...but it's a great book. Psyconoir with culture, cold blooded slow hearted carachters that sink in their own lifes. Read it, even if you ignore who he is.

Labeling this book a "novel" does it as much of a disservice as labeling the main character's son Paolo "disabled." In both cases, the labels are limiting. And limits are what the book is all about--the limits Prof. Frigerio feels in his ability to help his son, the limits of the public institutions set up to help the family, the limits of everyone's patience, the limits of Frigerio's ability to identify with his son's problems, and his son's limits in helping the world to know him and his abilities.

More a memoir about Paolo's childhood than a novel, the book sensitively and uncompromisingly portrays the difficulties of raising a child whose abilities are limited in some areas but normal in others. A medical mistake at Paolo's birth has left him unable to walk or talk like other children, though he is intelligent, and Professor Frigerio and his wife must take the lead in finding help for him and for themselves. Early on, a doctor tells Frigerio, "These children are born twice. Their second birth depends on you, on what you are able to give to them." Taking this to heart, Frigerio works to find therapists, support groups, a nurturing school environment, psychologists, and whatever else it takes to ensure that his son has the best possible chance for success.

By turns philosophical, humorous, resentful, and highly sensitive, Frigerio is an acute observer of the reactions of other people, including the medical profession, toward his son, and he speaks to the reader in uncompromising terms. Intentionally or not, however, he remains at a distance, as much an observer as a participant in his son's life, and his wife and older son Alfredo, who are as directly affected as Frigerio, appear infrequently. Paolo's brief appearances late in the book, as he deals with a crank phone call from a teenage girl, with a vacation trip, and with an opportunity to appear on stage give the reader an opportunity to know him a bit as a person, rather than as the almost silent inspiration for this book. The author's dispassionate approach is successful in maintaining the dignity of all the characters, an unusual (and welcome) approach in these tell-all times, though it does come at the expense of some reader involvement. Mary Whipple