Lepri: There is no ordinary life.

In literature Roberte Lepri There are no ordinary lives, just as there are no simple answers. Her heroines and heroes often find themselves in places they did not want to be, faced with losses, family wounds, unforeseen twists and their own memories. Yet it is precisely in these cracks of everyday life, in what is painful, imperfect and seemingly small, that the Italian writer finds space for humor, tenderness and the possibility of transformation.

Roberta Lepri, born in Citta di Castel, raised in the Maremma, and now living in Grosseto, has published several novels and a collection of short stories since 2003. Her literary interests range from contemporary prose, art history, family relationships, and those unusual, often invisible places in human experience from which great stories emerge. She studied Italian literature and dedicated her thesis to Michelangelo, which opened up one of her lasting literary paths - the exploration of art, artists, and what lies behind perfection.

In the novel “Così celeste”, published this year, the return to the family home becomes a return to a space of repressed memories and ancient injuries. After the news of the nuclear attack on Warsaw, the protagonist, isolated from the world and cut off from modern technologies, confronts nature, loneliness and her own past. A place that was once a place of humiliation becomes, paradoxically, a place of survival and possible healing. In this novel, the landscape is not just a backdrop: it remembers, presses, threatens, but also offers the possibility of a new beginning. The title itself, “Così celeste”, raises the question of whether the beauty of the world is a refuge, irony or perhaps just a perspective that changes after a person survives what he believed he could not.

These questions naturally connect to themes that run through Lepri's entire oeuvre: family as the first place of belonging, but also the first place from which we sometimes have to distance ourselves; love and loss; food as a form of memory and relationship; humor as a way to survive one's own fragility; as well as literature that extracts the profound and universal from seemingly ordinary lives.

Montenegrin audiences will have the opportunity to meet Lepri at this year's Trg od knjige festival in Herceg Novi, where her novel "Friday for Love" will be presented on July 24, published by Clio Publishing House. It is a translation of the novel "Hai presente Liam Neeson?", which she translated into Serbian. Ana MarkovićIn addition to the author, the translator, as well as the editor and publisher, will also participate in the conversation. Zoran Hamovic.

Ahead of the meeting with readers, Roberta Lepri talks to “Vijesti” about how the novel begins: from a single image, a question or an inner turmoil, but also how its characters, spaces and the author herself change during the writing process. About the title “Così celeste”, about returning to places that hurt us, about female characters whose vulnerability never excludes strength, about the landscape as an active participant in the story and about the balance between the lyrical beauty of language and the raw authenticity of human experience. We also talked about where this latest novel takes its place in her literary oeuvre, as a continuation of her enduring themes or as a step in a new artistic direction.

How do you experience the moment when your book begins to live in another language? Does translation bring new life to a novel?

It is an exciting experience - sometimes almost intoxicating, sometimes terrifying. It is a bit like when a child goes to work in a distant country: he will have to face challenges and change habits, but, if he is capable, he will find a way to leave his mark in the new environment. Translation, without a doubt, gives a novel new life. A translator must know many worlds well: first of all, the world of the writer whose work he is translating, but also the contemporary reality in which he lives. At the same time, he must deeply understand the culture of the country in which the work will be accepted, as well as the sensibilities of its readers. The translator's job is magnificent: he rewrites the work, remaining faithful to it, and establishes a deep connection with the psychology of the author. And if he invests his whole self in that work, the reader will feel it. I consider myself lucky; I believe that my translator Ana Marković possesses exactly that kind of sensibility.

The title of your novel “Hai presente Liam Neeson” immediately catches the eye. How did the idea come about and why did Liam Neeson become a kind of symbol of the story?

In the novel, the protagonist Rita loses part of her memory after a car accident. She remembers practically everything from her life before the accident, except for the man she loved, the one who left her just the day before the accident. She cannot remember him, but she feels a deep emptiness and tries to fill his face with it.

