Ashes to ashes
A dramatic gem crafted in the way only Italians can (plus a bonus rec)

by Jeffrey Mannix

Why is it that the earliest and best noir crime fiction comes from France and Italy? Arguable, I know, but such a high percentage of European literary crime fiction comes to the U.S. that translators have been famously valued. There are even award-giving guilds that pay tribute to the translation industry’s luminaries. 

“Daughter of Ashes,” written by Ilaria Tuti, from Gemona del Friuli, Italy, is translated by the very accomplished Ekin Oklap, who was born in Turkey, grew up in Italy and translates both languages into English. Oklap has been shortlisted for the prestigious International Booker Prize for exceptional translation, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if her meticulous and challenging translation of “Daughter of Ashes” secures extra attention.

“Daughter of Ashes” could be labeled a police procedural for those who need to categorize, but for Italians especially, police and procedure have relaxed and even contradictory meanings. In “Daughter of Ashes,” we’re riding along with Teresa Battaglia, a ranking superintendent who has served in Rome’s laddish and hierarchical police force for 27 years. 

She is, in every other chapter, a warrior female than a worse-for-wear geriatric superintendent handling Rome’s criminal element and a misogynous police force. In the “today” chapters, she’s an irascible crone after nearly three decades of outthinking the boozy hierarchy and earning authority by finding clues the suits never had time to consider. And in the “27 years ago” chapters, she is a preternatural sleuth who leads detective dandies in solving crimes while they continue to vilify women detectives.   

Now about the book and what makes it so different and worth reading: Teresa Battaglia is slipping steadily into dementia, likely Alzheimer’s. On the brink of giving in to her nagging, humiliating fate and retiring, she is summoned by virtuoso serial killer Giacomo Mainardi from prison. The cleverest of villains whom she knows all too well, she tracked him down wit for wit and sent him to prison 27 years ago, creating an unrealized, unavoidable bond.

The chapters alternate between 27 years ago and the murders and modern day with such fluidity that we’re drawn into a web of intrigue. We can’t wait to learn what took place then and how it pertains to now. 

We feel that Giacomo is content in prison perhaps because he wants his wicked desires to be constrained as he ages. Or perhaps he’s quite capable of leaving any time he gets the itch to create his artistic butchery. But Giacomo has summoned Teresa, and she obeys, because she knows this man better than she may even know herself. And now, as she’s losing traction and needing a walker to rest on halfway down the hallway, Teresa is despairing of losing her skills, her job and, too soon, her life.

It’s almost as if Leonard Bernstein had composed the score for this drama. Giacomo tells Teresa that someone wants to kill him, because he knows who contracted for the murder of Teresa’s abusive ex-husband, Sebastino. He was jettisoned some years ago after he put Teresa in critical care with permanent disabilities. Did Giacomo kill to revenge the only woman he has ever respected and may secretly love? Is prison porous enough for Giacomo to slip out and back? Certainly he’s capable of the ritualistic killing of Sebastino, especially after treating his Teresa so poorly.

“Daughter of Ashes” is a gem of a book, a master lesson in fiction writing. Don’t miss Ilaria Tuti’s drama; you’ll be worse off if you skip this one.

Before you go to Maria’s Bookshop for your 15% Murder Ink discount on this hardcover, I have to timidly sneak in another recommendation. This one is by one of Italy’s most critically acclaimed contemporary novelists, Nicola Lagioia, with translation by the highly esteemed Ann Goldstein and published Europa Editions. “The City of the Living” should be on Maria’s prestige table – or maybe it is too salacious or voyeuristic to put out with ordinary books. Do order it if it’s not stocked. The book is saved from tabloid fodder by a skilled treatment of a real crime. Fictionalized to spare the grimness, it follows a coterie of Roman twenty-somethings who, after months of heavy partying and depravity, kill 22-year-old Luca Varani in a drug and alcohol delirium and confess as if it were the fault of the drugs.

This is a true story explored by a literary fiction writer, and if the public isn’t too parochial, “The City of the Living” will keep you up way past bedtime and should be read anytime you have a minute. I won’t sell it any further, but to say “The City of the Living” is a special book for a sophisticated reader. ?