"How could you just inappropriate for children this perfect society, we have asked you so nicely packaged yet available? There must have crept in somewhere a mistake, you were not envisaged at all. Neurotic, nervous, psychopathic, violent and sick with an exaggerated need for recognition? Certainly. How should we be? It is true, everything fits together. We are what you allow us to be. We take what it concedes to us. The fragments of happiness. The negation of everything can be reached by the joy of raising the fence from its hinges to illegally obtain all that we deserve by nature. "
Domenico Mungo: Sensomutanti.
On the one hand, and first of all, it is an exciting novel, intelligent, stylistically advanced, literate, and grounded. The two protagonists, the Fiorentina Ultras, are on a trip to an away game in Bergamo. The characters are fictional, the events do not necessarily run the same way. On the other hand, the protagonists come from quite the reality, as are the scenes that people involved in contemporary history, the groups, teams, players, bands, or the cited author. A novel that remains intertwined with reality, because undoubtedly shimmy along their own experiences, reflections and philosophies on modern Italian history of events. Fictitious, but realistic episodes, such as the double police murder of a highway toll booth from Bergamo or taxi-murder of a prostitute in Turin are memorials of the recent Italian history sideways: the fatal shots to Carlo Giuliani (whom the book is i.Ü. dedicated , the events in Genoa take a wide area) during the G8 summit in Genoa or the arson attack on a train from Bologna fans through the "Alcohol campuses." In addition, a myriad of episodes from the lives of the curve, the anarchists, the ravers, from drug-heated days and nights in the freezing rain of a stadium curve, prostitutes, porn actresses and again police officers.
Mungo defines "Sensomutanti" as "surreal journey of two fans of Fiorentina to ride away to Bergamo" and in a very figurative sense, it probably is. Mungo, for many years in the first row of Florence "Curva Fiesole," and known head of the "Collective Autonomo Viola" tells of a trip. And as if the endless sadness of the Po Valley in the train passes through, passing through the rainy window looks wander, from the thoughts and rotate around the target, or at the beginning, make friends and enemies, which is expected or left behind on the platform. And so haunted by the individual stages of the novel again and again recaps, reflections, recollections and eyewitness accounts. Teams, players, friends, bands, writers, philosophers. Ultras.
"We conquered Rimini on a Monday night in late February, throwing paper bombs and flares on the Carabinieri in our sector. We drove with 3,000 to Imola, where Christian lost by a murderous tear gas grenade that exploded on a man's height an eye. "
But always Mungo told from the edge of society, from the position of the excluded, marginalized. Because nothing describes a social system as accurate as the detection of what it excludes and denies. More than once Mungo Ultras defined as trash, garbage from the useless slag heap of society. But what if these marginalized - sons and daughters of society - not only have a voice, which is to hear it, but all the defense, which means our code of values actually, but in reality suppressed fought and extinguished with batons and tear gas grenades? What if ultras, anarchists, Black Bloc, punks, skins, junkies and other maladjusted in the best of Hegelian dialectics are just part despite everything - even as the other side of the coin? And what, O graus if they hold "People of the Night," the brave citizens of a reality that this croak does not want to admit it killed itself? What if you are in a brushed antagonism on State Resistance lives just once?
"Maybe all this does not hurt. Maybe that makes it just too slow, a bit of everything by being immersed in a chloroform-soaked cotton ball, the anesthetized burning our scars. Just as the cocaine numb mouth and nose against the incurable wounds of normality makes the limbs allowed to mutate and to penetrate each other, by suppressing the pain and erases the memory. "
Mungo speaks with the vocabulary and the consciousness of a life outside the comfortable norms of mainstream society. He tells of those who remain as residual waste our high-tech, sterile reality. The exploit is not about reading croak. Want to. Despite everything that prefer the real pain of the baton of the pseudo-satisfaction of the shopping paradise. The rather be with their friends in any stadium verranzten curve are, as at Christmas to simulate the "Festival of the family." Rather than real pain real frustration. Mungo is a word which might otherwise have no voice to tell and listen to those who do not want nobody wants. A society outside of society, the marginalized jailed clubbed, shot down one. Viewed from the couch, of course. For if the book conveys anything, it seems that under these lepers lives on a human set of values, which has the post-modern industrial capitalism in a constructed reality for a long time. In this respect, mongooses protagonist radically to the death. In place of "simulated life" begins the author, say it quietly, archaic and tribal value system: instead of a wrong perceived society satisfies the basic human needs with simulations, is Mungo, the coordinates of his tribe: loyalty, honor, freedom, self-empowerment, truth. And if this comes at the expense of the majority society, then all the better.