She investigates, but no one knows who he is, not even his name. Since their relationship was a secret, she hid it from everyone, even her sister. Finally, a friend who owns a bookstore mentions that she saw her with him many years ago. Rita asks for a description: what was he like: tall? blond? And her friend sums it up in a single sentence: “Do you know Liam Neeson?”

This actor became a symbol of the story because, in my opinion, he embodies a certain kind of man: strong, mysterious, and a bit inscrutable. Someone who is not easily forgotten.

Your novels are often dedicated to ordinary people and their everyday lives. What attracts you so much to these small, seemingly unremarkable stories that are, in fact, stories about all of us?

There is no ordinary life. All you need is the desire to meet people and the ability to tell their stories. We all had grandparents who struggled, in one way or another. My family was made up of very humble people, but I believe that each of them led a life worth telling. In the lives that seemingly pass by without leaving a trace, there is enough love, pain, and struggle to fill an entire lifetime of writing. And then there are human reactions. Why do people react differently to the same events? What shaped their character? Why do some give up immediately, while others never give up? How important is the experience of those who lived before us? What did they leave us?

Readers often say that they recognize themselves or people they know in your books. How do your characters come about? Do you start with real people or do they become completely independent during the writing process?

If readers recognize themselves in the story, then I have done my job well and that makes me happy. My characters come into being in different ways. Sometimes I am inspired by real people, but then I give them traits that they don't actually have. Other times I invent them from scratch. The most important thing for me is the difficult situation in which I place my protagonists. What happens if a woman forgets her lover, but continues to long for him? What happens if a young chef, who has subordinated everything to ambition, has to quit his job and return to the island where the family story began? And what if an act of charity turns into a grand illusion and instead of gratitude produces resentment?

How does a writer react when he finds himself trapped in a place he despises, far from everything, without any comforts, not even food or clothing? It all comes down to putting them to the test. To the question: “What if...?” Because that's exactly what life does: throws us off balance and forces us to react anew.

In your books, humor and sadness almost always go hand in hand. Do you believe that humor can lighten the story of life's most difficult experiences?

Yes, humor saves us, especially from ourselves, from our own little worlds, and from the suffering we believe is ours alone. This is especially true for us writers. When you write a story that you thought was unique, and then so many readers tell you that the same thing happened to them, only they couldn't find the right words to describe it, and they thank you for finding them - you have to smile.

We are neither unique nor special. Almost all of us have been hurt, we have been through painful loves and difficult families, and yet we are here. Isn't it wonderful to laugh at ourselves and our own human frailty from time to time?

Family relationships occupy an important place in your writing. What keeps you coming back to this topic?

In Italy, family and its contradictions are a frequent theme in literature. The novel “L'anniversario” Đulija Bajanija, which won the “Strega” award last year, is a great example of this.

There is a huge gap between the collective ideal of a perfect, caring family in which children are raised with tenderness and the reality experienced by the vast majority: families that raise deeply frustrated individuals, people who are almost never truly understood.

In an interview, I stated that family is often the first inhospitable place we live in. I wanted to point out that a new person can find themselves among parents and siblings who are very different from them, which inevitably creates an environment that is not easy to navigate. Of course, this statement of mine was heavily criticized, and by people who knew perfectly well how true it was.

The novel “Dna Chef” brings together issues of identity, family and food. In this book, food is not just a culinary motif. What does it allow you to discover about people?

Food is one of my greatest loves. And I believe it is true: we are what we eat. Food reflects our surroundings, the time we dedicate to human relationships, and the spirit we put into its preparation, whether it is love or indifference, calmness or haste, kindness or selfishness. That is why food reveals so much. Throughout history, important things have been discussed at the table, relationships have ended, loves have begun, and alliances have been formed. We speak well or badly of those who are not present.

It is no coincidence that Jesus' first miracle occurred at a feast, and his last act in the company of the apostles was a dinner. And as she once said Elsa Morante, who knew hunger caused by war, the most beautiful expression of love is: "Have you eaten?"

