ANALECTA ROMANAINSTITUTI DANICI

XXXV/XXXVI

ANALECTA ROMANA

INSTITUTI DANICI

XXXV/XXVI

2010/11

ROMAE MMX-MMXI

ANALECTA ROMANA INSTITUTI DANICI XXXV-XXXVI© 2011 Accademia di DanimarcaISSN 2035-2506

Published with the support of a grant from:Det Frie Forskningsråd / Kultur og Kommunikation

Scientific Board

Ove Hornby (Bestyrelsesformand, Det Danske Institut i Rom)Jesper Carlsen (Syddansk Universitet)

Astrid Elbek (Det Jyske Musikkonservatorium)Karsten Friis-Jensen (Københavns Universitet)

Helge Gamrath (Aalborg Universitet)Maria Fabricius Hansen (Ny Carlsbergfondet)

Michael Herslund (Copenhagen Business School)Hannemarie Ragn Jensen (Københavns Universitet)

Kurt Villads Jensen (Syddansk Universitet)Mogens Nykjær (Aarhus Universitet)

Gunnar Ortmann (Det Danske Ambassade i Rom)Bodil Bundgaard Rasmussen (Nationalmuseet, København)

Birger Riis-Jørgensen (Det Danske Ambassade i Rom)Lene Schøsler (Københavns Universitet)Poul Schülein (Arkitema, København)

Anne Sejten (Roskilde Universitet)

editorial Board

Marianne Pade (Chair of Editorial Board, Det Danske Institut i Rom)

Erik Bach (Det Danske Institut i Rom)Patrick Kragelund (Danmarks Kunstbibliotek)

Gitte Lønstrup Dal Santo (Det Danske Institut i Rom)Gert Sørensen (Københavns Universitet)Birgit Tang (Det Danske Institut i Rom)

Maria Adelaide Zocchi (Det Danske Institut i Rom)

Analecta Romana Instituti Danici. — Vol. I (1960) — . Copenhagen: Munksgaard. From 1985: Rome, «L’ERMA» di Bretschneider. From 2007 (online): Accademia di Danimarca

ANALECTA ROMANA INSTITUTI DANICI encourages scholarly contributions within the Academy’s research fields. All contributions will be peer reviewed. Manuscripts to be considered for publication should be sent to: accademia@acdan.it. Authors are requested to consult the journal’s guidelines at www.acdan.it.

Contents

Stine BirkThird-Century Sarcophagi from the City of Rome: A Chronological Reappraisal 7

UrSUla lehmann-BrockhaUSAsger Jorn: Il grande rilievo nell’Aarhus Statgymnasium 31

mette midtgård madSen: Sonne’s Frieze versus Salto’s Reconstruction. Ethical and Practical Reflections on a New Reconstruction of the Frieze on Thorvaldsens Museum 61

erik hanSen, Jørgen nielSen, JeSper aSSerBo e tonny JeSperSen:Due cupole a Villa Adriana. Calcoli statici 83

Jørgen nielSen a/S, tonny JeSperSen, JeSper aSSerBo: Investigazioni statiche sull’edificio romano della “Piazza d’Oro” a Villa Adriana 101

peter dyrBy: Genre and Intertextuality as a Dialogical Narrative Strategy for the Migrant Writer 119

Genre and Intertextuality as a Dialogical Narrative Strategy for the Migrant Writer

by Peter Dyrby

Abstract. The present article contains an analysis of Amara Lakhous’ novel Scontro di civiltà per un ascensore a piazza Vittorio (2006) based on the notion of genre and intertextuality as a means of creating a dialogical third space for the migrant writer and the reader. By way of introduction, the terminological issues that currently dominate much of the debate on migration literature are discussed, followed by an analysis of Lakhous’ intertextual narrative strategy. The analysis is based on Homi K. Bhabha’s theory of a third space and on the concepts of interculturality and transculturality. This third space approach is used to demonstrate that Lakhous creates an intertextual universe for the dual purpose of entering into an intercultural dialogue with the reader and conducting a transcultural dialogue with himself as a migrant writer. These dialogues are closely linked with the novel’s dominant theme of identity, which comprises three elements: identity, truth and memory. In relation to the identity theme, the present article focuses on identity dissolution versus hybrid identities rather than on split identities. These identity issues are discussed in conjunction with an examination of the intertexts that are used in the novel. The links between the principal intertext, Carlo Emilio Gadda’s Quer pasticciaccio brutto de via Merulana (1957), and Lakhous’ novel are dealt with in depth, and a number of other intertextual and sociocultural references are included in the discussion of Lakhous’ search for a hybrid identity via such intercultural and transcultural dialogues in the third space that his intertextual strategy creates.

IntroductionIn this article on Italian migration literature, I will discuss the use of genre and intertextuality in the Algerian writer Amara Lakhous’ crime comedy Scontro di civiltà per un ascensore a piazza Vittorio (2006).1 My central argument is that genre and intertextuality represent potential dialogical tools for the migrant writer. In my analysis, I will examine whether Lakhous’ intertextual approach can, in fact, be seen as part of a deliberate strategy aimed at creating a space that serves a dual function as a transcultural space, in which Lakhous can express his own hybrid identity as a migrant writer in Italy, and as an intercultural space in which different cultures can enter into a dialogue with each other. Rather than seeing this intertextual strategy as an act of submission to the host culture, as some postcolonial critics would probably argue, or as an act of subversion of the new culture, as others might claim,2 I intend to argue

that the abundant intertextual references in Scontro di civiltà form part of a strategy aimed at creating what I will define as a dialogical third space. I base my idea of such a space on the postcolonial cultural theoretician Homi K. Bhabha’s ‘third space’ concept, which he primarily uses to discuss cultural hybridity and hybrid identities.3 Bhabha deals with culture and identity from a postcolonial angle, and I should stress that my analysis is not based on postcolonial theories or on postcolonial aspects of migration literature. Nor is the third space that I will formulate identical with Bhabha’s third space or with subsequent third space definitions such as Azade Seyhan’s ‘third geography’, which she uses as a spatial concept for diasporic and transnational writing.4 I do not intend to enter into a detailed discussion of Bhabha’s third space concept. Such a discussion falls outside the scope of this article, and Bhabha’s theory has, moreover, already been widely discussed

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elsewhere.5 I am simply borrowing the notion of a third space as a tool for an analysis of the intertextual universe that Lakhous creates in Scontro di civiltà. Bhabha’s third space is fundamentally a dialogical space. In my opinion, the close dialogue between writer and reader that intertextuality entails is also conducted in a third space, and a third space approach is therefore very suitable as a basis for an analysis of Lakhous’ use of intertextual references and his dialogical narrative strategy. In my analysis, I will link Lakhous’ search for a third space with the migrant’s search for identity, which is the principal theme of Lakhous’ novel.

Migration Literature and the Terminological DebateThe history of the relatively recent phenomenon of Italian migration literature has already been dealt with in detail elsewhere and will not be presented here.6 However, before proceeding with an analysis of Lakhous’ novel, one of the most successful novels by a migrant writer in Italy to date, it seems expedient briefly to discuss the term migration literature, as there is an ongoing debate about the appropriate definitions and terminology in this comparatively new field of research.

Migration can, very briefly, be defined as the movement of people across a given boundary either as internal migration within the borders of a given country or as external migration across the borders between countries. Migration literature can be defined in two ways: 1) Literature written by migrants in another language than their mother tongue as a result of a migration process. 2) Literature that deals with a wide range of themes concerning migration and migrants and that also comprises non-migrant authors who write in their mother tongue. Some writers fall under both categories, for example an Italian writer like Carmine Abate, who was born in an Albanian community in Calabria, and who has written a number of books that all focus on migration themes.7 Abate’s first book was a collection of short stories written in German

and based on his own experience as a migrant living in Germany.8 His subsequent novels have, however, all been written in Italian. Both the above definitions are valid, and they should be regarded as complementary in a discussion of migration literature.

There is, in fact, currently a tendency towards an increasingly wide definition of migration literature, and one may wonder whether migration literature is undergoing a process of universalisation based on the view that we are all migrants in the age of globalisation. As Mirjam Gebauer, a specialist in German migration literature, notes: “Migration literature containing experiences of displacement and cultural hybridity is increasingly perceived and presented as a universal literature of a widely-shared experience.”9

Gebauer links migration literature to a shift from national to transnational literature.10 However, in some countries, there is a tendency in the opposite direction towards a narrower definition of migration literature by preference being given to immigration literature as the overall term. This applies to recent Italian research in this field. One such example is the Italian professor Lucia Quaquarelli’s introduction to Certi confini (2010), a collection of essays on Italian immigration literature. Quaquarelli argues precisely in favour of the use of “letteratura italiana dell’immigrazione” instead of “letteratura italiana della migrazione”.11 Her main argument for adopting this term is that she wishes to stress the internal nature, “la natura interna”,12 of this literature in order to highlight that one of the distinctive features of Italian (im)migration literature “è quello di nascere in seno alla cosiddetta letteratura nazionale, di esserne un movimento di innovazione e di trasformazione anche ‘geograficamente’ interno.”13

It is certainly true that (im)migration literature, written by (im)migrants in another language than their own, represents a challenge, from the inside, to the national literary canon and the national philological

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tradition. They subvert the boundaries of the national (in this case Italian) literature, they provide alternative cultural perspectives and they add new idioms and cultural references to the national language. As a term, immigration literature is more or less identical with the first of the above two definitions of migration literature: literature written by (im)migrants in another language than their mother tongue as a result of a(n) (im)migration process. The term immigration literature thus excludes Italians writers who have migrated abroad, and this is precisely one of Quaquarelli’s reasons for using the term. Italian writers who live abroad also fall outside the first of the above two definitions of migration literature, as they tend to write in their mother tongue. However, in a discussion of the way in which migrant writers influence the national literary canon and language, it could be argued that Italian migrant writers who reside abroad and write in their own language also contribute to challenging the Italian national literature through a different perspective and through language innovation as a result of the influence of their host country’s language on their own language.14 Using immigration literature as a term in order to focus on the internal aspects of this literature vis-à-vis the host country in question is not a problem per se. It is, however, worth bearing in mind that it is a more exclusionary term than migration literature, and it may also entail a risk of too much emphasis being placed on the immigration process and the immigrant experience, thus locking the writer into the position of an immigrant. Migration and migrant seem less loaded terms in this respect.

