Federica Cabras's, "Finchè morte ci separi"

The squaring the the circle. Or rather: how to make Federica Cabras’s two souls coincide, the one who writes sparkling chick-lit full of effervescent exchanges, jokes, spicy scenes, heartbeat and romanticism, with the other soul, the dark, mortuary, horror one. Simply by creating the successful character of Lucrezia Muscas, in “Until Death Do Us Part”, a sweet, introverted, dreamy girl, unconsciously searching for her place in the world and her soulmate. Lucrezia is a beautician by profession. Yes, but for the dead. Lucrezia is a thanato-beautician, she puts makeup on deceased people to make them presentable during funerals, to give that impression of “asleep” rather than rotten, to tame death as heartbroken relatives impose. She loves her job, she has always been fascinated by passing away. The deceased do not judge, do not mock, do not even interrupt. She talks to the dead, tells them about her misadventures, her simple life, her hidden desires.

Among them is Sebastiano, her boss’s brother, who is the opposite of her: extroverted, sexy, brilliant, a womanizer and a bit of a layabout. Opposites attract, as we know. He teases her, presses her, sharpening in her that sense of always being the fish out of water, the “weird one”, everywhere. He calls her Morty, like Mortisia, or Decessa, because she is dark, she likes skeletons and vampires, she always dresses in black, she dares to wear funereal accessories and ornaments. She does it for fun, to exorcise the fear that we all unconsciously feel, but also because death hasn’t really touched her yet. When it happens, when a loved one dies, she realizes that closing her eyes forever isn’t all that exciting.

This, which is in all respects a romantic comedy, however offers several points of reading and study. First of all the difficulty of becoming oneself, despite the disapproval of others, despite the fact that it is more comfortable to conform and stereotype. Lucrezia grows up, accepts herself for who she is, fights to get the job she loves and the man she dreams of. She also becomes aware that she is not alone in the world, that she has people around her who love her, who appreciate her, who support her in difficult moments.

Secondly, the controversial relationship with death, often a frightening and macabre taboo in our Western society, is striking. Lucrezia plays with it, talks to it, adorns herself with it and surrounds herself with it, but, faced with pain, the real one, she must still surrender. Because pain should not be removed, but rather endured. Above all because those who leave never reappear. Never again. And we must rebuild the meaning of life around an absence.

The author’s wise pen churns out, as always, witty reflections, spicy or irreverent moments, lightning-fast jokes, epigraphs. In the wake of successful series like “Wednesday”, don’t miss this new character, this blonde Wednesday with a tormented, solitary and, let’s face it, a little decadent soul. Unmissable.