On July 17, 2019, at the age of 93, Andrea Camilleri passed away in Rome, Italy.
Camilleri was an Italian writer born in 1925 in Porto Empedocle, Sicily. He was best known for his Inspector Montalbano series, which gained significant popularity both in Italy and internationally. The series, set in Sicily, features the character of Inspector Salvo Montalbano, a police inspector in the imaginary town of Vigata, known for his wit, unconventional methods, and strong sense of justice.
A prolific writer, Camilleri authored numerous novels, short stories, and plays throughout his career. His works often delved into themes such as Sicilian history, politics, and society. He was highly regarded for his ability to weave compelling narratives while offering insights into contemporary Italian culture. His legacy as a prominent figure in modern Italian literature continues to be celebrated by readers and literary enthusiasts worldwide.
He also holds a very special place in my heart, for a simple reason.
I have never had a strong connection with the concept of ‘home.’ My cultural identity has always felt fluid, a constructed artifact shaped and molded by years of wandering, countless experiences, and numerous people I’ve encountered. About my Sicilian roots, I must admit that I have never been able to fully forgive my land, my hometown, for the pain they have caused me over the years. All the countless wonders that bless my Sicily are juxtaposed with a vivid reality of corruption, ignorance, and lack of hope. Every time I visit, there’s an emotional tug that almost brings me to tears. When I’m away, complex and conflicting emotions make it even more challenging to relate to that part of my identity. However, during these times, I know I can count on a few things to find solace.
Since I left my hometown of Palermo for the first time a decade ago, Camilleri has always been a companion for me. Through his novels, he reminded me of my origins: of the fact that I came from a land tainted by a history of injustice and inequity, and yet, a land that is fiercely loyal and faithful to itself. Camilleri was there at times when I felt disconnected, lost, unsure of where I came from. His books kept me company in moments when, in my stubborn foolishness, I thought I didn’t care so much about my Sicilian identity. I thought I didn’t feel any connection to my land and that that was just fine, that my life was far away and destined to be far away, so it didn’t matter if I didn’t feel ‘truly’ Sicilian. Yet every time I opened one of Camilleri’s novels, I felt a surge of pride. I was amazed by how much I agreed with him. His words and observations resonated with me, and I admired his opinions, stories, characters, and clever remarks. A strange melancholy permeates the pages of his novels, even if perhaps that’s something of my own; but intermingled with this melancholy there are hope, camaraderie, passion, loyalty, and justice. Every day, Camilleri reminded me that there was something I admired about being Sicilian, that there was something I admired about Sicily. He made me understand that Sicily is an island that has endured injustice but has never stopped fighting against it. However much corruption there may be, there will always be an equal measure of justice to counter it. Thank you, Andrea, for teaching me that, even in the darkest moments, I can count on this thought to feel that connection, so that I never have to feel like I don’t belong again.