The Shape of Water

The Shape of Water (1994) Andrea Camilleri translated by Stephen Sartarelli

After stumbling upon The Fencing Master several years ago, I overcame my reluctance to read books that had been translated into English. I’d somehow gotten it into my head that translated books were literature and my experiences with literature have not always been the best.

Never mind the fact that I love Virgil and Ovid. They were different you see. They were storytelling and folklore and mythology and fascinating. Not literature. Well, I quickly changed my mind, and have since then been pleased to discover that things get translated into English because they’re good. And if I stick to the genres I like best (fantasy and mystery) I should be pleased with the results.

I started this book awhile ago, but didn’t quite get into it. However, having read much of Donna Leon‘s Commissario Guido Brunetti series I found The Shape of Water easier to read. First, the pacing of the book seemed more comfortable, and I was no longer surprised by the fact that everything stopped for meals. I was also not surprised by some of the things that American readers might find outlandish, such as falsifying evidence, or the lack of trust of the police. That’s not to say Donna Leon and Andrea Camilleri are comparable. They aren’t. There are two very different books by two very different authors, one of whom is a native Italian.

Camilleri is extremely earthy. His language and demeanor are what you might expect from a small town cop–which he is. Or to put it another way, I don’t think I’ll be placing this book on my grandmother’s To Read pile.

But despite these differences, the flow of life and of the stories is somehow similar, despite the dissimilarities of the cities in which the detectives reside. After all, The Shape of Water is set in Sicily.

Inspector Montalbano is called out to the scene of a death–no one is sure if it is murder or not, but enough about the scene raises his suspicions that he refuses to close the case until he is sure. What I like best about Montalbano is his concern. His childhood friend may be the biggest pimp in town, but when he speaks to the window he does not want to discuss with her the circumstances of her husband’s death, for fear of causing her additional pain.

Of course what I’m curious about now is the authenticity of the vulgarity. Specifically, Do the words chose in this translation have the same punch as the words chosen in Italian? The word “fuck” appears quite frequently here. Does the word in the original Italian carry the same connotation as the “fuck” does? The same baggage? I’ve had similar questions when reading other translated books, and if other books in this series are translated by the same person, I’ll be curious to see whether this remains consistent through his translations.
Rating: 7/10

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