November 17, 2014
"Tito falls. My wife falls. I fall. What unites usâ¦what will always unite usâ¦is the fall." Mainardi has written four novels, two essay collections, a screenplay featured at the Venice and New York Film Festivals, andâis raising a son with cerebral palsy, Tito. The couple copes with Tito's fate by picking historical figures to blame: Hitler, John Ruskin, Napolean Bonaparte. He makes mystic arguments against the beautiful hospital Tito was born in, believing John Ruskin's proposal that "the architecture of a place" has the ability to "shape the destiny of its inhabitants." The memoir starts frustratingly slowly and is melodramatically repetitive (he uses derivates of cry five times on one page). But, once he begins to talk about his personal relationship with Tito in depth, it becomes clear that his parallels and praises, even the most extreme, are not delusional or indulgent, instead, a product of absolute love and playfulness. When looking back on statements such as, "Tito is my water lily. I am the Claude Monet of cerebral palsy," one is able to appreciate Mainardi's humor, which does not translate immediately. The memoir consists of 424 chapters, includes photographs, paintings, and extensive cultural research. Mainardi creates a particular journey into the universe of his mind, directed by his son.
Starred review from August 15, 2014
A father finds his life transformed when his son is born with cerebral palsy, as illuminated through this masterfully written memoir. The structuring of this book, by Venice-based Brazilian author Mainardi, might initially seem overly precious or gimmicky. Each very short section (a paragraph or two, a photo, a drawing) is numbered, with each representing a step taken by the author's son, Tito, before he inevitably falls. The 424 steps here represent a monumental achievement, for, as the author notes, the "sixteen steps Tito took on 28 September 2005 became, some months later, twenty-seven steps. Some months later, the seven steps became forty-four steps...." Ultimately, the structuring provides a sturdy frame that allows Mainardi to avoid sentimentality or wallowing in grief (or rage at the Venetian hospital that bungled the birth), while showing how the unconditional love the parents have for their son has transformed the author's world. He connects everything to Tito's destiny-from the architecture that drew him to the hospital to "Hitler's 'euthanasia' program [that] offered 'mercy killings' to those whose lives were 'worthless' or 'not worth living' " to Neil Young's experience with two sons born with cerebral palsy and the music that resulted in such unlikely juxtapositions as, "No one falls better than James Joyce. Apart from Lou Costello." As the author of four published novels and a column in the Brazilian magazine Veja, Mainardi now thinks of himself: "I am Tito's father. I exist only because Tito exists." Tito emerges as collaborator in the book-not as a cause or a type or a symbol but as a happy, well-adjusted, well-loved individual with a life well worth living. A singularly compelling memoir.
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