The question of terminology is conse-quently a central factor in the debate on mi-gration literature as a field of research. Until the recent emergence of second-generation migrant writers in Italy, Italian migration lit-erature has principally been written by first-generation immigrants in a language that most of them did not master before arriving in Italy, and a majority of these authors only became writers as a result of their migration.

This raises interesting questions about lan-guage and power, about language ownership and about how these writers challenge the na-tional literature and the national canon. One of the early terms used about this literature – italophone literature – focused precisely on the element of language. However, the term italophone was heavily criticised, especially by postcolonial researchers, as it emphasised the native Italians’ ownership of the language.15

Many other terms have been brought into play in this field, including exile literature, diaspora literature, postmigration literature, transnational literature and multicultural literature. The difference between exile literature and migration literature is relatively clear, and it may therefore be useful briefly to compare these two terms in order to define the latter further. Exile literature is generally connected with the migration of an individual, often for political reasons, and with a temporary stay in the host country. Furthermore, exile literature is usually written by writers who were already established authors at the time of their exile, and they normally write in a language, very often their mother tongue, with which they were familiar prior to their exile. In contrast, the migrant writer is usually part of a collective wave of migration that is generally more financially than politically motivated, the migrant writer in question only becomes a writer as a result of his or her migration, and he or she generally writes in a language acquired as a direct consequence of a migration process. In addition, the migrant’s stay in the host country is often connected with a sense of permanence. To quote Stuart Hall: “Migration is a one way trip, there is no ‘home’ to go back to.”16 However, a writer like Amara Lakhous shows that even this seemingly clear-cut distinction is often problematic. Lakhous refers to his stay in Italy as an incomplete exile even though he now lives voluntarily in Rome, having moved from Algeria for political reasons in 1995. Lakhous describes his exile as incomplete to stress his continued links with his culture of origin, which he finds must be

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maintained to ensure a process of integration rather than assimilation into the host society. This is Lakhous’ main reason for writing in his mother tongue, Arabic, and then rewriting the work in question in Italian. Both languages are fundamental elements in his new identity as a migrant. Lakhous has, in fact, frequently stated that the Arabic language is the salt that ensures that the wound stays open, thus underlining the importance of not severing the ties with the culture of origin. Language is a central theme in Lakhous’ works as well as in migration literature in general, and language as a creator, and a potential destroyer, of identity will form part of the analysis below.

Many of the other terms used in the debate on migration literature are more difficult to keep apart, for example the distinction between migration and postmigration literature. The discussion of the appropriate terminology is often further muddled by the use of vague terms like Ottmar Ette’s “literature of no fixed abode”, which he uses to argue in favour of a movement towards transnational literature.17 The ongoing terminological debate shows that migration literature is in a constant state of flux as a field of research, which is precisely what makes it one of the most interesting areas in literature studies at the moment.

Another important factor in this debate is that many scholars and researchers simply find it problematical to classify the phenomenon of migration literature, as they feel that, in so doing, they place these writers in ethnic boxes and assign them to a permanent role of outsiders instead of members of a changed global topography. In a discussion of this problem, Leslie Adelson, Professor at Cornell University, quotes Yasemin Soysal’s criticism of diaspora as an example:

... it suspends immigrant experience between home and host countries, native and foreign lands, homebound desires and losses – thereby obscuring the new topography and practices of citizenship, which are multiconnected, multireferential and postnational.18

Soysal’s comments specifically concern the term ‘diaspora’, but they reflect a general reluctance towards definitions that may suspend the migrant between two positions in a sort of vacuum. There is admittedly a fair amount of political correctness involved in the debate on migration literature, but any categorisation of this phenomenon undeniably entails a risk of ethnic labels being attached to these writers, and they may end up in a marginalised position as a result hereof. On the other hand, this risk seems unavoidable in any classification of a minority group of writers. Such a classification is also closely connected with financial marketing mechanisms, as writing from a niche position affects a writer’s access to the market. However, the effect may be both positive and negative. Creating a niche position for migrant writers and marketing them as ethnic niche writers may quite simply be necessary to prevent them from being completely overlooked on the national market. In fact, the exotic aspect of Italian migrant writers is often highlighted for marketing purposes.19 In turn, this raises the question of whether the writer’s ethnic background risks becoming more important than the literary qualities of the work in question.

Postmigration Literature and Transnational LiteratureTo avoid the creation of such niches, terms like postmigration literature and transnational literature may thus seem preferable, but, terminologically, they also appear less than fully adequate at the present time. I find that postmigration literature should only be used about writers who have been born or raised in the country to which their parents migrated. In an Italian context, postmigration literature will then comprise both writers like Igiaba Scego and Cristina Ali Farah, who were born in Italy, and writers like Jadelin Mabiala Gangbo and Leila Waida, who were born in Brazzaville (in Congo) and Bombay respectively, but who have grown up in Italy.20 If postmigration literature is defined more widely as literature written by migrant writers

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(or should that then be postmigrant writers?) who no longer write primarily on the basis of their identity and experience as migrants, the term becomes less fortunate, as it seems to imply some sort of hierarchy in which writing directly from a migration experience, or from the perspective of a migrant identity, is somehow inferior to a postmigration outlook. In fact, one of the first books on migration literature, Writing across Worlds. Literature and Migration (1995), uses the term postmigration precisely to denote the upper end of a hierarchical scale in which migration literature is divided into four development stages ranging from testimonial accounts and autobiographical works to a ‘literature of postmigration’, in which the latter is clearly seen as being of greater literary value.21 Postmigration literature is consequently only an adequate term when used about second-generation migrant writers.

Transnational literature is another problematic term. I find it too vague and premature. As mentioned above, Ottmar Ette is one of the champions of this term. According to Ette, we are seeing a change from national to transnational literature, towards a literature with no fixed abode or domicile.22 Ette describes this literature as a “writing-between-worlds”, a literature that moves back and forth between different worlds. It is a nice thought, and the idea of a transnational literature certainly mirrors the new transcultural patterns that have been making themselves felt in our globalised society. But, to my mind, these patterns have yet to establish themselves to such an extent that they can form the framework for the creation of a literature that is truly transnational. I am not rejecting the term transnational or the notion of transnational literature as such, but I concur with Leslie Adelson’s view that “...some proclamations of the postnational [and hence the transnational] are simply premature.”23 As far as Italian migration literature is concerned, it seems very premature to use terms like transnational, whereas, it may be a more appropriate term

in, for example, a German context. If we are witnessing the birth of a truly transnational literature, we are, in my opinion, still in the embryonic stage.

Furthermore, Ottmar Ette himself rightly stresses that “a literature of no fixed abode” should not be equated with migration literature. One of the problems with Ette’s vague term is that it removes the focus from the way in which the works produced by migrant writers challenge the national canons. Rather than creating an actual transnational literature, migrant writers are currently contributing to an expansion of the national literature, although, when it comes to Italian literature, this contribution remains very moderate for the time being.

So, for the time being, I regard migration literature as the most useful label for this type of literature, and, unlike Lucia Quaquarelli, I do not find it necessary to delimit this literature further with the prefix ‘im’. In an Italian context, as more and more second-generation migrant writers emerge on the scene, it will, however, become necessary either to use the term postmigration, to find another term or at least to lean more towards the second and more general definition of migration literature, as these writers, who have either been born or raised in Italy, regard Italian as their mother tongue and not as a language acquired as a result of a migration process. In fact, Armando Gnisci, one of the first Italian scholars to write about migration literature, does not regard these second-generation writers as migrant writers, but simply as part of the contemporary scene of Italian literature. However, as Daniele Comberiati observes in his article on Italian postcolonial literature in Certi confini, these writers still fundamentally view their surroundings from a migrant’s perspective because of a family history of migration and because of their own legal position in Italy:

L’immigrato di seconda generazione, in Italia, pone questioni contrastanti anche dal punto di vista giuridico: per acquisire a tutti gli effetti la

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nazionalità italiana egli è obbligato a dimostrare, al compimento del diciottesimo anno di età, di non aver mai lasciato il paese natale e di avervi compiuto gli studi. Dal punto di vista letterario, linguistico, psicologico e talvolta anche sociale, poi, la portata del fenomeno migratorio è, se possibile, ancora più complessa e tale da non poter essere attutita completamente nel breve spazio temporale di una generazione: la seconda generazione è anzi il luogo privilegiato in cui [...] emergono i conflitti fra paese di provenienza e di accoglienza, fra cultura occidentale o coloniale e cultura d’origine.24

Multiculturality, Interculturality and TransculturalityIt is obviously quite understandable that a given writer may object to being labelled as a migrant writer, and consequently as exotic, instead of simply being regarded as a writer, not least if he or she has grown up in the country in question. However, labelling this literature as minority literature can also be seen as an expression of a respect for cultural differences and as an incentive to an intercultural dialogue between writer and reader. To my mind, there is no escaping that migration literature is currently a niche literature, and it may, as such, contribute to highlighting the multicultural, intercultural and transcultural aspects of a given society. Migration literature raises complex issues concerning language and identity, and it forms part of the multicultural, intercultural and transcultural patterns of movement that characterise the age of globalisation. In fact, one could argue in favour of replacing the term migration literature with intercultural literature or transcultural literature, as this would underline the dialogical aspect of this literature. Intercultural or transcultural literature is also preferable to multicultural literature, which does not necessarily entail a dialogue between the various cultures and which may consequently still imply that the writers are boxed firmly inside ethnic niches.

Multiculturality refers to the existence of different cultures within one and the same state or society. In terms of space, these

cultures may or may not be found in the same locations in the society or community in question. However, they are often still separate entities that fundamentally constitute single homogenous cultures. The concept of multiculturality is frequently regarded as being synonymous with tolerance and understanding of other cultures, but it does not necessarily entail an active meeting of cultures or an active cultural exchange, the interaction between the different cultures is often indirect and multiculturality is essentially still based on a definition of cultures as single homogenous islands.

Interculturality refers to a direct meeting between members of different cultures, who participate in a cultural exchange, but generally without questioning their own cultural affiliation.

Transculturality refers to constant movements across different cultures by culture bearers who do not have a stable or fixable relation to a single culture or a single cultural group.25 In terms of migration literature, the notion of transculturality seems to fit the way in which some migrant writers, not least among the second generation, move back and forth between different cultures.

