I have read one previous Michael Dibdin book featuring his series character Aurelio Zen. This was A LONG FINISH, a delightful and delectable mystery concentrating on the wine industry, and at the same time showcasing the very flawed and fragile persona of police inspector Zen. In the most recent tale, BACK TO BOLOGNA, Zen is just recovering from a surgery and while he would prefer to stay on medical leave and nurture his paranoid hypochondria, he immediately is set to work by his new bosses.
Soccer magnate Lorenzo Curti has been found murdered in his car, shot through the head and with a Parmesan cheese knife stuck through his chest. Curti owned the Bologna franchise, and the fans were none too happy about his miserly management of the team. Zen is sent to Bologna to help the investigation (hence the title).
But the reader is privy to some subplots that Zen does not see at first. We encounter an aggravated graduate student Rodolfo Mattioli, who has been humiliated by a semiotics professor named Edgardo Ugo. I think there is no question that this is a parody of real-life author and semiotics professor Umberto Eco, though it seems awfully mean. In a similar vein, what are we to make of the singing chef Romano Rinaldi, who has his own feud with Ugo, and who is portrayed as an insecure bumbling cokehead? The physical description of Rinaldi reminds me greatly of the phenomenal Northwest TV chef Nick Stellino (and his CUCINA AMORE series) or perhaps American talk-show staple Dom DeLuise, but the character of Rinaldi is unsavory indeed. Is this just some giant in-joke with Dibdin, or am I casting movie roles in my head?
Perhaps it’s all irrelevant. Because what really shines through here is Dibdin’s depth of knowledge, his throwaway allusions, his willingness to make casual asides that add to the complexity of the story, and not just distract. An example is when we spy on the very pretentious Edgardo Ugo looking into his refrigerator and seeing “the remains of the dinner (that had been prepared) from Marinetti’s tract on Futurist cooking. As the generous quantity of leftovers indicated, the preparation had been more satisfying than the actual food, but it had all looked very striking and had been beautifully photographed for an article about the event in La Cucina Italiana – good publicity for everyone concerned.” This is a brilliant sentence. It makes two valid references, to a real magazine and to a real aspect of the Futurist artistic movement (replicating Marinetti’s recipes are not for the faint of heart). Even more so, it is exactly the type of thing that the character Edgardo Ugo would do, and the whole scene itself is an example of semiotics at work, a sign, a representation or interpretation of a meal that may or may not be able to be eaten.
Lest that all sound way too academic and dull, Dibdin also deals with more earthy matters. Zen is in the interminable process of breaking up with Gemma Santini, who is probably the best thing that ever happened to him, and there’s a nasty little private investigator named Tony Speranza who has probably watched too many bad noir movies for his own sake. When all these crazy plot points come together and overlap, the result can be exhilarating and farcical at the same time. Bizarre coincidences lead to very real consequences, and at the middle stands a somewhat unruffled Aurelio Zen.
The best thing about all of this is that Dibdin does not write down to a specified level – he lets it all flow out. If you get his references, great; if not, that’s okay, too, because you’re still going to be treated to an engaging and thoughtful mystery story. And this is such a story, complete with joky puns, outrageous behaviors and a true sense of la dolce vita. Definitely a worthwhile read. –Mark Rose
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