Culture
the interview •
Marcello Fois wins the 64th Campiello Prize with his mature novel
The Sardinian writer and the immense distraction. “Literature serves to connect, something we never do. We are a country that confuses everything, complication with complexity, but the latter is necessary.”
Credits: Campiello Prize
In recent months, Einaudi has emerged as the leading publisher in Italy. After winning the Strega Prize with Michele Mari’s I convitati di pietra, last night at the Palazzo del Cinema on the Lido di Venezia—a new venue that has replaced the Teatro La Fenice, which is closed for technological upgrades to the stage—it secured first and second place in the Campiello Prize, now in its 64th edition. First place, with 83 votes (out of 282 voters), went to Marcello Fois and his book "L’immensa distrazione", followed by Alcide Pierantozzi, who missed out on victory by three votes (having received 80) with "Lo sbilico".
Fois, having just received the ‘vera da pozzo’ – the symbol of the prize – seems keen to talk about something else, or rather, about why, in his view, a literary prize should still be concerned with a matter of civic importance. “I dedicate this prize,” he tells us, “to this country, if it is not too distracted to realise that educating oneself and reading well is a form of civilisation. The more words we have, the less we’ll be taken in by the words of others.” For him, in fact, “literature is neither an ornament nor a cultured decoration to be flaunted on award days, but a tool for finding one’s bearings. By constantly downplaying the importance of secondary education,” he adds, “the charlatans who roam the world are making us look like fools. It’s a very serious matter.”
You speak of education as a civil issue. Why?
“Because we are going through a difficult period for education, and this is, in part, something we – as parents of another generation – have allowed to happen. When I was a nominee for the Strega Prize, I met Rita Levi Montalcini. She said to the young people: ‘You are very well-informed, but poorly educated’. The parents applauded, but she told them not to, saying: ‘You are the generation that governs your children.’ It was a very direct way of reminding us of our responsibility.”
In his reasoning, responsibility also stems from genealogy: what one generation passes on to the next, what it teaches and what, on the other hand, it chooses not to teach. Is that correct?
“Yes. Anyone who works in a school knows that today’s so-called ‘genealogical mutation’ merely distorts genes. We were idiots (laughs, ed.). For me – and not just for me – literature is my salvation.”
Why?
“Literature serves to connect. The whole literary experience is an experience of connection. Unfortunately, we are unaccustomed to connection. We are a country that confuses everything, that confuses complication with complexity, but complexity is necessary. I shall say more.”
Please do.
"In a literary prize such as this, one must think in one’s own language. Terms such as ‘location’ or ‘sentiment’ need not necessarily be used; they would be out of place. Today we are here in Venice and we speak this language, which is Italian. Not that I have anything against Anglicisms, mind you, but the Campiello is an Italian literary prize. So let’s use our own language."
What does this tell us, instead, about the writer’s craft?
“Writing is an extremely difficult craft, and there is a difference between writers and those who publish. This novel has allowed me to take stock, to understand where I stand and where I am in life, and it has filled me with a deep sense of gratitude for this world.”
You described it as your ‘mature novel’: why?
“Because at a certain point in life, you realise that things fall into place. I was an actor who was perpetually a newcomer. Today, I believe I deserve to be a writer.”
(The protagonist of L’immensa distrazione is Ettore Manfredini, a man who dies and, on the morning of his death, looks back over his life and that of his family: poverty, work, economic rise, the war, the racial laws, the Holocaust, family relationships, power and guilt. It is the story of a business and, at the same time, the story of a country). “I invented the story of this man who wakes up one morning and discovers he is dead,” he explains. “His heart stops, something switches off, and his whole life begins to unfold within the novel.”
Why start with death?
“Because writing is a small taste of death. You can write about so many different things, yet nowadays we’ve become accustomed to writing only about ourselves. I, on the other hand, wanted to tell the story of a man’s life through the things that surrounded him: his family, his business and history.”
It is also a novel about a missed education.
"It is the story of a man who was once extremely poor but went on to become extremely wealthy, but also of a man who is trying to understand how education might have improved his life had he been able to access it."
He was born in Nuoro and has lived in Emilia-Romagna for years, but Sardinia is always there.
"Sardinia is in our hearts. The good fortune of being Sardinian is that you can be one anywhere. I was born two hundred metres from the home of Grazia Deledda, who remains the only Italian woman to have won the Nobel Prize for Literature, and the first to stand for political office in 1919 when women were denied the right to vote. She was a wonderful woman whom we could do with today. Perhaps we should study her and remember her at school, at least in the A-level exam papers; yet this year, on the centenary, that did not happen. Pirandello said she was too ugly to write well.”
It should be noted that we are only a moment away from revisiting the Strega controversy over the minibus to Bisceglie.
“No, for heaven’s sake (he smiles, ed.). Literature doesn’t need to be constantly turned into a row. I’m here to talk about books. Being a great person and a great writer – in Pirandello’s case, at least – didn’t necessarily go hand in hand.”
The book is dedicated to Daniela Zedda and Michela Murgia, and he also dedicated his victory to the latter.
“Daniela was one of the most extraordinary photographers this country has ever had. Michela was a beautiful woman, far from spiteful, and very resilient. She was one of the most influential intellectuals in this country. If, even today, after her death, she still causes concern and sparks debate, this should give us pause for thought.”
Returning to your book, you offer a sort of – shall we say – ‘review’, don’t you, of the protagonist’s life. Did you do this because it might help people understand that, generally speaking, such a review should actually be carried out whilst one is still alive?
“I did it because we don’t do it often enough, because the life they’ve built for us is all about crisis. That’s the problem. We can no longer say: let’s stop for a moment and take stock of the social and political issues in this country where – on at least three fundamental issues – we cannot reach an agreement. We used to be a country that developed Christian religious inspiration into secular inspiration, because people like Danilo Dolci, Moro and Berlinguer agreed on three points: food for all, education for all and healthcare for all. Today this is no longer the case; you only need to take stock to realise this.”
Is "L’immensa distrazione" also a novel about the recovery of historical memory?
“Yes, it is absolutely a novel about the importance of memory. Literature is as important as history books, because literature places people within history books. Literature tells you the name of the man who died on the battlefield at Waterloo; it tells you the names of those deported during the Holocaust – no small feat. So that’s why readers aren’t popular in this country: because readers know the names, not just the facts.”
Do you already know what you’ll do next after this victory?
“No, but what am I going to write? I’ll pull myself together now, do a month’s sleep therapy, go to bed, and then we’ll see.”
As he says goodbye, he takes off his sunglasses: “They’re a pair of Armani sunglasses from 1984; my mum gave them to me. They cost six hundred thousand lire back then, so today I thought I’d wear them to see what happens,” he is keen to point out. The flower on his jacket, like the suit, was created for him by Antonio Marras. “Antonio rang me and said: ‘Look, Marcello, I made Michela’s dress when she won the Campiello Prize (for Accabadora, ed.) and I’ve got to make yours too.’ So Antonio’s right. I replied: ‘As you say,’ as we say in Nuoro. Now I’ll ring him to tell him we’ve done it.”
Campiello Prize 2026
As is traditional, it fell to the jury of three hundred anonymous readers – comprising people of different ages, professions and geographical backgrounds – to read the novels and express their preference for one of the five shortlisted works: a procedure adopted since the very first edition of the prize (in 1963), which safeguards the independence and transparency of the judging process. Of those eligible to vote, 283 cast their votes; these are the final scores: