Catherine has a bakery. And she has an average boyfriend, average girlfriends, and an average life. She is, in short, serenely desperate, part of the great river of the dissatisfied that every day, from all over the world, receives millions of tributaries. Then a voice speaks to her from the radio, seems to address only her, and says beautiful things that are like an earthquake. Gradually a feeling arises that bears an uncanny resemblance to love, “that tragic and suave state in which we can sigh before a driveway.”
Sacher, Mimosas, Millefoglie, Charlotte…
Catherine’s bakery sweetens the sorrows of many with its majestic sugar cathedrals. But the first one who would need sweetness is herself, Caterina, who is lonely even though her love life is “as clogged as a coast road in August.” Giancarlo, the boyfriend, is a police commissioner who does not know how to set her heart on fire, her friends rarely remember her, and Vittorio, her brother, has a singular talent for getting himself, and her, into trouble. Until one day Caterina finds in the backroom of the store a radio, “a model from the 1970s, an orange cube complete with antenna.” The first miracle is that after all those years it still works. The second is that the voice speaking from in there speaks to her, to her and no one else. And it says things that little by little win her over, turning her life upside down. Marco Presta tells us from his side, through comic but high, controlled writing, the story of a young woman who finds, literally, love in the air. And page after page he casts a spell within the reach of those whose imagination is at the height of their hearts.
Some people find love in the air.
Making us laugh on every page, with the intelligence and irony we appreciate every day on the radio, Marco Presta once again wins us over with the power of his writing.