You studied literature and studied Michelangelo. To what extent have art and art history shaped you as a writer?

I graduated in Italian philology, and the professor who supervised my thesis, Sandro Briosi, was a leading expert on poetry Michelangelo Buonarroti. Of course, it is impossible to seriously approach the study of this author without delving into his life as a sculptor and painter, as well as his biography as a whole. Michelangelo lived in the Renaissance, at the same time as Leonardo da Vinci; he grew up at court Lawrence the Magnificent and knew and Savonarola i Botticelli. It was a dizzying but lonely life. He was the highest paid artist of his time, and he lived like a pauper. That's the essence - with him, as with every personality and every human being: a flaw, a crack in the surface. Big or small, we are all full of contradictions.

With Michelangelo, I began to study great artists. This journey led me to publish a collection of stories, each inspired by a work of art, entitled “Il volto oscuro della perfezione” (The Dark Side of Perfection), as well as a historical novel that follows the fate of a small, mysterious Mazačov painting, “The Tickling Madonna”, entitled “Le lacrime di Hitler” (Hitler's Tears).

By studying these works, we can understand all about the psychology of the artist and the development of the society around him, and perhaps even invent what is missing from the historical record. What could be more exciting to write about?

You've been writing for over twenty years. When you look back on your literary journey, what do you feel has changed in your writing, and what has remained the same from your first book to today?

I started writing as a teenager and, as often happens, I wrote poems that only I read. I have been publishing for 23 years. My first novel was called “Sulla terra a caso” and, as I described in my latest novel “Così celeste”, it appeared at a very difficult time in my life. Deep down I was like a machine that had been under pressure for years, both at work and at home. My book was the result of that situation: my act of rebellion, a way to turn a new page.

Looking back, I feel a mixture of pride and tenderness. I have always seen myself as a writer, even though I had to work another job to make a living.

What's left? I'll quote my latest novel: "Even in a world that was coming to an end, my desire to tell stories did not die."

Your style is very concise, yet deeply emotional. What is your writing process like? Do you rewrite a lot or do you carry a story inside you for a long time before putting it on paper?

Thank you for describing my style that way - that's a big compliment! Sometimes I carry a story inside me for a long time and live it. That means I never stop thinking about it, not even while I'm working or sleeping. I think about my characters while I'm driving, cooking or even talking to other people.

Even before I actually start writing, I do research: I read essays about the historical period I want to explore, texts on psychology, and even newspaper reports.

Years can pass between the moment I first conceive an idea, there always has to be a very strong concept behind it, and the moment I start writing. In other cases, however, there is a sense of urgency. This was the case with my latest novel, which I wrote in three months.

What brings you the greatest joy when you meet your readers? Do they ever surprise you with their interpretations of your books?

What makes me happiest is the thought of them dedicating their time to me. I can be with them at night, before they fall asleep, or in the mountains, or on a train. And all because they chose me. They let me into their thoughts, they create a film using my words, they feel what I felt, or maybe something else entirely. They follow a different path, they decide to love a character I can't stand and to hate my hero.

The important thing is that they don't remain indifferent. It is precisely from this act of appropriation that surprising interpretations arise. One of my older novels ends with the protagonist swimming in the sea at night, and many readers assumed that she had committed suicide. They were not convinced even when I told them that this was not the case.

We live in an age of short forms and fast information. How do you see the place of the novel today? Do you believe that literature still has the power to change the way we see other people?

Literature finds ever new forms and adapts to the media that progress makes available to it, and yet it persists. The Odyssey was an oral poem, yet it has survived millennia and is available today in print and as an e-book, not to mention its film adaptations. Moreover, as late as the 1930s, fiddlers in the Balkan mountains were still singing their epic songs as they were originally composed.

Yes, literature survives through transformation and continues to shape the way we see the world.

