I fought with Gadda, and Gadda won...

I'll admit it, I think we kicked the club off with a tough mountain to climb. A more gentle introduction might have been better. But I am hard-headed enough to rarely give up on a book I have sacrificed the time and energy to start.

That Awful Mess, for me, induced lengthy spells of feeling that I was reading it because I felt I ought to - rather than for actual enjoyment. Accessible, straightforward and action-packed, it is not. Its rhythms and subtleties often escaped me.

Part of this, I reckon, was down to the translation which had a dated or clunky feel. However, I think it's only fair to say anyone would have struggled with Gadda's prose. His playfulness with words in Italian is desperately difficult for anyone to wrestle with.

Maybe I should have got a copy in its original language but I'm not sure I would have been a lot more enthused. As both Mauro and Adam have pointed out, we really started the Giallo Club with a book which was essentially not a Giallo. It often felt more like a literary exercise colliding with social commentary. There were some lovely nuggets in there but, to me, no more than that.

What I enjoyed most was the insight into the machinations of life in Rome under the Fascist regime. There were some observational gems in there (my personal favourite when one of the characters exclaims: "Tuscans! They're a bunch of stinkers too..."). But overall, my ultimate feeling was one of relief rather than satisfaction when I turned the final page.

More from the Merulana

Adamo (@adz77) is the next man to make it to the end of That Awful Mess. Here are his thoughts on our tricky appetiser...

Ok, so, writing a book review is something I haven't done in about twenty years and I had absolutely no idea where to start. However, I shall endeavour to share my thoughts, for what they are worth on a book I probably wouldn't have selected myself, but love the idea of this club (being something of a self-confessed geek being in a book club seems very apt, no?).

I picked up a translated copy of the book and have to say, after about eight or nine pages I tossed it aside thinking 'I'll see what they choose next, it's not for me'.

Then Mauro's review of the Italian version was posted and I thought I'd give it another go, struggled some more before biting the bullet and picking up an original version and can only recommend if you can then do the same.

Suddenly a book that came across as pretentious and obtuse revealed itself to be a wonderfully layered and crafted novel, its characters as rich as the language Gadda uses to describe them to use. Not only this but, considering the date of its original publication, it is laced with an incredibly brave attack on fascism and a superb portrait of Rome as the author saw it.