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  Uccelli da gabbia e da voliera Cage and aviary birds Andrea De Carlo Translated by Claire Taylor   Chapter Nine, extract   I phone my secretary, tell her I'm feeling ill and can't go to MultiCo this morning. I go to Mario Oltena's house, without even phoning first to let him know. I stop at a bakery on the way, buy six little redcurrant custard slices. I climb the five flights of stairs, try the handle: the door is unlocked. Mario Oltena is in bed, hair all tousled, a cup of tea in his hand, staring into space. I ask "What on earth are you doing still in bed?"   He says "I had to work till two last night". His voice is tired; there's a tiredness in the way he extends his left hand towards the package I hold out to him. He says "I had to cook dinner for forty at the house of this crazy old lady who has an obsession for inviting people round for dinner parties after the premieres at La Scala. You should see her, she's so gr...
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  Boomerang by Stefano Benni Translated by Claire Taylor   Suddenly, one day, Mr Remo began to hate his dog. He wasn't a bad man. But something inside him had broken when he'd become a widower. He'd lost his wife and he was left with the dog, a roly-poly sausage-shaped mongrel, fat and sort of black, with big bat ears. His name was Boom, or actually Boomerang, because whatever you threw for him he would bring it back, with great speed and tenacity. At one time Mr Remo and Boom had taken long walks together and talked about the world, human and canine, about Descartes and Rin Tin Tin. They'd had a very special relationship. But now they never talked. The man would sit in an armchair staring into space and Boom would curl up at his feet, gazing at him with boundless affection.   It was this gaze of absolute devotion and total loyalty that Mr Remo detested most of all. The world was nothing but loss, loneliness and pain. What was the point of such an incongru...
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