It may be best to read "a story of love and pollution part 1" first, but Richard says it just seems like a bunch of rambling about my life story to him -- so it may not make much sense to you. Here is the promised continuation of ramblings --
When I finished reading the book, I insisted that Richard had to read it, too. He began but was never able to finish it. In fact, we've not been able to even discuss it together. I'm not sure if it was the violence that turned him off or just the truth, all of the truths that Saviano offered.
I don't even know how much of the book is fact or how much is fiction. The author claims it's fact. I tend to believe him.
One of the many disturbing things I learned from the book is that the area is essentially a toxic dump, a dump for its own refuse and also a dump for much of the rest of Italy and Europe. The industrial waste of the rich North often ends up there. The trash that you see along the side of the road or overflowing the bins is only a miniscule part of the larger problem that exists there. It is alarming. It is disturbing. If I had read the book before living there, then I would never had chosen to live there. You might not either.
The violence and the crime provide reason to be alarmed as well. The house of our friends that was raided by Carabineri officers? It's in Casal di Principe. Read the book, you'll see why that matters. It is likely that a tunnel did exist beneath the floors. It is likely that their rent money (your tax dollars) was supporting illegal activities. This reaches beyond comprehension.
Now when I read articles about purported pollution or contamination of water or food -- well, I tend to believe that all accusations are indeed true and all else is a cover-up.
There are thousands of good people there, innocent, hard-working people going about their days like you and me. People with the same hopes and dreams for their children.
Occasionally Richard and I entertain the idea of relocating to Naples -- either when the Young One is ready for high school or perhaps afterwards. Every time we have the conversation, the dire state of the environment enters the conversation and essentially ends that dream. Damn that book.
I was able to leave. Some people are not. I'm afraid that if I did have to return, I would be among the miserable. How could I not? I did not mean to reduce all the problems of the place down to a bit of trash on the side of the road & the absence of recycling, but I suppose I effectively did so. I know it reaches much further. I also I likely only know of small parts of it. Sorry to have offended you so, KC.
If this doesn't make much sense to you -- read the book.
And hey -- I do not mean to suggest that all is peachy in our new home in the North. My dear husband has developed respiratory issues that magically clear up as soon as he leaves this environment. How do you like that irony? This is not isolated to him, either.