This is a book that will speak to many readers, though it must be said that its meticulous detail makes certain passages heavy going, and the author's mindset feels, in some ways, rather distant from our own.
At the heart of the book is Paolo, the author's second son, who at four years old is diagnosed as subnormal and epileptic. From that moment on, he leads his mother—almost by the hand—into the world of "the others," the subnormal. It is the mother who writes, acts, fights, and labors. But it is Paolo who lights up every page with his cheerful smile and fair hair.
Where does a child like Paolo go to nursery school? Where does he go to school? Who is entrusted with his care, and how is he educated? In what environments is he received? The author does not merely interrogate herself, nor does she stop at those closest to her or those responsible. Confronted by the absence of services and the staggering failures of a society that seems blind to fundamental human needs, she commits herself entirely to finding and implementing real, serious solutions to the problem of educating and socializing subnormal young people.
But it is a heavy burden, one that grows harder with each confrontation with bureaucratic obstacles and petty—and not so petty—self-interest. The story, which quickly becomes a socio-political investigation, strips bare a reality that extends far beyond Turin and Ivrea, where it unfolds, but is common to our whole country: the existence of a long list of organizations and associations that claim to serve people's most vital needs but end up serving only themselves.
The mother's energy and persistence are not for Paolo alone. Standing beside him are other figures—children, teenagers, adults—whom the author shows equal respect for. It is this love, serious and attentive, that forms the most precious part of the book, and what may make it valued even by those who cannot embrace every page, every reflection it contains.