Today I would like to talk about Divine Adventure, the creative process behind it, the motivations that drove me to write this book, my aspirations and the results I believe I have achieved.
The inspiration came from a distant, gray, blurry image as I was walking around Villa Borghese, conversing on the phone with a friend, Paula. It was at that moment that I had a vision, small but significant: a city near the Baltic Sea, white, linear and clean, Baltic. Initially, there was nothing of what later developed as my imagination unfolded, but that initial glimmer left a sad nostalgia, which for obvious reasons took on a life of its own.
My goal was to explore the concept of perfection, and especially to critique our society, which imposes on us an adherence to rules masquerading as "perfection." We are told that we belong and are correct only if we agree and conform. In China, for example, there is the social score, a system that assesses how well citizens adhere to laws. From this point, the step to perfection and the white robe is short. This was the world I wished to paint with Baltica, KS and Kato: a place where there is no longer currency or traditional forms of government, only machine-imposed self-government, where the eternity of the soul becomes the only mirage, the only thing that matters. I have intentionally mixed religions, sociology and technology to reflect what I observe in our society, which is increasingly attached to rules, to the politically correct, to the demagogic, as Greek orators would say.
And what entity is more demagogic than the all-knowing machine, representing the average of human knowledge, the perfect center, the most absolute and eternal nothingness, already shaped and unchanging? In this context, I created a character, a boy named Overton, as Overton's window, a sociological principle that describes the constantly changing realm of the acceptable. Overton comes from the depths of imperfection, from the desert, from pain, from death. He is easily deceived by a simple lie: "I can make you meet your dead mother." A falsehood that, in the context of the story, seems absurd, but is actually not so different from the promises of some religions.
We are fragile, death frightens us, the loss of our loved ones or ourselves terrifies us. But not Overton. He has already lost everything, and out of his pain, I wanted to forge a hero, a boy who surpasses the teachings of the master, becoming in turn a master not only of himself, but also of his generation. A generation that did not know how to desire, but now, thanks to the love of a mother, the mystery of life, and the tragic resilience of a master who lived in illusion, embarks on a journey to the horizon.
The book is a hope, a desire to prepare the new generation for the spiritual and existential challenges it will face. The future promises wonders, but these technological wonders come at a cost. What is left of humanity when machines surpass it in everything? The soul? Our self? Our desires? And beyond desires, what is there? Love? These are the questions I wanted to explore in the book, to understand a piece of myself and trace a path beyond which I hoped to discover another part of me.
And so I did. The Divine Adventure opened my heart and soul, and to this day I still give thanks for the moment I decided to write it. It is a dense and at times complex text, but full of enthusiasm that will be difficult to match. If you have read it, thank you. If you haven't, I recommend that you buy it, save it and read it when you have time. And if you have a child, grandchild or young person about to face the ocean of life, I am sure that, as with the hundreds of people who have left a positive review, it will touch important chords that I hope they will carry with them over time.
On to the next page.