"Bah, at least WE have lived. Even now, when the rain flows over my face. Themselves are now fragmented and paralyzed legs twisted in an unnatural and obscene manner. Even now, with squashed on the pavement back, rather die than to live forever at the mercy of other dependent. Just as Antonello, as Licari ... "
A world that defines its own social relevance by the number of friends in the Facebook profile is, Mungo the cohesion of their own people, "my brothers" whom the only ones that can save really takes your ass if you surrounded from truncheons sees and everyone else is already fled. A world which is exchanged banalities billion times a day via SMS sets, Mungo the clean punch to the face shape as opposed unmediated and direct communication. A society can assimilate all that submits to their replies, with a consistent refusal Mungo - double standards is not allowed if I reject the prevailing morality, then I create a new me. At the price, as immoral to stand. "Beyond Good and Evil," he read, the mongoose. And what's even better: he has understood Nietzsche. A world where the media brands but any kind of violence, the fact, however, violence at every level for meaningful principle raised is, it will simply receive the Mirror: " I am what you would have me "is a chapter. A post-industrial society, which promises to anyone who does not question it, peace and material security. At the expense of genuine passion, at the expense of freedom, at the expense of everything Mungo believes "human". Although he would never say this course so. A society that produces Auschwitz and Hiroshima as well as Ultras. Also say if the course so no one would.
"This is the sound of Turin, which no longer exists. This is the sound of Turin, which goes under the flood of cement and steel bars, factories, parks, trees and rivers in mega-shopping paradise and multi-hall cinemas transform performed hollywoodianischer Multi shit for the thousands of brain amputees on Saturday evening and the families, the peace and the happiness of the Christian Christmas celebration are looking for. This is the sound of a worker, the man is. And no human resource. "
The whole thing is just how hard to digest as well, if you can get involved with the book, it hits like a punch in the stomach. Other findings obtained if the first impression has subsided. The language is extremely politically incorrect, at least narratively and stylistically schizophrenic loosely ordered but it still works out of the booth space on 2 of my hit list "of books that changed my life" made it. But it's not even the authors to explain or justify his anti-heroes are heroes in every sense imaginable: brutal, ruthless maladjusted, dirty, drug-addicted, anti-radical. And proud of it. The curve is (or rather was) a place of freedom for Mungo. A place that do not apply where the rules and laws of a sick society. But it certainly is in the rules and laws and hierarchies. But just self-imposed. The Comprehensive mentality that the individual is probably safety is considered by Mungo potentially (or rather, very real) exposed as a fascist by material security only to the promises, who gives his own moral compass, his passions, and especially his freedom at the door . For everything else there's batons and CS grenades.
"In the meantime, exploded to all our delight any joker in Viola the padlock of the supply room, the gardener from Brumana:! I saw with my own eyes, people with power saws, drills, shovels and rakes, buckets and hoes, wooden ladders, chickens, chairs and rubber boots and fists in the end came even someone with a bike! With all the stuff we drove us around in the stands. In the meantime, the purple people arrived in droves, the curve was holed up to two thirds of Viola, a chain of Carabinieri and the people of Bergamo in a corner. At the other cornering peasant spat the venom foamed with rage and revenge, but they could not do anything! They sang and later they fitted us up at the station, but in the meantime we did what we had just fixed in their homes. "
One must not follow Mungo in his insights. One can hold against him on the sofa and everything. In any case, you learn a lot about our brave new world, no matter which side you choose, Soma or none. And you learn a lot about life in the real and true sense. alcohol and adrenaline . And a lot of testosterone. Horny book.
There is a small excerpt to read it for yourself.
