Pennac and Safran Foer: having nothing to say about the world, yet saying it in support of the intellectual class

One might be tempted to think – without being nostalgic – that writers-prophets, those who dispense ideas to the people, are a thing of the past. The mould of Tolstoy and even Émile Zola has been lost; in Italy, fortunately, that of PPP too. It is therefore legitimate to ask why, in the present day, we should listen to a writer who, instead of writing, speaks—and why we should interview him, allowing him to express opinions that are often disjointed yet invariably aligned with the adoring, reflective middle class (CMR), the only group that not only reads contemporary authors but also their interviews. They often offer banalities that even the Cmr could be spared, since being a writer and being a sharp analyst are not always one and the same. Take Pennac and Jonathan Safran Foer, for instance.

Take Daniel Pennac, for example. He wrote a brilliant book forty years ago, then discovered he was a ‘pedagogue’ (in his own words) of the book world and went on to bore readers with some twenty novels that were mere carbon copies. Now that he has a new book coming out, the launch event in Mantua is unlikely to be skipped. And there is naturally an opportunity to hear his views on the state of the world, ‘with his usual civilised air’. La Repubblica asks him to account for “what is happening in Europe today, where the radical right is winning over more and more voters. From the rise of the AfD in Saxony (Anhalt, ed.) to the advance of the Rassemblement National in France”. Woe betide anyone who asks a Frenchman whether he is also concerned about the exponential growth of radical Islam and anti-Semitism. Does it surprise her, they ask? “Why should it?”. After all, Pennac knows more or less as much as anyone else: “Exactly what happened previously in the United States is happening in Europe, where power is in the hands of a death clown, a murderer”. They ask him whether Putin might also be to blame, and whether Europe can stem the tide. He cautiously places the blame on Europe, which comes first: “Look, the die is cast. Do you think Europe can be considered a model? What is ‘gentle’ Europe doing? I’ll tell you: it’s letting Africa drown at sea.” A question about Ceuta would have been spot on, but they are careful to avoid it. The Cmr has served its purpose, in Mantua.

In Il Corriere, meanwhile, they are interviewing Jonathan Safran Foer. The year before 11 September, he had written a brilliant book set in Ukraine. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is also a poignant work – the first novel to address that event. But even the insight of prophets has an expiry date. They ask him how the world is faring twenty-five years on. Not even Dumas would know what to say. “We are facing a sort of disintegration of civilisation. We have lost the ability to empathise with others.” One might think of Pope Prevest. Could it also be Mohamed Atta’s fault? Not a chance: it’s Amazon’s fault (I swear). “I’m thinking of technological changes, the way Amazon is emptying cities… It might seem to have nothing to do with 11 September.” ‘Exactly,’ Verdone would say. ‘It’s a mistake to view 11 September merely as a clash between the world of radical Islam and the West.’ ‘In what sense?’ Verdone would ask. The writer, running out of prophecies and ideas alike, has had his say.