This is out in a week. I would like to say, like Fleabag does, that this a love story (and maybe in part it is), but mostly it is a ghost story.
In a quiet and immobile plain, crossed by a slow river, there is a disturbing exolite house: the villa that a writer chose as his retirement, as a place to isolate himself from the world and write a horror novel. Soon, the writer discovers that he is not alone in that house, inhabited by presences, shadows and ghosts and surrounded by a mysterious forest that, perhaps, is also a cemetery. But the spirits that populate Aldilà are not only those, restless, of the dead, but also the ghosts of the great horror literature: the shadows of H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and Robert Louis Stevenson infest a novel that is macabre dance and tribute to masters , seance and reflection on the power of literature, its ability to exorcise demons and the horror that lives on the lives of each of us.
Andrea Morstabilini, afterlife, il Saggiatore September 10
