Prior to the establishment of the municipal library in the early 80s of the past century, Fabrica di Roma, there was a library of elementary schools, carrying on a loan without reading for users of the school . In other larger municipalities, or better organized, such as in Civita Castellana, the library of a primary school place funzione di prestito per tutti i cittadini. Non ricordo esattamente l’anno, ma doveva essere il 1968 o ’69 quando anche a Fabrica la biblioteca scolastica fu aperta ad una pubblica consultazione e prestito. La gestivano a turno, per pochi giorni a settimana, i maestri Giovanni Cencelli e Romolo Malatesta. Avevano sistemato i libri in una apposita aula a pianterreno, alcuni in vecchi armadi, altri disposti sopra alcune cattedre in disuso. Ricordo una discreta affluenza di pubblico, studenti ed impiegati, ed anche qualche attempato contadino che, con una certa goffaggine e timidezza, chiedeva di saperne di più su quegli scrittori di cui aveva imparato a memoria alcune poesie nella sua lontana età scolastica.
Presi a frequentare la biblioteca more curiosity than passion for the study. It was an alternative to the chaos of the parish hall, the little shop where the barber's getting into it to steal the speeches of the great, the cafes where we regularly kicked only if they saw a kid stay between the tables. If you could spend your summer days wandering through the countryside, on cold winter days that we could not just forced us to sit on the books of compulsory education, library, paradoxically, became a reference point for all disciplines unruly school. It was in that large, cold and dimly lit room, I started my apprenticeship as a tireless reader.
John Masters Romulus and advised to all the book Fontamara "Ignazio Silone, as was a revolutionary text and a new gospel. The Master John was silent and discreet, as suddenly nervous, and I loved to teach themselves more to the campaign, while the master Romulus, who was also renowned as an artist, he let go and intellectual discussions with convulsive users the most learned. Among them was a young man of about twenty years, Sergio Bassi, who had the upholsterer's shop downstairs, in Alberto Cencelli. At that time read many books, played the trumpet in the band hall and meditating a clerical work. Boys joked and talked with us all happy. In every season shook his afternoon silence with his long and stubborn musical phrasing, invading every region of the country, especially street dell'Ariola, where I lived then, entering through a window of the process.
Masters conductors of the library - which is not my teachers were - when I asked for something to read, gave me a book that appealed to all children between eleven and thirteen years, my age back then, "History of Pepin, was born old and dead child. " It was a funny thing, a long joke, a joke that did not interest me. I wanted to read "Fontamara," a book for adults, not the usual reassuring fairy tales. When some time After I managed to read "Fontamara" I said to myself, "here, this book is how to tell my country at the time of my parents, my grandparents." In those humiliated and offended people from poverty and subjugation gave the face of some villagers, elderly farmers, who, with an expression between the tarp and the Bolsheviks, marched through the festival of May 1. In the meantime I had read two or three other books, of which I lost memory. I remember one, however, including title and author's name escapes me - perhaps a kind of diary of a scholar who never had known - that it seemed as true as "Fontamara" because of partisan warfare in the stories I could tell the overlap My real father at home when narrating the events of World War II who had participated.
not remember exactly whether my experience as a player was voluntarily discontinued for a few more passing interest or because of supervening suppression of public service, which inevitably occurred two or three years later. That my initiation into the adult I remember reading with great interest "Attention" by Alberto Moravia and two books Vitaliano Brancati, "Don Giovanni in Sicilia" and "Paul the heat." Moravia's book I hatched for the first time the complicated psyche of adults who had an inner life. Especially "Don Giovanni in Sicilia" encouraged me to think closely and no solution to the inner conflict of a young man torn between love and instinct ideal sensual. I have not re-read these three books, and if I have to tell the truth, "Paul the heat," I have a vague memory, I have not even seen the film with Lando Buzzanca, and I think it was some kind of further development and more paradoxical theme of Don Giovanni in Sicilia.
When the library closed Return to stroll in the countryside and the country as we did since we acquired the right to go out alone, keeping well away from the boring books and heavy school compulsory. He had to spend even a decade before the city council decided to open a chapter of expenditure the establishment of a permanent public library. At that juncture long as my relationship with books institutional and school authorities escalated further, I opened the curtain of poetry, an alternative form of conformism youthful. (Picture of school in the late '50s)
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