The German philosopher Wolfgang Welsch is one of the advocates of the concept of transculturality.26 According to Welsch, foreign cultures are constantly present in a given culture at both macrolevel and microlevel. Welsch finds that the traditional description of cultures as islands or spheres is no longer valid because cultures are today characterised internally by a pluralisation of identities and externally by border-crossing patterns. Previously homogenous and separate cultures have assumed a new form, “which is to be called transcultural insofar that it passes through classical cultural boundaries.”27 Cultures are today highly interconnected and entangled with each other, one reason being the external networking of these cultures. They are characterised by hybridisation, and this altered cultural situation requires a new conception of culture: transculturality, which

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Welsch finds to be “the most adequate concept of culture today – for both descriptive and normative reasons.”28

For Welsch, interculturality and multicul-turality are well-intentioned concepts, but they remain essentially flawed because they are still based on the presupposition of single cultures as homogenous islands or enclosed spheres. Welsch also uses the concept of transculturality to question the uniformising effects of globalisation and the increasing ho-mogenisation of cultures. In Welsch’s opin-ion, transculturality does not equal uniformi-sation, and the tendency towards transcultur-ality does not mean that cultural formations are becoming the same all over the world. The process of transcultural development is instead simultaneously a process of unifica-tion and differentiation.

I have mentioned Welsch fairly extensively here because the concept of transculturality seems very well suited for a discussion of a migrant writer like Lakhous in a third space context. Unlike Welsch, however, I regard interculturality as a highly useful tool in transcultural processes, and Lakhous’ narrative strategy in Scontro di civiltà, based on both intercultural and transcultural dialogues, makes him a cross between an intercultural writer and a transcultural writer.

A Dialogical Intercultural and Transcultural Narrative Strategy

The PlotScontro di civiltà per un ascensore a piazza Vittorio is a socioanthropological crime comedy structured around a murder committed in an elevator in a block of flats located in piazza Vittorio, the centre of one of the most multiethnic areas in Rome. The murder victim is a resident in the building, Lorenzo Manfredini, also known as il Gladiatore, a highly unpopular person among the other residents. The prime suspect of the murder is another resident, Amedeo, who is the only person whom all the other residents respect and admire. The residents mostly

treat each other with disdain and suspicion, but they can agree on the excellent qualities of Amedeo. They all think that he is Italian because he speaks fluent Italian and has in-depth knowledge of Italian history, but he is, in fact, an immigrant. Amedeo works as a translator, has an Italian girlfriend and is a textbook example of the well-integrated immigrant. In the course of the novel, it is revealed that Amedeo’s real name is Ahmed and that he is from Algeria, from which he escaped following traumatic experiences involving the death of his fiancé at the hands of Muslim fundamentalists. Ahmed/Amedeo has created a new life for himself in Italy. However, he remains tormented by a sense of having betrayed Bàgia, which is the name of both his fiancé and his native country Algeria. He has nightmares about his double betrayal. The image of the open wound, to which Lakhous often refers when explaining why he continues to write in Arabic, is used in Scontro di civiltà in reference to the name Bàgia: “Peccato, Bàgia si fa viva solo negli incubi avvolta in un lenzuolo macchiato di sangue. Oh, mia ferita aperta che non guarirai mai!”29 Ahmed/Amedeo has disappeared following the murder of Il Gladiatore. Towards the end of the novel, it is revealed that he is not hiding from the police, but has been hospitalised following a traffic accident. The story is told alternately by a number of the other residents in the building and by Ahmed/Amedeo himself. I will return to the structure of the novel below, but I will first comment briefly on the genesis of the novel and on the identity conflict that constitutes the novel’s principal theme.

Language and IdentityAmara Lakhous originally wrote Scontro di civiltà per un ascensore a piazza Vittorio in an Arabic version in 2003. Translated into Italian, the title of the original version is Come farti allattare dalla lupa senza che ti morda, which shows how Lakhous cleverly uses Roman mythology as part of his narrative strategy. The novel contains several references to the she-wolf

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and to Romulus and Remus.30 In fact, Ahmed/Amedeo repeatedly compares himself to the two orphans to stress his combined sense of rootlessness and rootedness in relation to the Italian host culture: “Mi allatto dalla lupa insieme ai due orfanelli Romolo e Remo. Adoro la lupa, non posso fare a meno del suo latte.”31 The Italian novel from 2006 is consequently based on a previous novel written in another language, which means that it does not fully meet the first of the two standard definitions of migration literature. It is, however, important to stress that the novel was not translated, but rewritten, from the original version, and there seems to be a consensus among the critics that it falls within the category of migration literature written by migrants in another language than their mother tongue, despite the original version having been written by Lakhous in Arabic.32

Lakhous’ writing process, in which he writes first in Arabic and then in Italian, raises translingual issues. A characteristic feature of the works produced by Italian migrant writers is that they generally incorporate foreign elements in their use of the Italian language. In fact, one of the most interesting aspects of Italian migration literature is the way in which these writers represent a potential for renewal of the Italian language. As a writer, Lakhous is very conscious of this linguistic challenge, and he refers to his own Italian as un italiano arabizzato: “...scrivendo cerco di arabizzare l’italiano e di italianizzare l’arabo.”33

Language is closely linked with identity and with the sense of belonging to or being excluded from a given culture. In Scontro di civiltà, this is mirrored by the way in which Ahmed/Amedeo creates an Italian identity for himself through his mastery of the Italian language. As Ahmed/Amedeo, whose dual name already acts as an indicator of a dual identity, observes in the novel: “Non abitiamo un paese ma una lingua. La lingua italiana è la mia nuova dimora?”34 The first of these two sentences is a quote from one of the aphorisms of the Rumanian writer Emil Cioran. The quote refers to the migrant’s

search for a new home and the risk of being suspended between two worlds, with no home to return to and no real attachment to the new culture. Language then becomes the key to the establishment of a new cultural identity for the migrant. The intertextual reference to Cioran also serves as an example of how Lakhous’ uses his intertextual strategy thematically to support the identity issues discussed in the novel.

Lakhous uses the Italian language, including Italian dialects, to establish a dialogue with the Italian reader, but, like the protagonist in the novel, he also uses Italian to create an identity for himself in Italian society. The linguistic duality that characterises the production of this novel, with two versions in two languages, and with the Italian version being a product of the Arabian original, is thus also connected with the ambivalence of identity that is a general characteristic feature of Lakhous’ works.35 The frequent intertextual references in the novel and Lakhous’ use of the Italian giallo form part of a deliberate narrative strategy aimed at finding a solution to this identity conflict.

The search for identity is probably the most dominant theme in migration literature in general. As Lucia Quaquarelli states in her article on identity as the principal theme in migration literature, there is an almost obsessive interest in the question of identity among migrant writers, not least among those who belong to the second generation.36 As she rightly points out, the theme has evolved in line with the establishment of these migrant writers in Italian society:

Se inizialmente si ha l’impressione di assistere, sul piano degli eventi, ad un conflitto tra una supposta identità di partenza e un’altrettanto supposta identità di arrivo, imposta e non negoziabile – conflitto tra due mondi, due culture, due lingue apparentemente irriducibili tra cui si è chiamati a scegliere –, nella maggior parte dei testi presi in esame la narrazione progressivamente si sposta verso un conflitto diverso, quello tra vuoto identitario e identità ‘multipla’, tra il non-essere-più e l’essere-molti-

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insieme, tra l’io-non-sono e l’io siamo.37

This issue is at the heart of the identity problems discussed in Scontro di civiltà. Ahmed/Amedeo is engaged in a struggle to realise the multiple or hybrid identity that he has attempted to establish for himself. Throughout the novel, however, he is staring into the abyss of a dissolving identity. The protagonist’s identity conflict is therefore not principally rooted in a choice between two worlds, two cultures and two languages, but in the threat of no identity vs. the creation of a new hybrid identity. The protagonist’s identity conflict is mirrored in the author’s own identity situation as a migrant writer in Italia. As we shall see below, the narrative strategy adopted by Lakhous, with the use of genre and intertextuality as dialogical tools, helps boost his own hybrid identity, but not that of his protagonist.

In migration literature in general, the identity theme is often connected with both an internal threat and an external threat. The migrant’s identity is threatened in the meeting with a new culture, but the migrant also constitutes a threat to the natives’ identity and culture. A particular strong point of Lakhous’ novel is that he deals with issues of identity on both sides of the fence.

The Structure of the NovelMany ethnic voices are, in fact, heard in the novel, which is structured around 11 chapters containing statements by eleven witnesses, ten of whom are residents of the building in piazza Vittorio in which the murder has been committed. The eleventh ‘witness’ is the policeman in charge of the investigation, il commissario Mauro Bettinari. The residents step forward in turns to address an invisible interlocutor or interrogator to whom they give witness statements about the protagonist’s innocence and about the odiousness of their fellow residents. The witnesses all believe that Ahmed/Amedeo did not commit the murder. However, they are more interested in spouting

personal grievances and voicing their opinions about their neighbours than in giving direct evidence about the crime itself. The witness statements thus describe various prejudices, cultural clashes and misunderstandings between the residents, who are a mix of immigrants and Italians from different regions.38 The Italian characters in the novel come from Naples, Milan and Rome, and they are presented as comical regional stereotypes who are as prejudicial of each other as they are of the immigrant residents in the building. In turn, the immigrant characters are presented as examples, or case studies, of the problems that an immigrant encounters in the new culture: incomprehension, solitude, alienation, violence, prejudice, poverty, nostalgia for the home country, etc. The encounters between the cultures represented by the various characters result in three types of clashes: between immigrants and Italians, between immigrants from different countries and between Italians from different regions. The central metaphorical space for these clashes is the scene of the crime, the elevator, which becomes a symbol of the small spaces that we wish to protect from invasion by others and of the claustrophobic narrow-mindedness that dominates our attitudes towards the Other. The residents all have differing views on how the elevator should be used, and their attitudes to the elevator reflect their different cultural backgrounds.39 Other than being the murder site, the elevator is consequently the site of the clash of civilisations referred to in the title of the novel. Furthermore, as Maria Grazia Negro observes in her article on Scontro di civiltà, the elevator may be seen as a metaphor for contemporary Italian society: “l’ascensore con i suoi guasti frequenti diventa metafora dell’Italia contemporanea e delle difficoltà sulla strada della convivenza.”40 However, in my opinion, the elevator can also be interpreted as a potential intercultural connector that can move up and down between the different cultures on the various floors of the multiethnic environment that the building constitutes. The ambiguous

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metaphorical use of the elevator is typical of the way in which Lakhous relativises one of the principal intertexts in the novel, Samuel Huntington’s book The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order, to which the title of the novel refers.41

The residents all offer their own version of the truth and question the versions provided by the others. In addition to the 10 witness statements, the novel contains a chapter in which il commissario Mauro Bettarini offers both a false version of the events, in which Ahmed/Amedeo is named as the murderer, and the true version of the events, in which Ahmed/Amedeo is found to be innocent and the real murderer is revealed. Truth and relativity are consequently also important elements in the novel. In Lucia Quaquarelli’s analysis, she finds that the truth offered by il commissario is no more valid than the ‘truths’ presented by the other residents and by Ahmed/Amedeo himself: “Nessuna verità è davvero sconfessata dalle altre verità, nessuna dalle altre emendate. Nessuno mente. Ciascuno dice la sua verità.”42 Unlike Quaquarelli, I do not find that the truth is presented as relative in the novel. There is, in fact, a true course of events, which is confirmed by both il commissario and the protagonist, despite the latter’s hatred of the truth.43 Moreover, at least one of the characters, the murderer Elisabetta Fabiani, is deliberately lying.

