Still from Ricky Tognazzi's 2011 film based on this Giancarlo De Cataldo novel
For three long years, Diego Marini has been holding his agony and grief to himself. Then one day at the institute where his severely handicapped son receives therapy, he meets another father with a similar son and Diego is finally able to open up and share his feelings.
The other man is a foreigner, probably Middle Eastern or so Diego reckons, and his name is Walid. Sitting on the bench next to Diego, this dark featured gent nods his head and says with a tone of both pride and sadness, "That's my son, Yusuf."
A bond is formed.
Diego has been bringing his son Giacomo to therapy every Saturday, his free day. Ever since he first met Walid, he now looks forward to his trips to the institute. On their third meeting, Walid suggests they walk over to a café and use the familiar "tu."
Once seated, the two men share reflections on life and fate. A healthy teenage girl walks by in a miniskirt with her prominent breasts bouncing joyfully. Diego and Walid exchange a nod of appreciation. As they return to pick up their sons, Walid tells his new friend they have to think in a different way, otherwise, their grief will kill them. He goes on to suggest Diego blow on Giacomo's face - if his son smiles, that means he's loved enough.
At this point in their relationship, there are few things Walid doesn't know about every dimension of Diego, however Diego knows precious little about Walid's personal life - what he does, where he came from, even his surname - but that matters little. What's important for Diego is never in his forty-three years has he ever felt so in tune with another human being, not even his wife.
Over the course of the next months, Walid invites Diego to join him, first at the city's outdoor Arab market (quite the unique experience for an Italian right in the middle of Rome) and then at a Turkish bath where Diego has an extraordinarily intense evening - not only with all the steam, water and massage but other men telling him Walid's friendship is something serious. Joining Walid and his friends in their hookah smoke, Diego feels deep down "between these men there was a bond so strong and enduring it could be identified with their very lives. He wished ardently to share it, and wondered what he could do to be admitted among them."
Shortly thereafter, the unexpected: on the Saturday following Christmas holiday, when Diego takes Giacomo for therapy, he's informed Yusuf has been withdrawn from the institute. Diego attempts to find out the reason why but his efforts go for naught. Now that Walid has vanished, over the course of the next months, Diego comprehends just how indispensable his sharing a common suffering with his friend, so much so that every hour of every day has become an ordeal. Never before has Diego felt such an all encompassing sadness and despair.
But then it happens: on May 14th, Zaira comes to his office, a tall, slim, stunning Middle Eastern woman Diego met once previously, having been introduced to her by Walid who said Zaira was his oldest friend.
Diego suggests they leave the office and go to the Piazza Navon. Once out among the crowd of tourists, Zaira informs him Walid is in danger and needs his help. Diego is overjoyed such a lowly person as himself is in a position to help the very man he esteems so highly but all he can voice is: "Why me?" Zaira answers emphatically, "Why you? Because you're friends!" She goes on to provide instructions, that is, to meet Walid that very night at 10:30 at an abandoned quarry at a specific address. Before departing, Zaira exclaims: "Swear you'll go!"
Diego arrives at the quarry at exactly 10:30 and waits until past midnight. No Walid. He drives home.
The next afternoon during his lunchtime walk, Diego is shoved into a car by two beefy men in blue suits and driven out to meet with their chief, a Major Santini of the Italian Secret Services, who hands him a photo of Walid and asks: "Do you know this man?"
The Major's question is posed at exactly the book's halfway mark. From this point forward, The Father and the Foreigner takes a decidedly more political turn. We watch Diego at every step in an atmosphere charged with suspense, where each decision he makes can mean life or death.
What, if anything, should he do to help his friend? Does allegiance to one's country outweigh any emotional bond, even if that bond is at the level Diego and Walid share with their two sons, Giacomo and Yusuf? After all, Zaira told him that time when he first met her: "Walid says children like Yusuf need two fathers, because one isn't enough for someone so defenseless. He is your friend, and he is also the father of your son. And you are his friend and you are also the father of Yusuf."
This slim Giancarlo De Cataldo novel can be read in a day. It would be hard to imagine a more finely written tale that's both a thriller and a case study of a father and friend's emotions under pressure. Thanks to Europa Editions for making this work available to English readers and thanks also to Ann Goldstein for her fluid, smooth translation.
Italian author Giancarlo De Cataldo, born 1956
"Diego had never been able to think in terms that transcended the sphere of the everyday, but that winter he often felt that he was a sort of model of the general wretchedness, the victim of a conspiracy plotted by a bizarre demon to the detriment of humankind." - Giancarlo De Cataldo, The Father and the Foreigner
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