What to say first about this Italian lampoon of writers' awards, a satire of The Prize for which three writers, The Beginner, The Writer and The Master are all nominated and are all working their way through the various avenues of the publishing world. Well, the first thing I would say is that I am pleased it has now been translated into English, giving me the opportunity to read and enjoy it. There are moments that are laugh out loud funny, moments that are touching, moments that I wanted the writer (not The Writer) to erase and do over. But that's what satire is. It challenges.

There are little gems like the following line inserted into The Writer's brain when thinking of his admirers.

For some unknown but human reason, recognizing themselves in a character in a novel made it possible for them to recognize themselves as individuals in the real world. It was like a literary Eucharist that signified their rebirth, their transition to a new life. (loc 325)

And this thought from The Beginner:

Before closing the door, attracted by the moist emptiness, he would stand there for seconds on end listening to the hypnotic hum of the refrigerant in the coils of the machine. This--he was almost convinced
--must be the closest thing to the noise of an intelligence at work. If there had ever been such a thing as the sound of writing, an inner, metaphysical sound, it absolutely had to be just like the sound of his refrigerator, so different from the vulgar pounding of a keyboard. (loc 459)

And lastly, from The Master:

"Life is merely passing time and the desire to be loved. Nothing else."
Life, life, life...How unbearable they were, these writers always talking about life. What do they even know of life? Have they ever lived? Poets, yes, they know about it. Other writers only imagine it. Scoundrels who climb naked onto a ledge and threaten to throw themselves off if nobody will listen to them, that's what writers are. If it wasn't for poets, who question every certainty in order to climb higher, and who extend to them the support of poetry in order to get them down like firemen with a scared cat... Life, yes, but other people's thought The Master. (loc 969)

Well now you have a glimpse into the brains and minds of the protagonists, those who hope for the ultimate Prize. And also I hope you have an idea of the writing that is here for your reading pleasure. I did, indeed, find it a pleasure. A few minor quibbles with the way the set up of the avian introduction and coda were presented perhaps, but otherwise, I definitely recommend this to my literary-minded friends.

An ecopy of this book was provided by the publisher through NetGalley in return for an honest review.

It seems that the literature prize and the whole system around it is the topic of the year. First St. Aubyn's "Lost for Words", then his one. Compared to "Lost for Words" I actually enjoyed "The Parrots". The satire of both writers and the prize is biting, but also rather stylish. It reminded me of Sorrentino's great film "La grande bellezza" from the last year.

The style, the language, the characters and the story melded beautifully in this novel to make it both interesting and a little off- beat.

Setting the dramatic action around the finalists for a literary prize was fun for me as a reader who retains a certain ambivalence for "prize winning" novels. The base nature of the principal characters added to novel's interest for me and I found myself REALLY caring about the outcome of the competition and the three finalists's approach to their work and their legacy.

Although the English edition of this book was translated from Italian, it he language felt natural and "right." The Parrot was one of the most interesting books I've read this year and I found it both thought provoking and entertaining.

Note: I will include a review of this book on goodreads.

The Beginner, The Writer and The Master compete for a prestigious book award. To win the award they have to ensure enough votes for their books. All three desperately wants the accolades and will do anything required to gather enough support. Even if it meant that “If you’re not capable of creating a work of art, you have to become a work of art.”

They soon will discover that self-indulgence can only be successful if the social architecture of their environment allows them to succeed. Death, illness, women, workers and pets become Dionysiac metaphors for their personal ambitions and soon prove to be the factors they should have considered important enough, in the first place, in their quest for fame and fortune.

One of them demanded to win, one expected to win and one hoped to win. Not that all three of them acted out of free will. On the other hand, some temptations simply had to be yielded to, with unimaginable consequences. The morphology of the book industry is such that their choices of agents, publishers and editors played a major role in the sinister outcome of the event. All three formed part of formidable teams, either acting as instigator or victim in their own plots.

Whatever they envisioned for their destiny made them aware that the hardest part of any life, even a glamorous one, is to find one's feet and stay standing. Some of them won't find their feet in their quest to seek self-justice. One of the contestants had to address a complex dilemma for which there was no easy solution, only a dramatic outcome. The surprising twist in the end almost make this book a thriller. Almost, but not quite!

All three of them established some fundamental truths to feed their egos, such as: ..." suffering is a leper who walks with bells on his feet..."

"Life is too short to be devoted to suffering, people who suffer want to suffer, suffering is an invention of man: above the clouds the sun is always shining".

"The day of his divorce? A liberation. His father’s death? The deposition of a weary king. The end of a friendship? Social cleansing.

Everything that happens can become an opportunity. In all these years, The Writer has been the personal gardener of his own success. He has carefully mowed, watered and fenced off the evergreen lawn of his well-being. And now? Now he won’t allow anyone to get close, and fires off a volley if he so much as sees anyone lurking around the fence of his life. The obvious threat comes from outside, because inside his garden there is nothing and nobody that can harm him, he can run free without fear of tripping up: there are no obstacles or rusty tools in his garden."

Pathos, empathy, a little whiff of love, and even compassion define the authentic narrative playing itself out in a modern Rome. A tinge of surrealism creeps into the tale with the black parrot becoming some sort of unwanted, as well as feared totem.

The narrative skill used in the book, makes it an informative, often poetic, as well as entertaining read. Numerous phrases caught my imagination, such as: " His thoughts were watered by wine, fermented by the first sunshine of spring. "(paraphrased)

and

"When we are old we may say wise things, but when we are young we say true things."

A thoroughly enjoyable read.

"The Parrots " was provided by Pushkin Press through Netgalley for review. Thank you for the opportunity. I also bought the book, and I am happy with that. There will be quite a few people whom I know, would love to read it. I cannot wait to share it!

A Financial Times and Evening Standard Book of the Year 2014.

What an entertaining read about prizes in the literary world! Such a great book!