An Italian Obsession
Young Adult/Historical/General Fiction
Title: An Italian Obsession
Author: Kfir Luzzatoo
Date Published: 9/3/12
In the lax atmosphere of middle-class post-war Italy, sex and drugs are easy to come by. Roberto tries to find his own balance, but a crush he had for Alessandra in elementary school is reignited and the course of his life is changed forever.
It's the 1970’s, a time of political upheaval driven by disillusioned young people. Roberto is caught up in the times. He makes a new start, but his past catches up with him. Finding himself accused of a crime, he must defend himself even when he isn’t sure he committed it. A vivid snapshot of European post-war society, this novel is viewed through the eyes of a young adult coming of age.
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Kfir was born and raised in Italy, and moved to Israel as a teenager. He acquired the love for the English language from his father, a former U.S. soldier and WWII veteran, a voracious reader and a prolific writer. Kfir has a PhD in chemical engineering and works as a patent attorney. He lives in Omer, Israel, with his full-time partner, Esther, their four children, Michal, Lilach, Tamar and Yonatan, and the dog Elvis.
Novels: Crossing the Meadow (2003); The Odyssey Gene (2006); The Evelyn Project (2012); Have Book – Will Travel (2012 – with Yonatan Luzzatto); An Italian Obsession (2012).
Short Story Collections: His Darker Side (2002-2011); His Lighter Side (2002-2011).
Non-Fiction: The World of Patents (2002)
Blog: on the web site.
“What’s biting him?” I asked. His behavior surprised me.
“Oh, nothing. Pay no attention to him.”
“You know what I think? I think he’s jealous…”
“Don’t laugh. I’m starting to be jealous myself. I see that you two have a special relationship and, frankly, I don’t like it.”
“You don’t?” she asked, mockingly. She was still smiling with amusement.
“No, I don’t. For instance, do you have to hug him every time you see him? And he touches you way too much on every occasion. I wish…”
“No, let me finish. I wish you would keep some distance from him. I’m not unreasonable, or bigoted, but it really annoys me.”
“Roberto,” she said again, and waited.
“Franco is gay.”
“What?” I almost shouted, incredulously.
“He’s gay. G-a-y. We’ve known each other since kindergarten and I love him like a brother, but he’s no competition for you, so calm down, okay?”
I felt stupid; and relieved. More stupid, though.
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