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A publishing phenomenon,
a literary event,
a masterpiece of faith and love
THE DIARY OF AN ANGEL
The real author of this book writes from the world of the spirit. Emilio Crispo
lived on this earth for twenty-nine years. He was a sweet child, lively, intelligent,
a ray of sunlight. He was a sportsman who won brilliant honours in the world
of sailing, a talented and sensitive pianist. Then he chose to become a doctor:
after graduating very young, he became a vascular surgeon.
He had already achieved all these ambitions in this world, when an unexplainable
road accident, one of those with all the features of an “appointment” took
him to heaven. But he has not been lost, The Diary of an Angel is
the true chronicle of the life he continues to lead in eternity, in a spiritual
dimension which does not prevent his spirit from pervading our day to day life
on earth with its presence. This volume is written by the astonished hands
of mamma and papà, who materially hold the pen, but, according to them,
the pen moves independently; it is not moved by their thoughts nor by their
wills. Could it be true? It is not our task to invade the paranormal sphere,
but, precisely because our ‘worldly’ analysis contemplates literature,
it is from a literary viewpoint that this book has captured our attention,
Not only because, after only one year from its publication, it has run to four
editions (fourteen now) and is considered a literary phenomenon, but above
all, because ‘The diary of an angel’ offers us
many suggestions for critical reflection. Accustomed as we are to
placing a book on the right shelf, according to a certain type of classification,
this book already creates uncertainty. Is it a theological treatise,
science fiction, new age? It is none of these. It clearly follows
a narrative vein which recounts, day by day, the family life of the three main
characters. Father, mother and son tell the story of a year in their lives,
from the day when the son, Emilio, goes away, to heaven. But not only this,
the chief character is God Himself, who united them as a family and had no
intention that death should separate them.
The book immediately addresses the paths of a life together which crosses,
without inhibition, the material diaphragm between life and death until it
raises the reasonable doubt that this diaphragm is merely a suggestion. The
events follow each other insistently and draw the reader into a vortex of curiosity,
of emotional participation and loving involvement. The story is told
by three voices: the father, a well-known doctor, who is not afraid of appearing
a tender and emotional ‘papà’; the mother who wishes to
appear as a mother and nothing else; the author, Emilio Crispo,
remains what he is — a young man, pleasant, bright, an extrovert, full
of love for this parents, his friends, for everyone. He get us to ‘all
kinds of pranks’ until it is impossible to think of anyone more alive
than he; and if being alive means producing activity, then the
writing of this book is a real proof that Emilio is alive.
Who else could it be but him? We have already said that the tale is told by
three voices, the picture on the book-sleeve emphasises the passage from one
hand to another, both in order to give a detailed picture of every aspect of
the narration, and to exclude any possibility of misunderstanding. So it is
even more astonishing to see how the work, as a whole, notwithstanding the
well-defined difference in language and expressiveness, becomes harmonious
and the narrative flows in perfect unison.
As the events gradually unfold and we witness a crescendo, which
sometimes becomes vertiginous, it is extremely difficult to imagine any other
origin than that which has been declared. This origin is heaven
itself. But also the earthly sphere takes wing, and becomes an intensified
experience of ‘living’ life. No-one indulges in a visionary fantasy
of an abstract and unapproachable reality.
We are, therefore, faced with an extremely valuable literary event, which from
a human viewpoint leaves very little space for flattery towards the author
of a masterpiece. Where faith is concerned, however, the angel who
is writing his diary offers us every chance to overcome the banality of mystery,
and to appreciate the simplicity and immediacy which only the language of art
is able to offer. We do not always recognise it as a miracle, but
this time, and openly, we may thank God Himself.
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