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Accabadora lingers long

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Accabadora, Michela Murgia (translated by Silvester Mazzarella)
MacLehose Press
£12.00; (€14) E-book, £6.27

MACLEHOSE Press, a publishing house devoted to uncovering unique and generally overlooked foreign voices for the English language market, have hit aces yet again with this delicate gem. Accabadora is Italian writer Michela Murgia’s third novel, but her first to receive an English translation.

Acclaim for the book has already been effusive in her native land, earning six major literary prizes and achieving runaway best-seller status. It is not difficult to see why.

Bonaria Urrai is the Accabadora of the title, a midwife to the dying, her job to ease the departure of those who suffer a prolonged end. It is a sacred duty, acknowledged by all in this particular Sardinian village, though one rarely spoken of or publicly acknowledged.

Descended from a renowned local family, and therefore financially comfortable, Bonaria nevertheless elects to pass her days by plying the trade of seamstress.

She is a lonely, childless woman, left widowed by the Great War, and it is this loneliness which prompts her to adopt a young child, Maria, into her life. Maria is the fourth daughter of a poor village widow, and the adoption seems the most suitable arrangement for everyone. So she becomes a soul-child, born to one mother, raised by another.

In many ways it is a good life. Bonaria is a considerate and devoted mother. Her real work is protected by a veil of secrecy, impeding only with occasional late-night disappearances that fuel Maria’s suspicions but which can be explained away or overlooked.

But then a neighbouring young man, the brother of Maria’s closest friend, is shot while perpetrating an act of vengeance and loses both his leg and his will to live.

The ensuing shockwaves and revelations prove too much for Maria to bear and she flees the island for a new life as a nanny to some wealthy children in Turin. But it is merely a temporary reprieve for a soul still duty-bound to older ways.

With Accabadora, Signorina Murgia has penned a powerful and at times genuinely spellbinding piece of work.

Over barely 200 pages, and set against a vivid rural backdrop, she explores such serious themes as euthanasia, child abuse, familial and romantic love, loyalty and forgiveness, the grief and release of death, and the many, many shades of morality.

The result is a truly admirable achievement: compact and elegant, rich in atmosphere, with fully developed characters that resonate at a deeply emotional level. Once it takes a full grip, this is a story that refuses to yield. It is also one which will linger a long while after the final page has been turned.





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