From Another World by Evelina Santangelo (tr. Ruth Clarke)
Review by Elodie Barnes
In Sicily, apparitions have started appearing. Children that seem to be ghosts are roaming the streets, breaking into schools and causing uproar, only to vanish before they can be caught. In Brussels, a woman named Karolina simultaneously mourns and searches for her son, who has disappeared after becoming involved in extremist activity. And in between the two, a young refugee named Khaled is trying to make his way south, back towards the beginning of his European journey, his only luggage a red suitcase. In Evelina Santangelo’s ambitious novel, skilfully translated by Ruth Clarke, these three stories form the main strands of a haunting narrative; one in which Europe is swamped by fear and xenophobia, and in which the spectre of ‘the other’ is brought sharply into focus.
From Another World is set in 2020 - the near future at the time of writing, the present at the time of translating, and the near past at the time of reading - and although it is billed as a partly gothic novel, as dark fiction that verges on the dystopian, considering the current political landscape it feels horrifyingly real. In Italy, the apparitions of children provoke fear and panic on a mass scale. While some wonder whether the children are ‘reality or psychosis’, others immediately conclude that they are linked to the ‘waves of refugees and migrants sweeping through the south and east of Europe’: either way, a politician sums up the situation by saying that, ‘They might not even exist…but people’s fear does exist. And we take that seriously.’ However the reader interprets these apparitions - as the ghosts of migrant children who died on the sea crossing from Africa, as those who reach Europe but are killed on the black labour market, or as those who fade into non-existence, without a home or an official identity - this thread of the story emphasises how fear of the other is the fuel for so much racist rhetoric, and how easily words can spill over into action. Those that call refugees ‘swarming rats’, for example, are the same ones that set fire to a Roma camp on New Year’s Eve.
At the same time, the parallel narratives of Karolina and Khaled in Brussels weave around each other, emanating from a single decision: when she sees Khaled in a discount store, Karolina decides to buy him the red suitcase that he wants. The touchpoint seems vague, and the connection of their stories through the rest of the book seems tentative, born entirely out of the alarm and confusion surrounding the ghosts in Sicily. It’s an illustration, once again, of the strength of fear, and how far such a frenzy can spread out of control. Karolina is searching for her missing son, whose laptop betrayed his involvement in extremism. As she frantically trawls through chatrooms, YouTube videos, blogs and websites, she finds material relating to both far right-wing and jihadist groups; a timely reminder that there isn’t so much difference between them. Khaled, meanwhile, embarks on a journey south, back towards the Mediterranean, the purpose of which gradually reveals itself in heart-breaking detail.
Moving between these different strands, the reader is only anchored by the place name and date at the beginning of each (very short) chapter. Even the tenses change: the Italian thread is mostly written in the past tense, giving it more of a timeless quality, whereas Karolina and Khaled’s stories are mostly (but not always) written in the present tense, making them much more immediate. What has happened, what is happening now, what will continue to happen? Frequent use of the condition ‘if’ also makes it clear that none of this needs to be certain, that nothing is absolute. With different attitudes, different reactions, different politics, this could have been a very different book.
These different and disparate stories, held together by a single moment, never really coalesce or reach a definite conclusion. While frustrating, it also seems entirely appropriate, as many refugees and migrants rarely have the luxury of a settled (never mind happy) ending. There are glimmers of hope, shown in those that offer help and support even when society or the law is against them, but generally From Another World offers little in the way of optimism. The strong imagery and gothic metaphors highlight, very successfully, an urgent subject, and it’s this that makes the book such a powerful read.
From Another World is published by Granta, 7th October 2021