The Laces of Life: A Reflection on Relationships in Literature

Kuwait City, Kuwait Jul 12, 2026 ALN: There are books you read and feel, for the first time, that you never truly knew yourself before opening them. This profound experience often arises from the intersection of literature and personal introspection, where narratives resonate deeply with our own emotions and experiences. I was in my early university years when I first encountered the spell of “The Alexandria Quartet” by the British writer Lawrence Durrell (1912–1990). This series of novels, set in the backdrop of Alexandria, Egypt, explores themes of love, betrayal, and the complexities of human relationships through a multifaceted narrative structure. The moment I finished its first volume, “Justine,” in the translation of the distinguished Palestinian scholar Salma Khadra Jayyusi, a conviction took root in me that has never left: Every woman ought to read this novel, not to know literature, but to know herself; her feelings, her femininity, and all she carries within that only pages dare to reveal.

This conviction held firm until I opened “Lacci” by the Italian novelist Domenico Starnone and found myself in the grip of the very same feeling, only sharper and deeper. Published in its Arabic edition by Dar Al Karma (2019), in the translation of the gifted, late Amani Fawzi Habashi, the novel is built upon the hardest equation in human history: The relationship between a man and a woman bound together by decades of shared life, until that bond cracks without warning. The title, “Lacci,” translates to “Laces” in , symbolically representing the ties that bind individuals together, as well as the fragility of those connections.

The first book opens with the voice of the wife, Vanda, a mother of two, standing at the edge of collapse, asking for what she believes is the most natural thing in the world: that her husband Aldo return from the arms of his mistress Lidia to his home and his children. This initial scene is not merely a plot device; it serves as a powerful commentary on the emotional turmoil and existential questions that arise when relationships fracture. Yet what makes this voice extraordinary is not the story itself, but the way Starnone releases it, a man writing with a woman’s heart, and with breathtaking precision. This ability to authentically capture a woman's perspective is a testament to Starnone's skill as a writer, transcending gender boundaries in his exploration of love and loss.

Vanda does not merely cry out; she prosecutes. She questions, in a voice carrying the burning grief of every woman who has ever discovered she has been sleeping beside a stranger: “What happened to you? Why did you leave me? Where did I fall short? What does she give you that I cannot?” These questions resonate with a universal truth about the nature of betrayal and the deep-seated insecurities that often accompany romantic relationships. Then comes the most wounding question of all: “Can you truly abandon your own children?” These questions belong to no single fictional character; they belong to millions of women across every civilization and every language. Starnone’s portrayal of Vanda’s anguish encapsulates the emotional weight of motherhood, love, and the fear of abandonment, making her struggles deeply relatable.

Every marriage begins with its dazzling newness, then time passes and routine lays down its heavy layers like rust settling over metal. It is at this precise point that the novel’s great dilemma emerges, and Starnone crystallizes it in a single sentence: “Either one changes step and rediscovers the joy of beginnings, or one sentences oneself to the most mournful of habits.” (p. 22) This poignant observation reflects the cyclical nature of relationships, where the initial passion can fade into monotony if not actively nurtured. Starnone invites readers to reflect on their own relationships, urging them to confront the challenges of maintaining connection and intimacy over time.

What lifts “Lacci” into the ranks of true literature is the moment Starnone shifts from the wife’s voice to the husband’s. Just as he plunged into the hidden depths of the woman’s world, he now strips bare the man’s with equal courage, a man torn between a mistress who ignites his days and a wife who holds his history and two children who carry his name; an equation that human experience has proven, time and again, nearly impossible to resolve. This dual perspective enriches the narrative, allowing readers to understand the complexities of male vulnerability and the societal pressures that often dictate their actions. Aldo's internal conflict serves as a mirror to Vanda's pain, illustrating how infidelity can stem from a myriad of factors, including personal dissatisfaction, societal expectations, and the quest for identity.

In the second book, Starnone places the couple before us in old age, on their way to a holiday by the sea, as though the storm has long passed. However, he does not offer us easy happy endings; he offers us truth. The old wounds have settled into the very core of their relationship, coloring every moment between them even decades after the fact. A marriage that receives a shattering blow may heal, but it never returns to what it was, like a broken bone that mends yet keeps its fine, faint line forever. This metaphor poignantly captures the lasting impact of trauma on relationships, suggesting that while healing is possible, the scars remain as a reminder of past pain and loss.

As the narrative unfolds, readers witness the evolution of Vanda and Aldo's relationship, marked by moments of tenderness interspersed with lingering resentment. Starnone's exploration of aging and the passage of time adds another layer of depth to the story, as the couple reflects on their shared history and the choices that led them to this point. Their journey serves as a reminder that love is not merely a feeling but a complex interplay of choices, actions, and consequences.

And when the novel, in its final section, gives its voice to the daughter, now past 40, she and her brother quietly contemplating selling the family home, the reader grasps the full weight of what that old marital storm left behind, its damage rippling across a generation that was never party to the original story. This generational impact highlights the idea that the repercussions of parental choices extend far beyond the immediate family, affecting the lives and relationships of their children. The daughter’s perspective offers a fresh lens through which to view the legacy of her parents' tumultuous relationship, revealing how the past continues to shape their present.

Reading true literature adds to your personal experience years of living you never lived yourself, yet absorb with every sense as though you had. That is the greatness of art: it stakes out a place within the human soul that life alone cannot reach. “Lacci” is a novel that deserves to be read twice, once to understand the other and once to understand yourself. This dual reading experience encourages introspection and empathy, inviting readers to not only engage with the characters' struggles but also to reflect on their own relationships and the complexities of love. Starnone's masterful storytelling serves as a reminder of the power of literature to illuminate the intricacies of the human experience, making “Lacci” a significant contribution to contemporary literature.”}