The eleven chapters containing the witness statements and il commissario’s comments alternate with Ahmed/Amedeo’s diary entries, which he records on a small tape-recorder in his bathroom at night and which are referred to as ululati (howls) in the novel.44 These howls are numbered from one to ten plus a final howl referred to as l’ultimo ululato.45 The eleven howls consequently match the eleven witness statements in number. The howls give a different version of the events, and they often comment on and shed new light on the other residents and their views. The witness statements can also be seen as brief monologues that are in a conflict-ridden indirect dialogue with each other and with the

reader, who, when comparing the residents’ contradictory statements, becomes sceptical of their interpretations of the truth. From an intertextual perspective, these monologues and Ahmed/Amedeo’s howls may, moreover, be seen as examples of internal intertextuality, as each of the brief texts refers to and comments on the other texts.

As the novel progresses, Ahmed/Amedeo’s tragic past is also revealed in these diary recordings. The howls present Ahmed/Amedeo’s version of the truth, but they also contain a discussion of his search for identity. Ahmed/Amedeo struggles with his dual identity as an immigrant and as a fully integrated member of Italian society. He is, in fact, so integrated as to be mistaken for an Italian, which makes him feel guilty of having betrayed his original culture. In the novel, Ahmed/Amedeo tries to break free from the chains of what he perceives as a dual identity that is threatening to dissolve his sense of himself: “È meraviglioso potersi liberare dalle catene dell’identità che ci portano alla rovina. Chi sono io? Chi sei? Chi sono? Sono domande inutili e stupide.”46 Ahmed/Amedeo makes these observations after having read the Lebanese writer Amin Maalouf ’s novel Leone l’Africano, in which the protagonist changes name at each stage of his life in a movement between different identities. The reference to Maalouf is another example of how Lakhous consistently uses his intertextual references thematically. Ahmed/Amedeo’s attempt to deal with his identity problems is described as a solitary process. He is like a lone wolf howling at the moon, hence the reference to ululati, which, as mentioned, is also a reference to the she-wolf in Roman mythology, from which the protagonist imagines that he suckles. His problem is how his relationship with the she-wolf as an adoptive maternal figure will affect his identity:

Ormai conosco Roma come vi fossi nato e non l’avessi mai lasciata. Ho il diritto di chiedermi: sono un bastardo come i gemelli Romolo e Remo oppure sono un figlio adottivo? La

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domanda fondamentale è: come farmi allattare dalla lupa senza che mi morda?47

Split Identities, Hybrid Identities and Third SpaceOn the face of it, Ahmed/Amedeo’s identity may seem to be split between his Algerian past and his Italian present. This mirrors the general view held by many critics and researchers in this field that the prevalent identity theme in migration literature has been connected with the migrant being split between two cultures. However, in my opinion, Ahmed/Amedeo’s identity struggle is not principally connected with such a split cultural identity. He is, instead, fighting against a total identity meltdown, and, throughout the novel, he tries concurrently to hold on to and let go of his dual identity. His real aim is to merge his two identities into a more fluent hybrid identity that will allow him to move back and forth between several identity-creating positions. However, in the final howl of the novel, Ahmed/Amedeo’s identity seems to disintegrate completely, destroyed by his own memory.

As a case study, Ahmed/Amedeo’s identity struggle fits well into the current debate on migrant identity. In fact, some experts in this field are increasingly focusing on the struggle between identity dissolution and the realisation of a hybrid identity rather than on split identities caught between two cultures. For example, Leslie Adelson finds that there is a risk of turning both culture and identity into much too rigid entities if the migrant’s position is regarded as being split or locked ‘between two worlds’.48 According to Adelson:

‘Between two worlds’ becomes conceptually problematic when the conceit is made to function as an analytical paradigm that is effectively incapable of accounting for cultures of migration as historical formations. Additional problems arise when whatever worlds are meant are presumed to be originary, mutually exclusive, and intact, the boundaries between them clear and absolute.49

Adelson convincingly argues that this ‘betweenness’ is based on a view of cultures as opposing and mutually exclusive worlds, with the space between being reserved for migrants “suspended on a bridge leading nowhere.”50

As a countermove against this suspension “between two worlds”, Homi K. Bhabha introduced the idea of a ‘third space’ as early as in 1994.51 Bhabha links the notion of a third space with cultural hybrids and hybrid identities. According to Bhabha, two distinct social and cultural groups that represent different positions and identities encounter and interact with each other in a special third space of enunciation in which the two cultures are disseminated and displaced from their original points of departure through the interweaving of different cultural elements. Bhabha’s view is that the borderline between two separate domains often provides an overlap between them in which a hybrid position may be established that is characterised by constantly changeable and unpredictable combinations of characteristic features of each of the two original positions. As a postcolonial theoretician, Bhabha connects these two positions with the colonial power (the coloniser) and the colonial subject (the colonised) respectively, and, in the exchange between the two parties, new cultural hybrids may thus be created via a third space in which both parties’ presumptions, prejudices and fixed practices are challenged and become open to reinterpretation. To my mind, this third space does not solely reflect postcolonial relations, and Bhabha’s theory has, in fact, been embraced and used in many different fields. As shown in this article, the concept of third space is also highly useful in a discussion of intertextuality and identity in migration literature.

Welsch’s transcultural approach, Adelson’s rejection of the migrant’s position as being locked ‘between two worlds’ and Bhabha’s idea of hybrid identities in a third space are all connected with the view that cultures are not rigid entities and that they need not be

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mutually exclusive. Lakhous incorporates these concepts in his creation of a third space in Scontro di civiltà.

What type of third space do we then encounter in Scontro di civiltà? Ahmed/Amedeo’s identity struggle can be seen as an attempt to create a hybrid identity for himself, an identity that needs a third space in which to express itself. While the protagonist fails in his struggle to create a valid identity for himself, Lakhous succeeds in establishing a dialogical third space in which he can conduct a dialogue with both himself and the reader. Lakhous’ third space is thus partly an identity-creating transcultural space, in which the author’s liquid hybrid identity can unfold and express itself, and partly a dialogical space in which the author’s Arabian culture and the reader’s Italian (or Western) culture can meet in an intercultural dialogue.

The Ironic Use of GenreLakhous’ narrative strategy for establishing these internal and external dialogical spatial relations is primarily based on his use of genre and intertextuality. He combines two highly popular genres in Italy, il giallo and la commedia all’italiana, in a hybrid genre, crime comedy, which he uses as reader bait. In addition, he consciously exaggerates the style connected with this hybrid genre through an abundant use of banal observations and clichés. Most of the characters in the novel are presented as cardboard stereotypes who spout banalities, who have a completely one-dimensional view of anyone from another culture and who are obsessed with football, food, etc. They are examples of rigid monocultures. This applies, in particular, to most of the Italian characters. However, even Ahmed/Amedeo can be seen as a stereotype: the hyper-integrated overachieving immigrant. The use of cardboard characters is part of a deliberate strategy in which Lakhous underlines his own ironic use of genre conventions as well as the clichés and stereotypes that dominate our general attitude to otherness, to the strangers who we encounter in our society on a daily

basis, but who we nevertheless often see as a threat.52 Comedy is, in fact, a typical means of expression for many migrant writers because it allows them to criticise some of the negative attitudes that prevail in the host countries in a less heavy-handed manner. As Maria Cristina Mauceri observes: “L’umorismo diventa per alcune scrittrici migranti una risorsa che consente loro di denunciare atteggiamenti negativi degli italiani verso gli stranieri in modo distaccato, ma non per questo meno efficace.”53 This obviously also applies to scrittori migranti.

Lakhous’ highly ironic, playful use of genre and the numerous intertextual references would seem to make him a kind of postmodern (or post-postmodern) writer, a connection that is further emphasised by the theme of identity dissolution, which is a typical postmodern theme. As a writer, Lakhous shares postmodern writers’ deliberate ironic use of intertexts and genre, but, for Lakhous, there is more at stake than merely a metafictional self-referential game. It should be stressed that the same is true of a number of postmodern writers, whose works are not merely empty metafiction, but are characterised by a fragmented commitment to the world around them. The question of commitment (impegno) has been a constant factor in modern Italian literature, and one of the cornerstones in the inherently negative attitude to postmodernism among many Italian critics and scholars has precisely been that they feel that postmodern writers fail to meet the requirement for social commitment.54 In the past ten years, this view has been challenged, especially by a number of foreign researchers and scholars, through the introduction of the concept of postmodern impegno, one of the new buzzwords in studies on Italian postmodern literature.55 The link between postmodern writers and migrant writers is highly interesting, and I will be exploring this subject in a separate article. It seems appropriate though to mention this issue here, as, although I do not regard Lakhous as a postmodern writer, one might see several

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links between Lakhous’ intertextual strategy and the notion of postmodern impegno.56

Intertextual Strategy: Gadda and LakhousLakhous wraps his ironic use of genre in a myriad of intertextual references. The principal intertext among the many references that constitute the intertextual universe in Scontro di civiltà is another Italian giallo, Carlo Emilio Gadda’s Quer pasticciaccio brutto de via Merulana, one of the masterpieces of modern Italian literature. Gadda’s work was originally published in serial form, in five episodes, in the literary journal Letteratura in 1946, and it was subsequently revised and published as a novel in 1957. The novel is set in Rome in 1927 during the early stages of the Fascist rule in Italy. The principal character is commissario Francesco Ingravallo, who heads the investigation of two crimes, a burglary and a murder, committed in two apartments in the same block of flats in via Merulana. The apartment of one of the residents, Contessa Menegazzi, has been burgled, and, a few days later, another woman, the very wealthy Liliana Balducci, who lives in the opposite apartment on the same floor, is murdered. The police investigation focuses on a possible connection between the two crimes. There is no need to go into further details on the plot of this famous novel here. It should merely be noted that while the burglars are seemingly caught at the end of the novel, the murder remains unsolved. Despite the crime plot structure, Gadda’s novel is essentially an anti-giallo. His real aim was to depict a complex, chaotic and fundamentally incomprehensible world, and, in the novel, reality is, indeed, presented as pure chaos, precisely as a pasticciaccio, a jumbled hotchpotch of events, characters and languages. The plot progression is highly unconventional with the employment of a strategy of digressions that equals Laurence Sterne’s ultradigressive style in The Life and Opinions of Tristam Shandy, Gentleman (1759-1767), which must have been an inspiration to Gadda. In Quer pasticciaccio brutto, the characters’ digressions about all manner of

conceivable subjects constantly threaten to dissolve the plot, and the myriad of voices that appear in the novel further muddles any clear view of the events. Gadda’s polyphonic style combined with a non-linear plot progression makes for difficult reading, and Gadda, well aware of the risk of reader alienation, cleverly used il giallo to reel in the reader.

