A Fantastic Interview with Ludovico Petravitti

Preliminary note: The following fictional interview is a blatant work of humour, as per Giorgio Baruchello's approach to this notion (cf. his Humour and Cruelty series in particular): A means to spur thought, then; but dressed as comedy, badinage, comic rant, parody, etc. Nothing more; nothing less. Reading it – to say nothing of appreciating it, which neither the interview nor the interviewee might deserve – requires possessing a sense of irony, as well as a modicum of self-irony. In addition, it calls for the ability to grasp all manners of figurative language, and rhetorical tropes and schemes such as, say, litotes, metaphor, hyperbole, asteismus, amara irrisio, paradox, sermocinatio, etc. Literalism equates death. Hence, all those persons who can't play or dislike the game of humour – because it may fail to amuse them, ruffle their feathers, generate feelings of inadequacy, etc. – should simply avoid it. In fact, from an ethical perspective, they ought to do so, inasmuch as we all have moral duties not only toward others, but also toward ourselves. If in doubt, ask any Kant specialist. If not in doubt, then reflect in earnest on the fact that no Socratic endeavour can ever be devoid of a certain sting, however minimal – just like the trite, unassuming gadfly, to which Socrates in/famously compared himself. And if you are totally unfamiliar with either Socrates or Kant, read books – read books!

Mr Petravitti, first of all, thank you very much for agreeing to this interview.

There’s nothing to thank me for. I am the one who's grateful: It’s indeed a rare pleasure to have such an opportunity!

Is it?

Oh, yes, really! And as I said, I'm grateful for it. Very grateful!

Why do you say so, and so enthusiastically, Mr Petravitti?

Well, to begin with, most people in my condition are generally forgotten. Once you’ve kicked the bucket, you know… It’s like they all want to turn the page and focus on what comes next. Or on who comes next. Like… characters in standard, poorly-scripted soap operas. The successful ones, that is. Those that made millions of bucks on the world’s TV networks... when I was young. Brazilian stuff, American... Even German, sometimes. Never Turkish ones. Nor Norwegian, in fact... hm... Swiss, maybe?

...In truth, well, you know, the only reason when they don’t ever turn the page, normally, is that they want to obsess about a specific sentence or, say, a single word – cruelly snatched out of its proper context, that is – so that they can cause an uproar, enjoy the thrill of taking offense, and generally feel superior – or think that they are so, even if they’re actually showing how stupid and prejudiced they are, in fact… But this is a different point altogether. The crucial matter is, as I said, to be remembered.

I see. And… the other reasons?

The interview is held in English, for one.

Oh? Is that… special or desirable, in your estimate?

Sure it is! You see, I am a fictional character in two facetious books written in Italian, which is a marginal, perchance minoritarian language, in global terms. This, I must add, notwithstanding the central role played by Italy and, to a lesser extent, the Italian language, in world civilisation and history at large. Just think of humankind, or at least the so-called “West,” without Roman aqueducts and bridges, Justinian’s jurisprudence, medieval universities and Papal schools, the music and the fine arts created at the Vatican and the courts of small city-states located all along the peninsula, the tradition of bel canto, and the invention of the radio, concrete, electric batteries, thermometers, banking techniques, bookkeeping, bookbinding, mechanical clocks, eyeglasses, the piano, pasta, gelato, pizza… Sorry, I got carried away! I suppose I must be peckish... At any rate, English – and this despite the awful stuff that they keep describing as “food,” I must point out – is the international language of our day. Therefore, by using English with you today, here, I should be able to address a bigger audience, this way... Right?

Why would you want to “address a bigger audience,” Mr Petravitti?

Because I want to make two important points clear, as far as the books, or bits thereof, written about me are concerned. On the one hand, both authors, who go by silly mortal names – “Baruchello” and “Buccola,” I believe they are – and claim to be some sort of ‘professionals’ – I seriously doubt that psychology and philosophy are actual "professions" but, anyway… – are in fact two bloody idiots. Total, utter, complete, undeniable, certified morons! I mean, if you think that donkeys are stupid, well... Anyway, it doesn't really matter, I reckon... hm... So many animals can be...

...On the other hand, the readers, who are often even more stupid than the writers themselves – and that’s really bad, believe me, and quite incredible, given the levels of ludicrous idiocy that we’re talking of... I mean, it's almost pathological stuff! – well, they may not realise that I have no control over my own dreams, which are the main theme and, in a way, the literary substance of the strange comedic fantasies and farcical phantasmagorias that the authors have... written, yes. Who controls their own dreams, apart from a few odd guys engaging in lucid dreaming, eh?

As a result – I feel compelled to explain the consequences in detail, because you or your own readers may be a bunch of cretins unable to make the simplest, most direct inference from the premises just provided to them, or you, and placed in front of their eyes... and yours, for that matter... – well, I am not to be held responsible for the views, claims, imagery, themes, etc. etc. of those dreams. I shouldn't be... It would be most unfair. Wouldn't it? And so many people are already unfair anyhow, in all kinds of cruel ways, without needing any new cause or some apparent justification... No?

