It’s a morbid curiosity

Marisa Merico: Mafia Prin­cess, Harper Collins publisher, 2010, 324pp.

It’s morbid curiosity. It can’t be anything else. It’s the only explanation that justifies this reader’s attraction to the book Mafia Princess.

It’s the true story of Marisa Merico, daughter of Mafia boss Emilio di Giovine, nicknamed Lupin for his knack at escaping from the authorities.

Marisa relates the story from when her grandmother, the original ‘godfather’ (or godmother in this case), daughter to the Ndrangheta Mafia clan, met her grandfather, moved to Milan, and started one of the biggest drug organisations in Europe.

The idea that women were only seen as the procreators and house makers in the macho mafia world is proved erroneous by this autobiography. For it was Grandma who called the shots, bribed the authorities and organised the drug trafficking. All this, in between lasagne dishes and ironing her sons’ shirts.

Marisa’s portrayal of the criminal family is interesting to say the least. Her home was not austere, dark or cold, instead it was filled to the brim with laughter and noise. She had the best clothes, rode in the best cars and lived like a princess for all intents and purposes.

But as in every fairy story, there was evil lurking in the shadow. Marisa talks about how she adored her often absent father, how she sought him persistently and how with him she felt happiest.

Like Marisa, Emilio was also unrelenting in his incessant need to quench his thirst for money, which in turn brought power. Marisa became a drug mule for her dad, smuggling large quantities of drugs. She was happy because her father approved, and Emilio was happy because he was getting richer.

Then it all went downhill from there. The princess fell from grace and hit the bottom with a great big thud. She paid for her crimes, as did most of the De Giovine family.

Merico relates the story exactly as it was; there is no cry for pity, she doesn’t try to blame her downfall on anyone. The only instance where one feels resentment is when she talks about fellow prisoners and relates how some of the worst kind of criminals like child molesters and serial killers were treated with less apprehension then she was.

Mafia Princess sheds a light on the intricacies of the mafia webs. It is about corrupt systems upon which democracies are laid. It shows how one decision can cause a domino effect of consequences.

But it is mostly about a woman seeking a second chance at life; a woman who made mistakes, has paid the price and is fighting to move on.

It was nothing but morbid curiosity that drew me in. The curiosity that has turned Mafia from a criminal syndicate to a literary genre. I was expecting extraordinary people, but what I got was the most ordinary, and this is even scarier.

One realises that what is scary isn’t the godfather image we have in our heads, but the normal-looking grandma, baking cookies and knitting. Behind the facade may be a drug lord – or worse.

One thing is certain, I will never look at endearing old ladies in quite the same way again.