The Review of Contemporary Fiction

Concave, by Roberto Pazzi, translated by Oonagh Stransky
reviewed by Sally E. Parry

Roberto Pazzi. Conclave. Trans. Oonagh Stransky. Steerforth, 2003. 231 pp. Paper: $14.95.

A pope who seems larger than life has died. Who will replace him? Although this novel starts out as though it were revisiting The Shoes of the Fisherman, it slowly takes on a magic-realist style. The cardinals realize that their conclave will take more than a few days, and as the days turn into weeks and months, the pressure of making a choice plays on the psyches of these mostly elderly men. There is much illness, several deaths, and behavior that seems to lack any secular explanation. One cardinal disappears, two try to escape out a window, and nearly all of them engage in a St. Vitus dance that can be stopped only by an incantation from an African archbishop. Evil seems to be embodied in a number of infestations—of rats, scorpions, and bats—which are visiting the Vatican like the plagues of Egypt. They leave teeth marks in the paintings of the saints, consume pictures of previous cardinals, and in general lay waste to the great works of art that the Church owns. Only images of Jesus and the Madonna are spared. In desperation the chief engineer arranges for cats, then chickens, then owls, to be brought in to fight the various plagues. The cardinals are left to ponder where God is and whether He has decided to appear “not among the ranks of the wealthy Catholics, but among the poor Muslims.” A last gasp of evil, in the form of a great storm, engulfs the Vatican and a choice for a new pope is finally made by acclamation, with the help, apparently, of some angels. Pazzi’s novel is a serious examination of some of the problems facing the Catholic Church, yet in a style that is beguiling and mystical.