To celebrate 100 years of Andrea Camilleri, Sellerio presents a new collection of 12 carefully selected titles from his vast and extraordinary body of work. Each book is introduced by the insightful perspective of some of the most acclaimed writers on the national and international literary scene and transformed into a treasured edition with refined design and stunning cover illustrations by Lorenzo Mattotti
The year was 1677 when, in Palermo, the Viceroy Don Angel de Guzmán suddenly passed away. The Kingdom’s counselors, initially struck by grief, were soon overcome by shock: in his will, Don Angel had decreed that his wife should assume the functions of Viceroy until the King of Spain made his decision.
Thus, against all laws and customs, Donna Eleonora di Mora found herself governing a Sicily ravaged by epidemics, famine, and poverty. Yet, defying all expectations, she managed to rectify the injustices of the Sacred Royal Council and improve the dire conditions of the people.
Her most revolutionary measures were those in favor of women: she established the conservatorio per le vergini pericolanti to provide orphaned girls with financial support and prevent them from turning to prostitution; she introduced a royal dowry for the neediest young women who wished to marry; and she implemented benefits for large families. All within the span of a lunar cycle.
Courageous and determined, Donna Eleonora, as the author describes her, was “a towering female figure, the only woman to govern in a male-dominated world; a magnificent example of power exercised responsibly for others, standing in eternal contrast to those who wield power for their own gain.”
Among the pages of history, Andrea Camilleri unearthed traces of this forgotten revolution and transformed them into a novel rich with imagination and pathos. With a special note by Chiara Valerio.
The Shape of Water is the first novel featuring Inspector Montalbano of Vigàta. Camilleri wrote it in 1994, and it was a true breakthrough—not so much for its inventive language, but for the way its protagonist was constructed.
In 2014, Michele Serra wrote:
“In his debut scene in the world of literature, Salvo Montalbano is absent. Or rather, he is present, but not among us. He is with himself. He is sleeping. And he is dreaming. Not just any dream, but an erotic one—an intense embrace with his distant yet close Livia. His dream is abruptly interrupted by a phone call from Sergeant Fazio. A man is dead, a new case has begun. Torn from himself, dragged out of bed, interrupted in the most intense and private of psychic ecstasies, the inspector curses as he tries to grasp ‘not so much the receiver, but the fleeting remnants of the dream that was inexorably fading away.’ It is the relentless metaphor of a birth—a sudden and traumatic call into the world. From a protective womb—sleep, the woman, the embrace—to his duty. Those remnants can never be stitched back together; that dream is forever broken. From that moment on, Salvo Montalbano belongs to us: his creator has delivered him to readers and viewers alike.”
A novel that felt like a revolution, and with it, Montalbano would achieve the rare and coveted fusion of popularity and literature. The book also features a special note by Antonio Manzini.