Federí, a Neapolitan railway clerk, is convinced he would be a world-famous artist if it weren’t for the family that inconveniently relies on him - this bitter disappointment festers, and years later his oldest son attempts to piece together the truth about a man he has spent his whole life trying not to resemble…

This is a no-holds-barred portrait of a man who clearly believes that he has all of the skills and none of the blame for the direction his life has taken - his lack of artistic success is everyone’s fault but his, and he takes all of his resentment out on his wife. It’s incredibly comprehensive and all too believable.

Unfortunately, it is also an absolute slog-fest that felt like it would never end. It was variations on the same thing over and over and whilst that did initially add richness to the story by rounding it out, ultimately it was painfully repetitive. I understand the story is based on Starnone’s own father and presumably it was cathartic to write, but as a reader it was just way too long, perhaps self-indulgently so.

There’s a little insight into what the narrator has internalised about himself and his father, but it is vastly overshadowed by the repetitive stories of the father. Likewise the setting - 1960s working class Naples - could have been fascinating had it been given room to breathe, but no, all of the story’s air was taken up by Federí.

An utterly slogtastic, overly-thorough portrait of a bitterly disappointed, manipulative father and husband.