In Quer pasticciaccio brutto, the depiction of a chaotic and incomprehensible world especially makes itself felt at the linguistic level. Gadda’s style was based on the use of a polyphony of voices in which he jumbled together Roman dialect, romanesco, various registers of standard Italian and a high-brow literary Italian. Another interesting aspect of the novel is that Gadda also used the giallo genre as a vehicle for social criticism. Setting the action of the novel in 1927 gave him an opportunity to skewer the values of an Italian society that had allowed Mussolini to take control of the country. The novel is an attack on Italian Fascism, and it is worth recalling that, although it was published in 1957, it was originally written shortly after the end of the Second World War in the wake of the collapse of Mussolini’s Fascist regime. Gadda also used the linguistic diversity and multiplicity of his novel to sneer at the Italian Fascists’ striving for an idealised uniform Italian language in which regionalisms, etc. were to be weeded out. Furthermore, Gadda’s use of il giallo can be seen as an ironic poke at Mussolini’s banning of the genre in 1941.57

There are many similarities between Scontro di civiltà and Quer pasticciaccio brutto, and Gadda’s novel forms the cornerstone of Lakhous’ intertextual strategy. Although the connection between the two novels has been mentioned by many critics and scholars, Ugo Fracassa is one of the few researchers who have actually discussed the links between these two gialli in depth.58 One of the principal points made by Ugo Fracassa is precisely that Lakhous’ use of Gadda and the giallo genre is a strategic choice that forms part of a deliberate strategy, a notion that Fracassa expands to other migrant writers in another article on Italian

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migration literature.59 According to Fracassa, migrant writers can adopt various strategies to communicate with the target readers in the host culture.60 Fracassa argues that these strategies can be used by the migrant writer to move beyond the autobiographical angle that characterised the first wave of migrant writers in Italy. It is certainly correct that there has been a move away from such testimonial literature by Italian migrant writers. These books typically dealt with the journey to the new country and the efforts to find a job, a place to live, etc, and the stories were typically told with the assistance of an Italian ‘midwife’, a journalist or an author. Although one should perhaps show some caution in creating this type of hierarchy for migration literature in which autobiographical accounts are seen as a first testimonial stage that is of less literary value than other subsequent types of migration literature, Fracassa certainly has a point when referring to strategy as an important factor for migrant writers. This definitely applies to a writer like Lakhous, who is very conscious of how he should approach the readers in the host culture. Fracassa also rightly mentions intertextuality as one of the strategies that are available to the migrant writer:

In secondo luogo, la pressione sul canone nazionale viene esercitata attraverso il ricorso, insistito ed ostentato, al richiamo intertestuale. Sotto forma di citazione, omaggio, riscrittura o parodia, e insomma nei modi del dialogismo intertestuale, certi autori sollecitano le istituzioni della letteratura ad uno scambio troppo spesso, fin qui, unidirezionale.61

However, when discussing Lakhous’ intertextual use of Gadda’s novel, Fracassa fails to connect Lakhous’ intertextual strategy with the themes discussed in Scontro di civiltà. Instead, he simply finds that Lakhous’ novel is a “vera e propria parodia” of Gadda’s masterpiece, and he principally sees Lakhous’ use of Quer pasticciaccio brutto and the other intertextual references in Scontro di civiltà as a homage to Gadda and to Italian culture in

general: “...un vero campionario di omaggi alla nostra cultura letteraria, cinematografica, nonche al nostro costume.”62 It is certainly correct that paying tribute to Gadda and using other Italian cultural references can be seen as part of a marketing and communication strategy aimed at an Italian audience. However, Lakhous’ novel also contains many intertextual references to works that do not form part of Italian culture. Furthermore, the intertexts in Scontro di civiltà are all used thematically to support the novel’s overall theme, which consists of three elements: identity, truth and memory. It is precisely Lakhous’ consistent thematic use of intertextual references that makes his novel interesting. Otherwise, it would merely be a display of intertextual fireworks. Below, I will first discuss some of the links between Quer pasticciaccio brutto and Scontro di civiltà, and I will then show how Lakhous uses Gadda’s novel and a number of other intertextual references as part of a deliberate strategy that is closely linked to the novel’s theme of identity.

The Links between the Two NovelsBoth Lakhous and Gadda are outsiders. Lakhous arrived from Algeria in 1995, and Gadda moved from Milan to Rome in 1927. Gadda was not only a milanese who found himself in a foreign environment in Rome and who had to deal with differences of mentality, etc. He was also an outsider in the Italian literary establishment. Lakhous consciously exploited Gadda’s position as an outsider in connection with the launch of Scontro di civiltà by never missing an opportunity to acknowledge the connection between Scontro di civiltà and Quer pasticciaccio brutto. Through his explicit references to Gadda as his main source of inspiration, Lakhous cleverly aligned his status as an outsider, both as a migrant and as a writer, with that of Gadda.

The two novels are both characterised by linguistic variation and by the use of dialects. Lakhous has himself repeatedly mentioned the linguistic link to Gadda, and he has stressed his search for a musical language,

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“la ricerca di una lingua musicale”, similar to the language used by Gadda.63 According to Lakhous, Quer pasticciaccio brutto was, in fact, the first novel that he read in Italian. Considering the difficulty of Gadda’s style, this would appear to be a slight exaggeration and an emblematic example of Lakhous’ eagerness to establish a link between himself and Gadda. Lakhous’ claim should probably be seen as part of the marketing strategy that constitutes an important part of his countless references to Gadda.64

Both authors consulted dialect experts while writing their novels. During the drafting of Quer pasticciaccio brutto, Gadda sought advice from a Roman poet and architect, Mario dell’Arco (Mario Fagiolo), an expert on romanesco. Lakhous likewise consulted various Italians for language input. In fact, he reportedly had around thirty drafts containing these consultants’ comments, which he then compiled into the final version.65 In addition, both novels use dialects to stress the regional contrasts and conflicts between Italians. Lakhous also uses dialect as an effective means of cementing his relationship with and affiliation to Italian culture.

Another link between the two novels is that some of the characters constantly confuse the identities of some of the other characters. In Quer pasticciaccio brutto, the characters often misunderstand each other’s names. In Scontro di civiltà, this confusion spreads to the residents’ nationalities. The prime example is obviously Ahmed/Amedeo, who is mistaken for an Italian by everyone else. Another example concerns the building’s Neapolitan caretaker, Benedetta Esposito, who thinks that the young Dutch resident, Johan Van Marten, comes from Sweden and that the Iranian refugee, Parviz Mansoor Samadi, is an Albanian (with all the negative connotations that this entails for an Italian). The confusion also makes itself felt linguistically with misunderstandings occurring between some of the characters because of diverging interpretations of the meaning of words like guaglio. Both Gadda and Lakhous stress that

language may, in fact, act not only as a means, but also as an obstruction, of communication between people.

Quer pasticciaccio brutto and Scontro di civiltà are obviously also linked through the two authors’ use of il giallo. As a genre, crime fiction is generally very well suited for parallel investigations of a crime plus something else, and this is precisely how both Gadda and Lakhous use the genre. In both these anti-gialli, the genre provides a framework for another discourse: in Gadda’s novel on the chaos and incomprehensibility of the world, in Lakhous’ novel on socio-anthropological relations, the need for intercultural dialogue and the identity challenges that a multicultural society entails. Furthermore, like Gadda, Lakhous uses il giallo as a genre to lure in the reader. In fact, the usefulness of the giallo as a genre has repeatedly been emphasised by Lakhous: “Ho usato il giallo per attirare l’attenzione su quello che sta accadendo perché quest’ultima si attiva quando c’è l’emergenza. Quindi mi sono detto: qui ci vuole un cadavere.”66

A more specific intertextual reference to Gadda’s Quer pasticciaccio brutto is found in the title of Lakhous’ novel.67 Both titles refer to places, via Merulana and piazza Vittorio, that are located in the same neighbourhood in Rome. In fact, Gadda’s novel contains several references to piazza Vittorio. Lakhous consequently uses place in the title of his novel to strengthen the connection with Gadda. Another reason for the choice of piazza Vittorio as the principal location in Lakhous’ novel is obviously that it is one of the most multiethnic quarters in the centre of Rome and consequently an ideal location for a discussion of clashes between different cultures.

