhood privilege - as in how childhood and innocence have become so precarious in this day and age that only certainty few are allowed to taste the experience. This is also not helped that the narrator's voice is of her adult self reflecting back.
Having read Barbara Hala’s review, I also now understand why Goldstein’s translation was remarked to be "not quite exact" in a review in World Literature Today. This could be because Goldstein has omitted the aspect of the dialect, apparently present in the Italian version. However, as someone who can't read the Italian version, I can't add much to the conversation other than that Goldstein's rendition still delivers a beautiful story, with exquisite prosody. But, I would encourage you guys to read these two reviews after reading this novel - and let me know what you think!
World Literature Today's review: https://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/2019/autumn/girl-returned-donatella-di-pietrantonio
Barbara Halla's review: https://readingintranslation.com/2019/08/19/the-mother-of-all-questions-donatella-di-pietrantonios-a-girl-returned-translated-from-italian-by-ann-goldstein/
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