By Gianrico Carofiglio
"Carofiglio writes crisp, ironical novels which are as a lot love tales and philosophical treatises as they're criminal thrillers."—The New Yorker
"Part criminal mystery, half perception right into a guy combating his personal demons. each personality in Carofiglio's fiction has a narrative to inform and they're continually worthy listening to. because the writer himself is an anti-mafia prosecutor, this powerfully affecting novel merits from veracity in addition to tight writing."—Daily Mail
"A novel as a lot approximately human nature and the passage of time because it is ready law-breaking. Crisp laconic sentences, refined shifts in tone, and a unbroken translation that are meant to be commended."—The instances Literary Supplement
When Martina accuses her ex-boyfriend, the son of a robust neighborhood pass judgement on, of attack and battery, no witnesses will be persuaded to testify on her behalf, and one attorney after one other refuses to symbolize her. Guido Guerrieri understands the case may convey his criminal profession to a untimely, messy finish, yet he can't withstand the attraction of an it appears hopeless reason. Nor can he deny an allure to Sister Claudia, the younger girl in command of the guard the place Martina resides. Claudia stocks his love of martial arts and his virulent hatred of injustice.
Gianrico Carofiglio used to be an anti-Mafia prosecutor in Bari, a port at the coast of Puglia, for a few years, and is now a member of the Italian senate. He has offered over 2.5 million books of the Guerrieri sequence in Italy alone.
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Extra resources for A Walk in the Dark
Which of course was the kind of neck you’d expect to see on a forty-year-old man in good health and reasonable physical condition. My great-grandmother, as I didn’t stop to think at the time, had been at least eighty-five, if not older. I was about to start an anxious search for other marks of time – which had obviously passed without my realizing it – when the doorbell rang. I looked at my watch and realized, in this order (a) that Margherita was ready, was knocking at my door, and was probably thinking I was ready too, (b) that I wasn’t ready at all, and (c) that maybe I was starting to lose it.
Then I opened my briefcase, took out the yellow envelope and looked at what it contained. The photocopies were of a book on criminology by an American psychiatrist, about a kind of criminal I’d never had to deal with since becoming a lawyer. Or maybe I had, without realizing it. The stalker. In the first pages, the author, quoting US laws, a large number of studies, and the FBI manual of criminal classification, defined a stalker asa predator who furtively and obstinately follows a victim according to a specific criterion and acts in such as way as to cause emotional distress and arouse a reasonable fear of being killed or suffering physical abuse, or who in a constant, voluntary and premeditated fashion follows and harasses another person.
Silvia said hi, with the intense expression of a stone bass. Then I said maybe it was time to go. Margherita said yes, maybe it was. So I said goodbye to my new friend Silvia, who seemed rather disoriented. We said goodbye to a few other people and ten minutes later we were in the car, with the sea racing by on our right and the outlines of the apartment blocks on the sea road a few miles in front of us. To be honest, I have to admit that the sea, the apartment blocks and all the rest weren’t in perfect focus, but somehow I managed to hold the wheel.