“I’m
Bravo. And I don’t have a dick.”
I was pretty much pre-disposed to enjoy
Giorgio Faletti’s The Pimp (A Pimp’s Notes in America) as soon as I
read the opening line and I’m glad to say that my pre-disposition was borne out
by what followed.
Giorgio Faletti is a well-known Italian
comedian and actor who has also written seven novels, of which four have been
translated into English. The Pimp, the most recent of these four,
is set in Milan in the late 1970s, at the same time as the kidnapping of the former
Italian Prime Minister, Aldo Moro, the period when Faletti was a regular at the
Derby, a leading Milan cabaret.
The titular character, Bravo, is indeed a
man who makes his living from procuring women for his clients. He took up his less than salubrious
profession after his own manhood was sliced off with a razor by the minions of
a Mafia boss whose girlfriend Bravo had foolishly slept with. His life is relatively straightforward, if
sleazy and soul-deadening, until a party for which he has supplied the female
company is targeted by assassins who murder all those present. From that moment, Bravo finds himself at the
centre of a complex plot that results in him being hunted by the Red Brigades,
the police and the Mafia.
The story is told from Bravo’s perspective
and in a kind of Euro-Chandleresque voice, combining noir with a penchant for
world-weary semi-philosophising, all of which works well unless you pause a
moment too long to ponder the meaning of some of his sayings. Fortunately, the plot is engaging,
satisfyingly complex and carries the reader forward.
Having said that the plot is complex, it is
important to point out that this does not mean convoluted; Faletti creates a
spider’s web of seemingly unconnected facts and happenings and manages to weave
them together in a way that both maintains the suspense whilst being very clear
in its workings. There isn’t a moment
where you feel confused as to what’s happening but, equally, the pay-off of the
denouement is worth it. Faletti’s other
real knack is of planting small and seemingly unimportant nuggets in the
narrative that end up becoming surprisingly significant, often in unexpected
ways, which adds an extra layer to the enjoyability of The Pimp.
The ending of The Pimp has a little too much neat coincidence for my personal
taste but there is much to admire in this book, including a surprisingly emotional
and reflective undercurrent in Bravo’s character. Ultimately, The Pimp is a superior thriller,
blending a noir feel and a demi-monde setting with Italian politics.
I’d like to thank Constable & Robinson
(whose crime list is absolutely first-rate) for sending me a copy of The Pimp for review.
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