Customer Reviews

Earthquake I.D.

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John Domini has written a dense, beautiful, deeply thoughtful novel. What a pleasure it is to read a book written by someone who not only has a profound regard for the power of words (his descriptions of landscape are splendid), but also a respect for great story-telling and an enormous sense of compassion for the human condition.

Set in Naples, Italy, in the aftermath chaos of a major earthquake, the Lulucita family arrive in the city, ostensibly to offer aid to undocumented, already-marginalized citizens (mostly Sub-Saharan refugees), now turned quake victims living in tent cities. Almost upon arrival, the family is mugged and their documents stolen. The Earthquake I.D.s of the title are replacement, temporary passports issued by the powers that be, and the central metaphor for the novel. We are all, Domini seems to be saying, people without permanent places, or even permanent identities.

The point of view is that of Barbara Lulucita, often referred to as "the mother," a woman seriously considering ending her marriage. Domini does a terrific joy of digging deep in the psyche of a woman in crisis. It's pitch-perfect -- the confusion, guilt, anguish, rage, passion and sorrow, all mixed together. The setting is also perfectly described and utilized, becoming a symbol for the tensions and chaos in the hearts and minds of the novel's characters.

This is a brilliant shape-shifter of a novel.

It is at times metaphysical: Paul, the middle son apparently has the power to heal by the laying on of hands, beginning with healing his father whose head is cracked wide open in the opening scenes. People follow him around, offering him holy trinkets to bless, pressing their lips to the windows of a car he rides in. He becomes an icon, and such things can be dangerous.

It is at times theological: Barbara, devoutly Catholic befriends a priest and their conversations are complex and nuanced. (It should be noted that the rhythm of the prose almost sounds as if it's been written by someone who speaks Italian as their mother tongue, and far from being irritating, for me this added to the sense of cultural laying at work.)

It is at times a meditation on culture clash: consider the jarring juxtaposition between the Lulucita's white-bread and mini-van Connecticut background and the teeming, messy, malodorous tent city. Consider the disturbing failed adoption of a Mexican teenager with marks on her body indicating she may have been kept in a cage -- and how the girl sexually fondles the boys in the family. Consider, too, that even though the Lulucitas find themselves battered and without I.D. as do the refugees, they are never treated like refugees, but always with the preference of assumed privilege, which of course only deepens the chiaroscuro.

At other times it is political: the displaced refugees, the toxicity of mass media, corrupt NATO corruption, the haves and have-nots.

And it is also a novel of family secrets and loyalties and the heart of a woman.

Okay, SMALL criticisms -- the title and the cover. The cover doesn't do the book justice -- bland and unappealing, and unlikely to seduce a buyer in a bookstore. Similarly, I don't like the title, finding it less-than-evocative. There is a phrase Domini uses early on in the book to describe Naples; he calls it a "city of prayers." All the way through, I couldn't help but wish he'd used that for the title. Domini might not have had much choice in these things, but I'm just saying...the work deserves better, in my humble opinion.

In the end, nothing is simple in this novel, and the complexity can be dizzying, but the pleasure is undeniable. Domini seems to be asking the reader to consider his/her own response to world events, to privilege and our responsibilities to each other. I, for one, know I'll be thinking about this novel for a long time to come. Well done.

I agree with the other commenter who said the book is hard to pin down. It's vivid, original. The post quake Neapolitan landscape with its odd AMerican, Italian, African, gypsy characters, the political intrigue, the mysticism is really riveting
As a readers, we never feel on solid ground, but we keep on reading anyway, sucked into this strange and compelling universe.

One John Domini novel equals about three semesters of creative writing. Accordingly, his latest book, "Earthquake I. D.," qualifiies him for a doctorate.
The book is about an earthquake, except that it isn't. It's about an accident that should have killed, a marriage that did die, and how a family teetering on oblivion manages to survive an earthly upheaval.
No ex-newspaperman should be allowed to review such a novel as "Earthquake I. D." News writers summarize in the first paragraph, then fill in the details until they run out of room, maybe 21 inches.
Domini, however, tints his narrative with subtlety, sympathy and shock; the reader has to pay attention.
That done, "Earthquake I.D." leaves the reader with a remarkable sense of fulfillment.

Walt Shotwell, retired Des Moines Register reporter/columnist

I enjoyed EARTHQUAKE I.D. for the snappy, worldly voice; for
the character and point of view of Barbara, a menopausal American wife and mother contemplating divorce as her husband drags their family to Naples, Italy, and takes a job in the earthquake relief effort--for her spiritual pilgrimage, actually; for the depiction of her marriage and family life; for her eleven-year-old son Paul's miraculous powers, especially the "interviews" where he describes his healing of others in terms of orgasms; for the plotting of a shady official's transit paper intrigue; and overall, for the way Domini weaves all this and more into a symbolic evocation of Naples. Barbara's discovery of a trusted old priest humping her elderly mother-in-law (a great character) is sublimely outrageous and Domini earns his nods to Fellini as well as to Dante. Bravo!

