Davide Coppo, on the wrong side: The ambiguity in inheritance

By Colleen Guérinet

It is not a spectacular novel. Therefore, No crash, no flamboyant hero. Consequently, And yet, Bad side De Davide Coppo stays in the lead. Moreover, He leaves a troubled, fine, persistent imprint; As a badly asked question or a look that we cannot forget.

We follow a young man, anchored in a very contemporary Italian reality. Consequently, A banal life, almost ordinary, and yet something intrigues. Therefore, Writing, first: precise, tense, as if it were groping groped, but never getting lost. Moreover, Then the protagonist: he fascinates us as much as he worries us. Moreover, You never know if he will capsize or get up. Additionally, Moreover, He has this mixture of lucidity. passivity, contained anger and deaf melancholy, davide coppo, wrong side: ambiguity which makes his gestures unpredictable – and deeply human.

The novel explores this gray area that we often prefer to ignore. He does not excuse anything. does not seek to explain by great theories; He simply shows this slow, imperceptible shift, towards something else. A fatigue of the world. poorly healed loneliness, frustrations that accumulate, and we find ourselves facing a boy who we look at first from afar, then a little closer, until, sometimes wondering if, sometimes, we unfortunately do not resemble him a little.

This shift towards “something else”, precisely, is not trivial. It is not a simple melancholy. a wave disenchantment: it is a troubled movement towards an ideology which, it is not. Fascism. hidden hatred, resentment: the author never justifies them, but he puts us in front of their power of attraction when nothing seems to make sense. This gives chills. Because we understand the journey, davide coppo, wrong side: ambiguity without ever being able to excuse it. And that this proximity worries as much as it revolts.

It is neither a manifesto nor a social chronicle, but there is all this. A look at a lost generation. on tiny destinies, on what you become when everything seems too slow, too vague, too unfair. This discomfort, Davide Coppo makes it feel impressive, without ever forcing the line.

The end does not decide anything. She does not judge, does not reassure either. She leaves an opening, a breath, a doubt. The reader ends the book a little worried, a little changed too. Because it is a novel that confronts us that we are able to tolerate – among others. but especially in us. And at this border, so fine, so fragile, which can one day tip us on the wrong side.