This will be your first meeting with the audience in Herceg Novi. What do you especially look forward to when visiting a city or country you are discovering for the first time?

I am a careful and silent observer and, when I visit new countries, my first goal is to understand the traditions and character of the people who live there. Everything fascinates me: the food, the landscapes, the architecture of the houses. I know that the gatherings in Herceg Novi are very interesting and well attended; I am looking forward to meeting the audience with great impatience and I am grateful to Clio and my publisher Zoran Hamović for this kind invitation.

So Heavenly: About Returning to Yourself, Memory, and Peace

The title "Così celeste" (So heavenly/So blue) carries with it a beautiful, extremely poetic association. Does it reflect the search for inner peace of your characters, the specific atmosphere of the setting in which the action takes place, or perhaps it also carries a dose of subtle irony towards how we idealize our own lives?

“Cosi celeste” arises from the thoughts of the novel’s protagonist – a sixty-year-old writer trapped in a place she despises. As she contemplates our planet and how it looks from space, she decides that this should be its name, given that it is mostly made of water. This thought is certainly connected to the sense of peace that she eventually manages to regain in relation to her surroundings – the country villa where she was deeply unhappy in her youth.

Every novel begins with a specific spark, an image that never fades, a sentence or question that haunts the author. What was the primary creative impulse that prompted you to write this particular story?

My latest novel is partly autobiographical. The spark that started the writing was the approach of my sixtieth birthday, a horizon that was getting closer and closer, accompanied by a feeling of the end of life and the end of the world. So I imagined my alter ego facing events that were extremely difficult to overcome, bringing her to the limits of her strength, while she is caught between the memories of a painful past and a present in which, seemingly, there is nothing left to fight for.

Your protagonists are often characterized by a complex balance between vulnerability and deep inner strength. Without revealing too many details to readers who have yet to discover the book, how did you approach building the main character's emotional journey?

The protagonist's emotional journey unfolds across two parallel planes: the past and the present. She experienced a difficult youth, growing up in a family that failed to understand her and even actively hindered her from achieving her goals related to education and writing. In order to survive, she learned to bend, without ever truly giving up. In the present, she is left with a deep sense of emptiness and the bitterness of memories that refuse to fade. Yet, it is precisely at her lowest point that she recognizes her attachment to life and manages to regain her composure.

In Italian literature, space and landscape are rarely just neutral, static backdrops; they often act as active participants in the narrative. How does the setting in this novel reflect or influence the inner states of your characters?

In this case, the landscape really does play a fundamental role. The old mansion to which the protagonist must return, and above all the swimming pool that was the subject of arguments between her and her mother, in a sense act as characters in their own right. This is a novel full of life and death, nature and animals, as well as the urge to survive in a hostile environment. Yet life often resurfaces precisely in the places where we least expect it, starting with ourselves and our own thoughts.

Critics often praise your style for its elegant, almost lyrical expression, combined with a sharp, realistic observation of life. How do you manage to reconcile the aesthetic beauty of language with the raw authenticity of the human experiences you portray?

I believe that aesthetic beauty is primarily a question of rhythm, which is inherent in the thing itself. And life, even in its rawness, has a strong rhythm. Of course, every literary situation requires an appropriate language; however, as a writer, I really enjoy being recognized by my recognizable voice, while at the same time I believe that one should avoid a style that seeks to influence the reader only in order to please him. It is a question of integrity and I am sure that a good reader can recognize this.

If you look at your literary journey as a whole, how do you feel "Così celeste" fits into your oeuvre? Do you see it as a natural continuation of your previous themes or as a conscious artistic and stylistic step in a new direction?

My latest novel once again deals with certain themes that are close to my heart, such as the loneliness of an individual within a family or difficulties in the workplace. However, I would say that it takes some of these problems to extremes in order to resolve them - take, for example, the loneliness that comes with old age. In that sense, this novel represents a step forward for me, because it is the first time that I have introduced explicitly autobiographical elements into my writing.