Both these gialli are thus based in Rome, but it would be incorrect to regard them as urban crime novels. In fact, neither is characterised by the noir atmosphere typical of crime novels set in a large city. Several Italian critics have pointed out that Gadda’s Quer pasticciaccio brutto triggered a comeback for il giallo as a genre in Italy and that Gadda’s novel blazed

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a trail for the use of the city as a constituent element in Italian crime fiction, especially in the subgenre known as noir. Fracassa argues in favour of this view in his article on Gadda and Lakhous, and he refers to “la dimensione metropolitana” in Gadda’s novel.68 I find this view debatable. Gadda’s novel is an anti-giallo, and it is not permeated by any metropolitan or noir atmosphere. The novel might just as well have been set in a small town, and it is worth recalling that Rome was, in fact, a provincial town in 1927, which is when the novel takes place. The city only became a central space and a key player in the Italian giallo in the second half of the 1960s. The renewed interest in the genre among Italian writers and critics also stems from this period and not from the late 1950s. The renewed focus on the genre was especially a result of Giorgio Scerbanenco’s masterly quartet of novels featuring the disgraced doctor Duca Lamberti as the protagonist, a sort of tarnished white knight in a bleak metropolitan setting.69 These novels are all set in Milan, which is used as a co-protagonist, and the Duca Lamberti quartet put the city squarely at the centre of the Italian giallo. To be fair, Fracassa does mention Scerbanenco as one of the principal early contributors to Italian urban crime fiction. La donna della domenica (1972), written by the writer duo Carlo Fruttero & Franco Lucentini and set in Turin, can be mentioned as another important work in this respect. Gadda’s contribution to the emergence of the urban giallo or noir as a major subgenre in Italian crime fiction can thus be regarded as either negligible or non-existent. The importance of Quer pasticciaccio brutto as an early contribution to the re-emergence of il giallo as a genre is not connected with the city as a key player, but with the literary quality of Gadda’s novel and with his parallel investigations of crime and chaos. Gadda contributed to putting a quality stamp on il giallo as a genre, making it valid for renowned Italian writers to use the genre. His use of il giallo as a vehicle for an examination of ‘something else’ has also become a characteristic feature of the genre

in Italy. This ‘something else’ may manifest itself in literary experiments, re-examinations of historical ‘truths’ and socio-political investigations, to name but three principal examples of the duality that characterises the highly versatile Italian giallo. The genre has also been popular among postmodern Italian writers right from Italo Calvino’s Se una notte d’inverno un viaggiatore (1979) and Umberto Eco’s Il nome della rosa (1980) and onwards.70

One specific reference to Quer pasticciaccio brutto in Scontro di civiltà deserves special mention. In Gadda’s novel, Contessa Menegazzi has a dog, Lulu, which she thinks has been kidnapped. Lakhous uses this tiny detail as the motive behind the murder of Lorenzo Manfredini. At the end of the novel, it is revealed that one of the female residents, Elisabetta Fabiani, killed him to avenge her dog, Valentino, for whose kidnapping and subsequent death he was responsible.71

Although the murderer is thus caught at the end of Lakhous’ novel, another resemblance between Quer pasticciaccio brutto and Scontro di civiltà is that both novels show a complete lack of interest in the solution of the crime. Virtually all the Italian critics have noted that a marked difference between the two novels is that the murder is solved in Scontro di civiltà and not in Quer pasticciaccio brutto. However, in Scontro di civiltà, the crime is solved in a completely tongue-in-cheek manner with commissario Bettarini first naming Ahmed/Amedeo as the culprit, after which, in the same breath, Elisabetta Fabiani is revealed as the real killer. The ridiculous dog-vengeance motive seems to have been deliberately superimposed on the plot by Lakhous both as a direct tribute to Gadda and as a comment on his own ironic genre use. Fabiani’s exaggerated affection for her dog may also be seen as an observation by Lakhous on how some Italians seem to treat their pets more humanely than they treat their fellow human beings. The highly ironic unravelling of the case shows that, like Gadda, Lakhous merely shrugs at the conventions of the genre. His real interest lies elsewhere, and the main purpose behind his (and Gadda’s)

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use of the genre is to reel in the reader.An interesting indirect reference to Gadda’s

novel in Scontro di civiltà is the mention of the Italian film director Pietro Germi by both Ahmed/Amedeo and Johan Van Marten, the young Dutchman who also resides in the building.72 Johan is a great admirer of Italian cinema and especially neorealist directors like Rossellini and De Sica. He dreams of making a film located in piazza Vittorio, and, as a metafictional reference, one of the working titles of this film is Scontro di civiltà per un ascensore a piazza Vittorio.73 The reference to Pietro Germi concerns the classic Italian comedy Divorzio all’italiana (1961). However, Germi also directed the film adaptation of Gadda’s novel, Un maledetto imbroglio, in 1959. Once again, Lakhous stresses both the connection to Gadda and his deliberate use of a hybrid genre – the crime comedy. The reference to Germi is merely one of countless references to films in Lakhous’ novel. Cinematic references are, in fact, a trademark of Lakhous’ writing, and his latest novel from 2010, Divorzio all’islamica in viale Marconi, also contains many references to films.

Another parallel between Gadda and Lakhous is that, in both novels, all the characters have their own versions of the truth. Gadda viewed the truth as relative, and this clearly makes itself felt in Quer pasticciaccio brutto. Truth and relativity also constitute a central theme in Scontro di civiltà, in which the theme is incorporated in the structure of the novel with the witness statement chapters each bearing the heading La verità di followed by the name of the witness in question. However, as I have argued above, it would be incorrect to claim that Lakhous’ novel is an expression of the relativity of the truth. The truth is not relative in Scontro di civiltà. It is muddled. The various characters muddle the true course of events through their preconceived attitudes and prejudices, but Lakhous does not allow his characters effectively to relativise the truth. Amedeo’s howls and commissario Bettarini’s summing up of the facts of the case contain the true

version of the events. Furthermore, there is no principle of relativity connected with the prejudices discussed in the novel. They are strongly and unequivocally condemned.

Finally, polyphony can be mentioned as another common denominator for the two novels. According to Lakhous, his use of multiple voices has been modelled on Gadda. However, Scontro di civiltà is not nearly as polyphonic as Quer pasticciaccio brutto.74 Lakhous’ novel does not contain a number of completely equal and independent voices, and his style is consequently not strictly polyphonic in the Bakhtinian sense. However, it is worth bearing in mind that Julia Kristeva’s original definition of intertextuality in her famous article Bakthine, le mot, le dialogue et le roman from 1967 was based on Bakhtin’s notions of dialogism and polyphony.75 Intertextuality consequently has an inherent dialogical and polyphonic element. Intertextuality is essentially connected with a dialogue between texts, and even if the multiple voices in Scontro di civiltà are not truly polyphonic, these voices are in a semi-polyphonic dialogue with each other. The use of several voices, combined with the intertextual dialogue between a large number of texts, underlines the dialogical nature of Lakhous’ narrative strategy.

Lakhous thus uses Gadda’s novel as a stylistic model through the adoption of a semi-polyphonic style with multiple points of view as well as an ironic use of dialects and genre conventions. In addition, Scontro di civiltà contains several direct references to Gadda’s masterpiece. This forms part of a dialogical intertextual strategy, but Lakhous’ references to one of the jewels in the crown of Italian literature is also connected with an effective marketing strategy based on a highly conscious use of an Italian classic that belongs firmly to the high-brow end of the scale of Italian literature. There is a deeply ingrained respect for high-brow literature and the classics among Italian critics as well as among a large part of the reading public in Italy. The latter may not actually have read these works, but they like the notion of such a canon,

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so Lakhous’ use of Gadda is an intelligent strategy that has been a major factor in the relatively large-scale success of the book.76 Many Italian critics have, in fact, viewed the connection between Scontro di civiltà and Quer pasticciaccio brutto precisely as a clever marketing ploy. As mentioned above in my discussion of Fracassa’s articles, these critics only regard the references to Quer pasticciaccio brutto as a tribute to Gadda without considering the further implications of a migrant writer’s intertextual use of one of the classics of modern Italian literature. In the same breath, these critics make it quite clear that, in terms of literary quality, Lakhous’ novel is nowhere near the vertiginous altitude of Gadda’s position in the Italian canon. Marco Lodoli’s review of the novel is a good example of this attitude: “Il romanzo dello scrittore algerino non arriva alle ginocchia del capolavoro di Gadda, però si fa leggere con piacere.”77 It is quite obvious that Gadda is at another level as a writer compared to Lakhous, but such a quality comparison seems completely beside the point, and it overlooks Lakhous’ dialogical intertextual strategy.

Other References in Lakhous’ Intertextual UniverseLakhous uses a myriad of other intertexts to underpin the above intercultural and transcultural dialogical relations. For reasons of space, only a limited number of examples will be mentioned. These examples have been selected partly to give an impression of the intertextual range and complexity of Scontro di civiltà and partly to illustrate how Lakhous uses these intertextual references thematically.

One of the principal intertexts in the novel is Lakhous’ own original version of Scontro di civiltà: Come farti allattare dalla lupa senza che ti morda. The linguistic influences from the Arabian version may be seen as an expression of internal intertextuality. The Arabian version was constantly used as a reference in connection with the rewriting process, in which the writer’s two identities were engaged in a special kind of dialogue. The process was, in fact, reciprocal, as the Arabian version

contains notes and explanations for the many Italian names, references, etc. According to Lakhous, the influences between the two languages are indeed reciprocal in his works. The two versions are consequently engaged in an internal intertextual dialogue with each other.

The other principal Arabian intertext used by Lakhous is Arabian Nights, which, in Scontro di civiltà, is primarily linked to the necessity of telling stories in order to survive. The migrant has to make himself heard in the new culture by constantly narrating stories related to migration and identity. This is expressly pointed out by Ahmed/Amedeo in his last howl at the end of the novel: “Dobbiamo raccontare per sopravvivere.”78 The references to Arabian Nights in the novel are complex, as Ahmed/Amedeo compares himself to both Scheherazade and Shahrayar, with the latter being used as a metaphor for the protagonist’s memory. Throughout the novel, Ahmed/Amedeo compares his memory to a wild animal, a wolf, and to the stone of Sisyphus, but he also compares it to a sword (Shahrayar’s sword) that continuously hangs over him threatening to destroy him. In fact, this seems to occur at the end of the novel in Ahmed/Amedeo’s last diary recording in which his memory appears to destroy his identity:

Insegnami, Shahrazad, come sconfiggere lo Shahrayar che sta dentro di me. La mia memoria è Shahrayar. Auuu... La mia memoria è Shahrayar. Auuuu... La mia memoria è Shahrayar. Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...79

Another parallel between the two works is that Arabian Nights is constructed as a storytelling machine. The witness structure in Scontro di civiltà can also be seen as a storytelling machine. In principle, other witnesses could be added to the novel in a continuous storytelling process.

