LOST ON ME

A coming-of-age story set in Italy and filled with humor and neuroses.

When Veronica falls ill with rheumatic fever as a child, her father—whose pastimes include building walls in their apartment, worrying about radiation, and yelling—is overjoyed that someone in their family is actually sick and wraps Vero in paper towels because he’s convinced that sweating will harm her. Later, Vero’s mother, not to be outdone in an unspoken competition of maladjusted parenting, calls Vero on the phone several times a month to say that her brother, Christian, has died, all because he didn’t immediately respond to his mother's texts. Vero’s childhood and adulthood are on full display in this novel, as we are invited into her home to witness the absurd, the loving, and the traumatic. She navigates an isolated childhood during which she and Christian watch children play in the courtyard below their apartment but are not allowed by their parents to join in. (In one particularly distressing yet absurd moment, they witness the neighborhood children playing soccer using a toad in lieu of a ball.) There is also Vero's adolescence, full of first loves, best friends, and familial abuse, and an adulthood spent trying to reconcile it all through her writing. Raimo weaves together a series of nonlinear vignettes with a deft hand, connecting seemingly disparate moments through themes of longing, loneliness, identity, and, perhaps most profoundly, the concept of memory itself: “But how can you reconcile with something or someone if your memories are hazy? If they change in the very process of forming? They can take away everything but our memories, people say. But who would ever be interested in that kind of expropriation?”

A witty and complex portrait of a woman becoming herself.