While embarking through the streets of Naples, the Italian American Lulucita family is struck down by a vicious hit-and-run theft that leaves its patriarch fatally wounded, until he is miraculously healed by the strange and sudden powers of his quirky eleven-year-old son, Paul. So begins the opening of this powerhouse of a novel, one that is driven by a ferocious and deeply engaging momentum from exciting start to finish. Few novelists examine contemporary life in Naples with the degree of imagination and evocative storytelling as John Domini. Earthquake I.D. is a brilliantly conceived book, the first in a trilogy exploring present-day Naples from different cultural perspectives. This novel follows the Italian American Lulucita family who leave the comforts of their suburban lives to work in a refugee camp funded by NATO and the UN, after a devastating earthquake leaves countless individuals (mostly illegal African immigrants) homeless. Devoted Catholic, Barbara Lulucita, the novel's lead, is torn between protecting her five children amidst a Naples teeming with crime and treachery, and breaking away from her husband Jay, who becomes entangled in the suspicious agenda of NATO officer, Lieutenant Major Silky Kahlberg. Their situation is further convoluted when eleven-year-old Paul, their quirky middle child, begins exhibiting mysterious healing powers that unwittingly makes him a Christ figure to both Neapolitan locals and refugees alike.
The plot of this novel is so impressive, unfolding in a complex array of worlds within worlds that creates a unique and refreshing look at Southern Italy. Domini does well in framing the personal, domestic lives of these characters around some of the more controversial issues at the heart of Italy today, including the topic of immigration and the ongoing economic crisis. I was especially impressed with Barbara Lulucita's character, who defies the tired stereotypes of Italian American women (especially that of the mother-saint figure) portrayed in a great majority of contemporary films and books. Barbara is a complicated, intelligent and soulful woman unafraid to shake things up in the pursuit of a new life. The style of Domini's writing is also equally impressive. Rich and exacting, the details he weaves together are at once unique interpretations of wholly authentic human experiences.
John Domini should be thanked for writing this exciting and extremely well-written novel. If you are looking for an intelligent and entertaining book involving contemporary Italian life, look no further. I highly recommend Earthquake I.D. and look forward to reading the last in Domini's Naples trilogy, The Color Inside of a Melon.

It's a bit hard to pin this novel down. The voice of the narrator has a distinctly cynical edge, as if the story were being related by some hard-boiled noir detective of 1930s vintage. The portrait of Naples, on the other hand, seems to stem from mythological times, as if Virgil were once again recounting--with only slight changes in the details--Aeneas's descent into the underworld. Then again, there are elements of magical realism, as if the author were one of the Latin American masters of that style. And there are timeless religious themes--the individual's longing for spirituality and the supreme importance of compassion toward one's fellow creatures--which suggest that the author is actually one of the Church Fathers from the third or fourth century.

In any event, we're definitely not in Bridgeport anymore. Rather, we're in a somewhat surreal world in which there seems to be danger around every corner and one cannot be certain whom to trust, but also one in which miracles are possible and the unsettling turmoil of daily events will inevitably lead to greater self-knowledge. The dominant note, in fact, seems to be sympathy for the "infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing" that represents most of humanity.

The intricate pastiche of diverse elements that makes up Earthquake I.D. will not appeal to everyone, but there's no question that this is a richly human story, masterfully told.

I'm overwhelmed by this novel. It's about history, religion, travel, philosophy, phychiatry, biology--you name it and it's there. It's about a truly wise mother and father and their 5 children on a mission to do "God's work" in earthquake ravaged Naples, Italy. Domini knows Naples like the back of his hand, and he knows about traditional family and the workings on the inside. He knows about graft and people in high places trying to climb higher. I asked Domini if he is a Christian because only a Christian could have written about the inner workings of the Holy Spirit. Love this bookfor being politically incorrect and not apologizing about it. Janice Daugharty

John Domini is an extremely talented writer and all his skills are on display in Earthquake I.D. This is a suspenseful story full of mystery, believable characters, and wonderful images. The action begins in the opening pages when an American family arrives in Naples to help earthquake victims, and on their first day in the city are robbed by muggers on a motorcycle: "An elbow caught her, and as the cycle roared away the pain flared in her mind's eye in the shape of one attacker's kite-like blue bandanna--the lone bit of evidence the family would have for weeks to come." There are great moments like this on every page and the plot continues to thicken as we learn more about a colorful cast of characters, many of whom turn out not to be who they seem to be when we first meet them. Lots of well-timed surprises. This is the perfect novel to take on vacation.

EARTHQUAKE I. D. joins a not-so-lengthy list of great novels about Americans in Italy: these, a middle-class family led by an Italian American wife and mother, heroically adrift in her marriage and in a city she's had foisted upon her. Domini deftly fleshes out not only the emotional life of her family and its middle child, the "miracolino," but also contemporary Naples itself, a city of refugees, hucksters, facilitators and half-samaritans. The lives of all Domini's characters play themselves out in colorful threads of plot, which snake through the novel like medieval alleys and catacombs, and which Domini masterfully brings together in a series of climactic scenes that brought great joy to this middle-class American reader.

The colorful chaos of Naples is a huge part of this book's intriguing plot, filled with fully developed characters. Great holiday and great book club stuff! The central character, Barbara, is a rare case of a woman past forty, given the complexity and sensuality of an ingenue.