Are there more reasons that you would like to mention?

For addressing a “bigger audience,” or for the eagerness with which I agreed to the interview?

Either issue, if you like. Or both, even: It’s your choice.

Well, then, allow me to mention another reason why I think that the authors, Drs Baruchello and Buccola, are two ridiculous nitwits; and then add two more points that I think are important to understand why a late literary character such as me may be happy to give you an interview like this one. Alright?

Please, Mr Petravitti, enlighten us.

Now, Drs Baruchello and Buccola have written about me in two books for Carlo Saladino Publishing. A), who reads books these days!? Don’t they know that the near-totality of all living people around the globe are addicted to 10-second online reels, and have an average attention span that is shorter than the one of the adult giant otter of Western Ontario, which is, incidentally, burning away as we speak, like most of the blasted planet?

B), Carlo Saladino Publishing is a small, independent publisher based in Palermo. Who cares about publishers of this ilk? If people don’t even read the repetitive, unoriginal tripe that goes by the name of “bestseller” these days, nor the hyped AI-made slop peddled around by the biggest publishers, is anyone ever going to read any of the inventive – I do not deny that Drs Baruchello and Buccola might possess a degree of genuine ingenuity, due perhaps to how brainless or misguided they are – well, prose, which they have created about me, without ever asking for my permission, hm? What are the chances of that, ah? Come on, it's a joke! A cruel one, in fact, and yet... a joke. Like life, actually...

It is an interesting explanation, Mr Petravitti: Please, go on!

Well, as regards why I may want to give you an interview, let me bring back the blazing thing that I was mentioning when referring to adult giant otters in Western Ontario: It’s burning. The province is choking. The world is incinerating. The glaciers are melting. The planet is collapsing... Life as we know it is on the line. Humankind is on the brink of extinction. Can't you see it? Can't you... get it? Haven't you got any idea of what's actually going on? The green planet – or blue, at least the way some cosmonauts described it, that is... – well, the only corner of the universe where there's some actual life... It's dying. It's being killed: Murdered! And yet, people keep going about their business as if there was still a rosy tomorrow ahead of them. They even plan new pipelines, or go to war over oil. What sort of nonsense is that, hm? Is it denial? Madness? What is it, uh? And where's rational choice gone, eh?

...If they ever get riled up, it’s because of trifling things such as money, fame, glitz, or some foolish totem concerning gender roles, culture wars, lexical propriety, and a bunch of other matters that, when all has been said and done, don’t matter a proverbial dry fig. Not a single one, in fact. Because – surprise, surprise – if you’re all stone cold dead, what the heck does it matter if there are now more female engineers and more male nurses? Or that old Homer didn’t have enough left-handed, red-haired, speech-impaired, Black, lesbian tradwives talking about free-range, polyamorous, democratic menstruation in his ancient epics? Or whether or not to allow the use of the term “retard” in a goofy comedy? Or the fact that an actor, who is now 97 years old, stated, in a private conversation back in 1957, that all Italians are chauvinistic goons, never to be trusted? First things first, not second; and certainly not third nor fourth: Primum vivere, deinde... altercari!

Still, Mr Petravitti, you must realise that many people, especially in today’s show business, can be worried about being "cancelled," or even wish to promote the recognition of historically marginalised groups, at least to ensure their own renewed employment. Don’t you realise that?

Yes, but… How can you be so deluded? Mamma mia! How can you be so… Gosh, it’s almost impossible to find words to describe the lunacy of people’s behaviour under the present, terrifying, lethal, apocalyptic... socio-environmental conditions in which your species has thrown itself, and seems unwilling to face and extricate itself from. The whole world is aflame! Nature is toast! The end is nigh! Even David Attenborough, God bless him, lost it at 100 and told the BBC that humans suck! I mean, how dense can you be?

...Goodness gracious...

So, with this interview, even if I’m a piece of satirical fiction and, since my demise, I have been living in a place that is ten times better than Blackpool, Lake Como and Mar-a-Lago combined together, I try once more to make you all think and grasp that you must act now, drastically, dramatically, decisively – well past any point of commercial compromise or political expediency that you may have been used to until... today! Rather, try and recall the emergency measures during Covid, or the mass mobilisations for World War Two: That is what you must do, if you want to save your sorry, fat, collective ass. Capisce?

The second point that I want to make, so as to explain why I… Uh, sorry. The angels are calling me: I’ll have to leave. We don't allow fascists in this place, but we do have our own hierarchies... Keep in mind what I told you, alright?  And please, please, don't misspell my name! It's "Pe-tra-vit-ti". Two t's, ok? It's the accursed Italian tongue, cicciobello, what else?

Picture: Anonymous' Studies for Figures of Five Angels (17th c.), New York MET (ref. no. 56.235.26), CC0, public domain (via Wikimedia Commons).