Having mentioned two principal Arabian intertexts, I will, in the following, briefly focus on two important sociopolitical and anthropological references, Samuel Huntington’s The Clash of Civilizations (1996) and Sigmund Freud’s essay Totem und Tabu

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(1912-1913). The title of Lakhous’ novel is a direct reference to Samuel Huntington’s book. According to Huntington, all future large-scale international conflicts will be based on cultural differences. Huntington divides the world up into seven, possibly eight, different civilisations, which he primarily defines on the basis of cultural and religious parameters. Huntington’s main point is that the future will be characterised by inevitable conflicts based on clashes between these civilisations.80 The reference to Huntington is further emphasised by the illustration on the cover of the book, which shows the various characters in Scontro di civiltà, who are linked to each by a number of full and dotted lines. This is a reference to the lines of conflict in Huntington’s conflict model.81 However, Scontro di civiltà constitutes a relativisation of Huntington’s model. In the novel, there are internal clashes between Italians, and there are also intercultural meetings between characters of different ethnic backgrounds. This duality can also be seen in the complex metaphor of the elevator, which, as discussed above, is respectively the site of the murder, the place for a clash of cultures, a metaphor for Italian society and a potential vehicle for intercultural connections. Lakhous thus partly reverses Huntington’s model, and he uses the American political scientist’s book to stress that although conflicts between different civilisations will undoubtedly continue to occur in the future, they are not all inevitable, nor are they the only possibility for dealing with cultural differences. The dialogical third space established in the novel may be one way of dealing with such cultural differences.

The novel also contains a quote from Sigmund Freud’s Totem and Tabu, the anthropological essay in which Freud presented the basis for his theory of culture. Ahmed/Amedeo refers to this work in one of his diary entries: “Questa sera mi sono fermato a lungo su queste parole di Totem e Tabu di Freud: Il nome di un essere umano è un elemento del suo essere, anzi, è una parte della sua anima.”82 Like many of the other

intertextual references, this quote is linked to the identity theme in the novel and, more specifically, to the protagonist’s double name. If a person’s name is a fundamental part of his or her being and soul, and if a person has a double name, one of the components of which is false, this automatically raises the question of the impact hereof on that person’s soul. Even though the protagonist endeavours to convert his dual identity into a more hybrid identity, the false basis on which this identity is based seems to defeat him.

Out of the many other categories of intertextual references contained in Scontro di civiltà, the references to Italian authors deserve special mention. We have already seen how Lakhous uses Gadda as his main intertextual framework. Other important Italian authors like Leonardo Sciascia, Carlo Levi and Cesare Pavese also form part of Lakhous’ intertextual strategy.

Leonardo Sciascia’s masterly novel Il giorno della civetta (1961) is quoted on the initial page of the novel before the beginning of the first chapter. This page also contains two quotes from works by the Egyptian poet Amal Donkol and the Algerian journalist and author Tahar Djaout, thus underlining the cultural complexity of the novel’s intertextual universe. The same quote from Sciascia’s novel is then repeated later in the novel: “La verità è nel fondo di un pozzo: lei guarda in un pozzo e vede il sole o la luna; ma se si butta giù non c’è né sole né luna, c’è la verità.”83 Sciascia was one of the fathers and masters of the Italian giallo, and the reference to Il giorno della civetta obviously underlines Lakhous’ use of the giallo genre. More importantly, however, the quote is thematically linked to the truth theme in Scontro di civiltà. As mentioned earlier, the characters each have their own versions of the truth, but, in fact, they see a reflection, or a distortion, of the truth formed by their own prejudices in the same way as the truth is distorted and concealed in Sciascia’s novels. Like Sciascia’s truth at the bottom of the well, the truth in Scontro di civiltà is buried below the characters’ preconceived notions of

138 Peter Dyrby

otherness and the other. The theme of truth and relativity is further emphasised by the use of Akira Kurosawa’s film Rashomon (1950) as a reference in Scontro di civiltà. This highly influential film narrates the circumstances of a rape and a murder, which are presented in widely differing versions by the parties involved, who address the camera (or judge) directly in the same way as the characters in Scontro di civiltà address an unseen interlocutor or interrogator.84

Carlo Levi’s Cristo si è fermato a Eboli (1945) constitutes another important intertext in Scontro di civiltà. The reference to Levi brings up the theme of exile, which is, in turn, linked to the theme of identity. Levi wrote his famous novel while he was living in confinement as an internee in the village of Aliano in Basilicata, to which he had been exiled by the Fascist regime in 1935-1936. As mentioned above, Lakhous regards himself as both a migrant writer and a writer in exile, and the reference to Carlo Levi’s work should be read as an acknowledgement by Lakhous that his life in Italy is connected with an incomplete exile. In this context, exile should be taken to mean that Lakhous has not severed his ties with his original culture. Rather, he is trying to establish a new hybrid identity for himself in which he can express both his cultural origin and his Italianness, whereas Ahmed/Amedeo is trying to shed his original identity.

The third of the Italian authors selected as examples here is Cesare Pavese. The last of Ahmed/Amedeo’s howls has the heading Ultimo ululato o prima che il gallo canti.85 Prima che il gallo canti (1948) is the title of a book by Cesare Pavese, which contains the two novels Il carcere and La casa sulla collina. Both these novels deal with the protagonist’s incapacity to establish a relationship with the surrounding environment and with other people. In Scontro di civiltà, Ahmed/Amedeo has succeeded in establishing good relationships with the other residents, and with Italian society in general, as a model immigrant. However, these relationships have been established under false premises and under a false identity.

The reference to Pavese may thus be seen as a question mark regarding the stability of the relationships that Ahmed/Amedeo has established with his surroundings as well as the stability of his identity.

The above examples of intertexts, ranging right from Arabian Nights and Totem and Tabu to Italian literary classics, document the intertextual complexity of Scontro di civiltà and show how Lakhous uses intertextual references to support the dominant theme of identity, truth and memory in the novel. Many other examples, including references to writers like the French poet René Char and the Algerian author Kateb Yacine, could have been discussed.

Sociocultural ReferencesIn addition to the many intertextual references, Lakhous uses a profusion of other references that are perhaps more sociocultural than intertextual. These references constitute a veritable spouting of the names of a wide variety of persons ranging right from philosophers, politicians, authors and directors to actors, top models, musicians and football players. Karl Popper, Herbert Marcuse and Louis Aragon are mentioned in the same breath as Marcello Mastroianni, Fabrizio De André and Claudia Schiffer. There is no need to list a large number of examples here. The most important aspect of this namedropping is the sheer volume of these references, with a rough count giving around eighty such names as well as titles of films and TV programmes in a very short novel.

The sociocultural references are used to describe the various characters in the novel. They are also used metaphorically. For example, Johan Van Marten, who, in addition to being a cineaste, is also a football enthusiast, mentions a number of football players, mostly from the Netherlands and South America, who, in their inventiveness and adaptability, are used as symbols of an open and flexible way in which to approach other cultures. These footballers are then contrasted with the legendary bone-crushing

Genre anD IntertextualIty as a DIaloGIcal narratIve strateGy 139

Italian defender Claudio Gentile, whose ultradefensive take-no-prisoners approach to the game mirrors the general Italian attitude towards immigrants. Johan compares the highly defensive style, personified by Gentile, that has been a cornerstone of the Italian football philosophy, the so-called catenaccio, with the Dutch preference for a much more flexible system: calcio totale (total football). Johan refers to il catenaccio as maledetto and notes how this defensive attitude permeates Italian society: “Il catenaccio c’entra eccome! Non è solo un modulo difensivo del calcio, ma un modo di pensare e di vivere, frutto del sottosviluppo, della chiusura e della preclusione del lucchetto.”86 In the novel, these two highly different cultural approaches to football, la cultura del catenaccio and la cultura del calcio totale, become an image of a rigid monoculture vs. a more flexible multiculture.87 To distance himself from the inflexible Italian system, Johan constantly repeats a standard phrase: “Io non sono GENTILE”, yet another example of the risk of cultural misunderstandings in the novel. 88

Most importantly, the sociocultural references are used to support Lakhous’ intertextual strategy and to secure a contact and dialogue with the readers, who may not necessarily have read Gadda or the other works used as intertexts in the novel. Intertextuality entails reader involvement, and it could be argued that the same applies to the sociocultural namedropping used by Lakhous as part of his dialogical strategy. Lakhous is communicating with another culture than his own culture of origin, but he does so from the dual position of an insider and an outsider. The many intertextual and sociocultural references show that Lakhous has in-depth knowledge of both Italian and Western culture, and the references should be seen as an extended hand towards the reader. The many references also undermine the idea of an inevitable clash of cultures, as they indicate that we all have some sort of joint cultural framework of references.

ConclusionAs shown above, Lakhous uses two popular genres, crime and comedy, a masterpiece of Italian literature and a cornucopia of other intertextual and sociocultural references to establish a dialogical relationship with Italian (and Western) readers. An additional, highly interesting aspect of this dialogical intertextual strategy is that Lakhous also uses the intertextual universe of Scontro di civiltà to enter into a dialogue with himself. Lakhous is thus engaged in both an external intercultural dialogue with the reader and in an internal transcultural dialogue with himself in which he tries to free his own identity as a writer from a suspension “between two worlds” through the creation of a dialogical third space. According to Homi Bhabha, the third space is precisely a space in which positions that differ from the original starting points (two different cultures) can manifest themselves in an intercultural or transcultural dialogue. In my opinion, Lakhous conducts both these types of dialogue via the third space that he establishes in his novel. His dialogue with the reader is based on an intercultural exchange of values with reader participation and reader involvement as important factors. The dialogue that Lakhous conducts with himself is transcultural in the sense that he tries to move between different cultures in a constant movement back and forth between them.

The references to Welsch and transcultur-ality become highly relevant in this context. Transculturality also exists at the individual microlevel. According to both Welsch and Bhabha, most of us are cultural hybrids, and Lakhous can be seen as a good example of the migrant writer as a cultural hybrid who ex-presses himself in a transcultural third space. However, Ahmed/Amedeo’s failure to estab-lish a hybrid identity for himself in the novel underlines that Lakhous is aware of the diffi-culties involved in inhabiting such a transcul-tural third space.

The concepts of transculturality and third space are consequently closely connected with the dominant identity theme in the novel. In a

140 Peter Dyrby

wider context, transculturality and third space also become important concepts in relation to identity issues in Italian migration literature in general, especially for the increasing number of second-generation writers. In fact, the identity problems discussed by these writers tend to focus on the creation of multiple hybrid identities rather than on identities split between two cultures.

