Enchantments [Hardcover]

Linda Ferri, Enchantments (Knopf, 2005)

Enchantments is a very small, quite lovely little novel that doesn't really seem to be about much of anything until you get to the very end. Thus, it's impossible to tell you what the book is about without ruining it in some way. Just trust me, it really is about something. Kind of.

Enchantments is an impressionist treat, twenty-five small still-lifes that together give us the coming of age of a privileged Italian girl. The girl herself is not all that likeable, when it comes right down to it; she's self-absorbed, mean, and uncommunicative in the extreme. But we're not here to admire the would-be heroine, we're here to admire the scenery. And what scenery it is.

Ferri paints her scenes here with all the subtlety of the truly observant (which is what really gives this away as fiction, not memoir; the narrator couldn't possibly be observant enough to pick up all the lush detail to be found here) and all the mastery of the fictional painter who did a portrait for some guy named Dorian Gray. Everything is ripe, except for those parts that look as if they've already gone over the edge and slipped into decay. There are never enough decayed bits to overwhelm the painting; the flies haven't started buzzing yet, but you can always feel them quivering under the skin of whatever fruit you imagine when you think of the term "still life." It's the interplay between beauty and decay that truly charms the reader here, and charming it is. It's small, readable, and, well, enchanting. *** 

Take a story written as a memoir and make it from the view of a nameless eight-year-old child. Now make the author Italian, so now her book has to be translated, by a man none the less. Go on to make the young girl spoiled rotten and ego centered. How, oh how can such a book hold anybody's interest? Well, if the writing is superb, the translation true, the story touching and interesting as all get out, one just might pull it off.

Yes, at times we don't like our little girl narrator, but she holds our interests, that's for sure. She is the daughter of a wealthy and privileged Italian family, who live most of the year in Paris, spending summers at their Italian villa. She has two older brothers who taunt her and a younger sister who adores her. She takes and fails at ballet lessons, she behaves as if she is better than the French children. When she causally mentions to her father that she'd like a horse, he buys her several. She blithly leaves her sister crying in class when she is moved up a grade without caring about the younger girl's fear or feelings. Life revolves around our little memoir writer and she carries on as if that is the true and correct way of the world.

However, Ms. Ferri gradually draws us into our little writer's life, making us care more than we'd ever thought possible. This girl has feelings herself, hopes and fears too, and by the time you finish this short little book, I can promise that you'll have had a laugh or two, shed a tear or two, maybe more, because the ending is tragic and is truly touching. And as a side benefit you'll learn a bit about Paris in the sixties as you page through this tender novel and I'll just bet, that like me, you'll wish it had been a little longer.

Enchantments, originally published in Italy (1997) under the title Incantesimi, is Linda Ferri's debut novel. Told in a series of 25 short vignettes, it is narrated by an unnamed Italian girl in the style of a memoir, from the toddler to early teen years. The narrator and her family move from Italy to Paris during the opening scene of this small novel. What follows is an intimate tale of a family whose dynamics are illuminated through summers in Italy, a visit to America and winters in Paris.

Making a cohesive whole out of such a small book is a challenge for any author, but to carry it out in a debut novel and have it result in such a strong voice is a trademark of a gifted new author. Everything about this book is intimate, from the size of the book (measuring only 7.4" x 4.7") to the length of each vignette to the fact that the narrator is never named, although the reader learns the names of all her family members.

Ferri captures the dreamy sense of wonder that permeates a child's life. She uses language to tantalize the reader, drawing one into the world she has created. "...so the fear dissolved, reduced to a bit of a mystery I carried in my pocket when I made a foray up to the attic or down to the cellar." Alone the words don't have much meaning, but the feeling they evoke is of being privy to a private world and language, one inhabited by a creative child who enjoys making words dance and play.

The distinct chapter titles also add to the dream-like state engendered by this novella. Titles such as "the castrator," "perfidy" or "dame dame" add to the mystery, impelling the reader to journey with Ferri just a little longer until, suddenly, the narration ends and the reader is shaken rudely awake.

Woven throughout the vignettes is the narrator's dynamic relationship with her father. She loves him, fears him, is embarrassed by him, and even though she is fond of him, she "would like him better if he were a woman." Here too, in describing these moments of tension, Ferri's masterful use of language is present. "...and I know the chain has snapped: he's not barking anymore, he's ready to bite." Seen through the eyes of a child, this novel provides masterful insight into a marriage created by two volatile personalities.

Originally published in Italian, Linda Ferri did her own translation for the French edition. For this English edition she called upon John Casey, one of the pupils she tutored in Italian. Casey (whose first translation was Alessandro Boffa's You're such an Animal Viskovitz! - Knopf, 2002) is a gifted translator - he has maintained Ferri's distinctive voice and playfulness of language yet provided a work that flows as gracefully as if it was written in English.

In her other life, Ferri writes screenplays and this has definitely influenced her stylistically. Her use of language in Enchantments has a cinegraphic quality, painting pictures in the mind of the long, hot summer days of childhood when the worst that could happen was stubbing a toe.

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