" Sometimes one wonders if there is still no literature wants to run easy, he feels the responsibility and power of each word drawn on the page: a literature that has to come to the heart of life, and if that fails does not risk the failure of art, but the bane of existence. Aurelio Pike has written an important book, a thousand miles away from what we read today, a diary-novel that mixes bare hands present and past, shards of glass and blue skies, sharp fragments of time and moments of forgetfulness. If Luckily our (Rizzoli ) has the front door close, does not invite pander to enter into a "good story". Rather bumps, scrapes, kicks, it almost seems to tell the reader: "This is my home, here you do as I say, do not expect to walk in some pleasant scenery, including personaggetti melodious." The origin of the book there is the promise made by the writer's grandfather telling his story, the story of an entire family, since the great-great grandfather lived Archangel of Stone Hill's house, and killed and all for love lost, until all 'children of the small Aurelietto, look and learn that the strength and pain of life. We are almost deserted on a line, one that leads Verga more furious by the visionary melancholy of Federigo Tozzi, those in the Italian countryside where the land is the blood and dream. It 'an archaic world, fiercely cheerful, cheerfully ferocious, which proceeds between failures and great love, hugs and goodbyes and drinking and huge harvests, a rural world that slowly enters the modern risk paying the high price of forgetfulness bury and erase everything. Aurelio for this peak is sacred and pagan ceremonies of a threshing floor where the living and the dead are still together on the evening of the Great Banquet. Each pierced resurfaces in the present with its history, offers any dead roots to the ephemeral flowers of today. The father is the hub of this wheel melancholy, that he died too young, when Aurelio Pike had not yet two years. But the family remained intact, patriarchy established by his grandfather ruled the blows of fate, and the child grew into adoration almost sacred by the blood of his race, people are rude, proud, tightly linked to the traditions of the countryside, to its history . All the book fights between the bell and the hoe, to rap, beats time of baptisms and marriages, communions and funerals. There is an emphasis declared un'epicità that lifts the newspaper and brings it to the heavens of Necessity, a solemnity that shakes every time. If luck is our is the novel of an Italy that no longer exists and yet still remember, a terrible and noble an Italy in which everything is affected in stone of family memories, and shame are not even washed a hundred years, and love becomes a feast for all. Tearing the memories from the body, Pike wanted to celebrate our past with a voice cry, emotional, unforgettable. "(From Mark Lodoli A family of fun and ferocity archaic," La Repubblica ", 21/02 / '11)
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