An analysis of the intertextual elements in Scontro di civiltà only becomes truly interesting once the numerous intertextual references are connected with the identity theme or with one of the other themes dealt with in the novel. Otherwise, it merely becomes an exercise in one’s ability to recognise and rattle off references to other works. As my analysis shows, the intertextual elements in Scontro di civiltà can be linked with the identity theme in the novel and with the writer’s attempt at creating a transcultural third space in which his own hybrid identity can express itself.

Lakhous consequently uses intertextuality as a means of discussing cultural identity issues. In addition, the intertextual references in Scontro di civiltà are an expression of a conscious strategy vis-à-vis the target culture. This strategy is both a clever marketing ploy and an attempt to create an intercultural dialogical space for an encounter between the writer and the reader and between the many cultures that are described in the novel. The importance of such an intercultural dialogue is illustrated by the many misunderstandings and clashes between the different ethnic groups in the novel, who take up rigid positions in a multicultural community.

I find Lakhous’ strategy to be highly effective. In my opinion, it is neither an expression of a genuflection before, nor a subversion of, Italian and Western culture. Lakhous succeeds in establishing a relationship with the reader through his use of two popular genres, through his numerous intertextual and sociocultural references and through the reader involvement with which intertextuality is closely connected. He thus also succeeds in establishing a third space for

an intercultural dialogue. The effectiveness of Lakhous’ dialogical

intercultural and transcultural narrative strategy in Scontro di civiltà becomes even more apparent if one looks at his latest novel, Divorzio all’islamica a viale Marconi, in which he tries to repeat the success of his previous novel.89 However, in Divorzio all’islamica, his ironic and deliberately stereotyped style falls completely flat precisely because this novel does not have the same strong intertextual framework as Scontro di civiltà. Lakhous’ latest novel does contain one interesting intertextual aspect though. It has two narrators, a man and a woman, who, in alternating chapters, offer a male and a female perspective on the various issues raised in the book. This is the same structure used by another Italy-based migrant writer, the Iraqi author Younis Tawfik, in his novel La straniera.90 The use of two alternating narrators and a double male/female perspective is obviously not limited to migration literature, and, in Italian literature, this double narrative approach has, for example, also recently been used by a bestselling author like Andrea de Carlo in his latest novel Leielui.91 It consequently cannot simply be taken for granted that Lakhous has consciously used La straniera as an intertext for the structure of his new novel. However, from an intertextual perspective, it would certainly be interesting if Italian migrant writers were to make more extensive use of each other’s novels as an intertextual component. This would contribute further to the movement towards new transcultural and translinguistic patterns in literature, a movement to which migrant writers are currently contributing.

Peter DyrbyMA, Italian Studies & MA, Translation

and Interpretationcand.mag. & cand.interpret.

Viborggade 13, 3. th.2100 København Ø

peter.dyrby@mail.tele.dk

Genre anD IntertextualIty as a DIaloGIcal narratIve strateGy 141

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I would like to thank Queen Ingrid’s Roman Foundation and the Danish Academy in Rome for granting me a scholarship to write this article at the Danish Academy during a two-month stay. I would also like to thank the competent staff at the Danish Academy for their friendly and helpful attitude. Special thanks go to the now former Director of the Danish Academy, Erik Bach, for his excellent people management skills. I am also grateful to Pia Schwarz Lausten, Associate Professor at the Department of English, Germanic and Romance Studies, University of Copenhagen, for valuable input and advice prior to the commencement of my work on this article.

1 Translated into English in 2008 by Ann Goldstein with the title Clash of Civilizations over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio, Europa Editions.

2 See, for example, Burns 2001, 162. According to Burns, “to appropriate the language of the host country in order to analyse its society is a potentially subversive move.”3 Bhabha 1994. 4 Seyhan 2001.5 Among recent books on the concept of third space, see Ikas & Wagner 2009, an excellent volume of interdiscipli-

nary essays on philosophical, sociological, geographical and political aspects of Bhabha’s third space theory.6 See Quaquarelli 2010; Lausten 2010; and Parati 2005 for a description of the development of Italian migration

literature.7 Including the excellent novels Tra due mari (2002) and Il mosaico del tempo grande (2006).8 Den Koffer und weg! (1984). Abate’s second work, Die Germanesi (1984), a socioanthropological study on an Italo-

Albanian community (Carfizzi) in Calabria, was also originally written by Abate in German in collaboration with the German sociologist Meike Behrmann and then translated into Italian with the title I Germanesi in 1986.

9 Gebauer 2007, 118.10 Gebauer 2007, 114. This view is shared by Ottmar Ette, among others.11 Quaquarelli 2010, 11.12 Ibid., 12.13 Ibid., 11-12.14 In fact, Quaquarelli herself concedes this point on p. 12 of her introduction.15 See, for example, Parati 2005, 54-56. Parati originally advocated italophone literature as a term, but subsequently

rejected it precisely because it underlines native language ownership.16 Hall 1987, 44.17 Ette 2005.18 Adelson 2005, 8.19 See Lausten 2010 for a discussion of these issues.20 Gangbo has since moved to London. The continuous migratory movements by many of these writers are another

reason why postmigration may be an inadequate term.21 King et al. 1995, ix-xiv.22 See Ette 2005.23 Adelson 2005, 11-13.24 Comberiati 2010, 166.25 For reasons of space, this is admittedly a very rough and generalised distinction between three such complex con-

cepts.26 Welsch 1999. This highly influential article first appeared in California Sociologist 17 & 18 (1994/1995), 19-39.27 Welsch 1999.28 Ibid., 194.29 Lakhous 2006, 158.30 See Lausten 2010, 109 for a further discussion of this aspect of the novel.31 Lakhous 2006, 168.32 For a very interesting essay on the differences between the Arabic version and the Italian version and on the differ-

ent receptions of the novel by Arabian and Italian critics, see Negro 2006.33 From an interview with Amara Lakhous by Guido Caldiron in Liberazione, 13.10.2010, in connection with the pub-

lication of Lakhous’ latest novel Divorzio all’islamica in viale Marconi (2010). See also Negro 2006, 5-7 for examples of contaminations between Arabic and Italian in Scontro di civiltà.

34 Lakhous 2006, 157.35 The protagonist of Lakhous’ novel Divorzio all’islamica a viale Marconi, Christian Mazzari, a young Sicilian who has to

pose as an Arab as part of an undercover operation, is engaged in a similar struggle with a dual identity. 36 Quaquarelli 2010, 43-58.37 Ibid., 45-46.38 For details on the various prejudices and misunderstandings that characterise the residents’ views of each other,

NOTES

144 Peter Dyrby

see Lausten 2010.39 See Lausten 2010, 107 and Negro 2006, 2.40 Negro 2006, 2.41 See Huntington 1996. Huntington’s book is an expanded version of his influential article The Clash of Civilizations?

from 1993. Lakhous’ intertextual use of Huntington’s conflict model will be discussed below.42 Quaquarelli 2010, 57.43 Lakhous 2006, 36, 185.44 Another reference to the importance of the wolf in Roman mythology.45 Possibly a reference to Zeno’s “ultima sigaretta” in Italo Svevo’s La coscienza di Zeno (1923) as a way of highlighting

Ahmed/Amedeo’s obsessiveness, which, although the two characters are highly different, mirrors that of Zeno.46 Lakhous 2006, 156.47 Ibid., 142.48 Adelson 2005, 3.49 Ibid., 3-4.50 Ibid., 6.51 Bhabha 1994.52 See Mauceri & Negro 2009 for an account of how the stranger is treated in works by migrant writers living in Italy

and by native Italian writers.53 Mauceri & Negro 2009, 145.54 For an in-depth account of the Italian debate on postmodern literature, see Ceserani 1997 and Jansen 2002.55 See Burns 2001; Lausten & Verstraete-Hansen 2007; and Antonello & Mussgnug 2010. See, moreover, Dyrby 2010 for

a discussion of postmodern impegno based on an analysis of the utopian theme in Italo Calvino’s Le città invisibili (1972).56 For an early discussion of this matter, see Burns 2001, 159-179.57 The ban was triggered by an attempted robbery committed by a group of young bourgeois milanesi. During the trial,

they admitted to having conceived the idea for the heist from a giallo published by Mondadori and to being eager readers of crime fiction! This prompted a personal intervention by Mussolini, who had the giallo genre banned via the Italian Ministry of Culture. For an account of the fascinating history of the Italian giallo and the gradual restric-tions imposed on the genre by the Fascist regime, see, for example, Rambelli 1979 and Pistelli 2006.

58 Fracassa 2009.59 Fracassa 2010.60 Ibid., 180-181.61 Fracassa 2010, 181.62 Ibid., 184-185.63 See Bonanni 2006.64 See, moreover, the discussion below.65 See Negro 2006, 5.66 See Ambrosi 2006.67 Bonanni 2006.68 Fracassa 2009. 69 Venere privata (1966), Traditori di tutti (1966), I ragazzi del massacro (1968) and I milanesi ammazzano al sabato (1969). 70 For an interesting analysis of postmodern Italian and American crime fiction, see Tani 1984.71 This reference is also mentioned in Fracassa 2009.72 Ibid., 119, 125.73 Ibid., 123.74 See Fracassa 2009 for a discussion of the two works in terms of polyphony/non-polyphony. Fracassa rightly re-

gards Gadda’s novel as polyphonic with a capital P and Lakhous’ novel as essentially non-polyphonic.75 Kristeva 1967.76 Even the cover flap of the book contains references to Gadda: ...“una sapiente e irresistibile miscela di satira di

costume e romanzo giallo imperniata su una scoppiettante polifonia dialettale di gaddiana memoria (il Pasticciaccio sta sullo sfondo segreto della scena come un nume tutelare).”

77 Lodoli 2006.78 Lakhous 2006, 186.79 Ibid., 187.80 Western, Latin-American, Islamic, Sinic (Chinese), Hindu, Orthodox, Japanese and African.81 See Huntington 1996.82 Lakhous 2006, 74.83 Lakhous 2006, 60.84 See also the above discussion of the truth as a theme in the novel.85 Lakhous 2006, 185.86 Lakhous 2006, 119.87 See also Lausten 2010, 108-109.88 Lakhous 2006, 118.89 The similarity between the two titles underlines this.90 Tawfik 1999.91 De Carlo 2010.