Lake water is never sweet

Giulia Caminito's book narrates the story of two women: a mother, Antonia, and a daughter, Gaia. Red-haired Antonia is a headstrong, long-suffering woman who is raising four children while taking care of her husband, who was left disabled after an accident at work, and in the opening chapter we see her arguing in the offices of ATER (Italian territorial agency for social housing) to get her accommodation; later on, the family moves to Anguillara, on Lake Bracciano. Gaia is a girl who always feels a step behind her peers; she has to fight for every little thing, life it’s a constant struggle. She has to commute to Rome to attend school, and relationships with her classmates are not always easy; Alessandro, for instance, constantly teases and bullies her, and one day, out of spite, breaks her tennis racket, bought with her family’s hard-earned money. Gaia could report the incident to the teachers or to the boy's parents, but for the first time in her life she decides to sort things out all by herself, and breaks Alessandro's knee. Gaia's anger is one way to interpret the story, anger that is both individual and individualist, that doesn’t express her social condition, that is not channelled into a fight, unlike her brother Mariano’s anger, who secretly catches a train to join the G8 protest in Genoa – the event is televised, but Gaia's classmates just like watching Dawson’s Creek. Her resentment accompanies her throughout her life, permeates her story, her close friendships – such as the one with Iris, another key character in the novel – her loves, her betrayals, causing more anger. Her life, however, remains unresolved; as she grows into an adult, we keep on expecting her to come into herself but it doesn't happen – something that, perhaps, says a lot about the generation grown up at the turn of the millennium. L’acqua del lago non è mai dolce Giulia Caminito Bompiani, 2020