Stefano Benni, master of Italian satire, dies

He was one of Italy's most hilarious and lucid writers. Stefano Benni, master of satire and tragicomic fantasy , has died at the age of 78. The Bolognese writer, journalist, and playwright had been withdrawn from public life for years due to an illness that this Tuesday brought an end to one of the most beloved and unique voices in contemporary Italian literature. The news unleashed a chorus of farewells that speak of gratitude and shared laughter.

From the debut of ' Bar Sport ' (1976), a comic x-ray of the neighborhood bar turned into a universal planet, to the epic and riotous breath of ' La compagnia dei Celestini ' (1992), his literature carved out a territory of its own: a map of impossible places, memorable creatures and a mischievous language made up of neologisms, puns and parodies that disarmed solemnity. In that hybrid register, somewhere between farce, fable and satire, he achieved something rare: making the popular and the literary, the childlike and the political, walk hand in hand.

His imagination was never about escapism. Beneath the joke lay civic conscience; behind the absurdity, social criticism. ' Terra! ' (1983) essayed a comic apocalypse that sounds premonitory today; ' Elianto ' (1996) depicted a country controlled by a central machine while groups of resisters defended joy; ' Il bar sotto il mare ' (1987) transformed an underwater café into a choral theater of twenty-three stories and as many metaphors for life. In all of them, compassion for the losers and an allergy to rhetoric. "I'm neither funny nor solemn," he said, acknowledging that his irony "helps us dream... and make some dreams come true."

He was also a journalist with a keen eye (L'Espresso, Panorama, Il Manifesto, La Repubblica, Linus), a screenwriter, and a man of the theater. He wrote texts for the comedian Beppe Grillo in his early days and, alongside Umberto Angelucci, brought to the screen 'Musica per vecchi animali' (1989) with Dario Fo and Paolo Rossi: another piece of mischief to remind us that laughter can be resistance. His biography is full of emotional alliances: his complicity with Daniel Pennac, whom he helped land in Italy, jazz musicians, and the actors who made his plays their own. He was also recognized outside Italy for the uniqueness of his literary universe.

Born in Bologna on August 12, 1947, and raised among the landscapes of the Apennine Mountains, he chose as his talisman a nickname, "Il Lupo" (The Wolf), which evoked nights howling with his dogs and a proud independence. This anecdote, as peculiar as his stories, perfectly sums up his spirit: solitary, rebellious, and indomitable. His biography, as he himself confessed with his usual irony, was largely fabricated, "a way of defending my privacy." However, what is certain is that from his beginnings as a journalist, his sharp pen and satirical eye already revealed the hypocrisies of society. That wolf also served as a stubborn citizen: he defended public schools, fought against mediocrity, and preferred the margins to the showcase. Last June, his city celebrated him with a marathon reading of "Stranalandia": proof that his creations live on in the collective imagination.

The farewell came in his Bologna home, after a long illness. His son, Niclas, has asked to remember him as he would have liked: reading aloud, sharing stories with friends, children, and lovers, "an army of readers" capable of drawing "a great laugh from up above." There could be no more fitting tribute to a writer who turned language into a playground and laughter into a refuge from the sadness of the world.