Another review of You'll never have me like you want me

I found this on Goodreads.

You’ll never have me like you want me, a novel by Rose Romano

Contrary to popular belief, not every book written by an Italian-American living in Italy, about an Italian-American living in Italy, is about going back to Italy to look for heritage.
In this novel, written in the form of a journal kept by Emilia, Emilia goes to live in Italy because, as she says, she wants to live in the only country in the world where it’s normal to be Italian. Why does she want to live in the only country in the world where it’s normal to be Italian? There are a lot of Italians who don’t want to live in the only country in the world where it’s normal to be Italian.

Emilia wants to be wanted and that’s all she wants and all she’s ever wanted. No one has ever wanted her, not even her parents. I guess she figured that, as an Italian-American, she might have a better chance of fitting in in Italy. After all, Italian is what you are and American is just where you live. And fitting in means you’re wanted.

But Italy doesn’t want her, either. Most of the Italians she meets keep insisting that her name has to be Emily, and not Emilia. By not allowing her an Italian name, they’re telling her she must be American, which means she’s not Italian, which means they don’t want her.

Her social workers don’t want her, her psychiatrist doesn’t want her, potential bosses don’t want her, potential friends don’t want her, her roommates don’t want her, the volunteers who work with the crazy people don’t want her. It doesn’t take long before her boyfriend doesn’t want her.

But she gets what she wants in the end. If the ending of this novel really happened in real life, I’d say it was a horrible, terrible thing to happen. But, in this novel, I’d say it’s a happy ending.

Romano does a lot of little things in this book that I like, such as the names of the characters. Maybe Silvio was named after Berlusconi—that would suit his character. Or maybe I’m just getting carried away—maybe Romano just wanted a name that starts with the letter S. Mrs. Spigliato was her first social worker; her name means self-confident, self-possessed. (I’d call her arrogant and unfeeling.) One day, Emilia, tired of Mrs. Spigliato always calling her Emily, makes a mistake and calls her social worker Mrs. Spigoloso, which means angular (furniture), difficult (person). Emilia says, “Mrs. Spigliato, because her appearance was neither here nor there, was a little difficult to describe. I have no idea how to describe Mrs. Mordimi because she’s invisible.” Mrs. Mordimi is her second social worker and she really is invisible. She’s never seen—she’s never there when Emilia needs her, not in the way Emilia needs her, and her name means: bite me.

Another little thing is that most of the characters are described as animals. Roberto is a wolf. Mrs. Spigliato is a horse. Doctor Bologni is a penguin. Silvio, a former member of ′Ndrangheta, is an eagle. Sandra, the most unreal character, is a teddy bear.

The Virgin Mary, one of the characters, likes to wear t-shirts and sweatshirts with slogans on them. Of course, she’s got a t-shirt that says: You’ll never have me like you want me. My favorite is her sweatshirt that says: The truth doesn’t give a flying fuck whether you believe it or not.

Emilia, who doesn’t understand much about Italian politics, explains Italian politics to us. Usually when people explain something they don’t understand, they make it sound boring, but Emilia makes it sound as ridiculous as it really is.

Emilia gives some of the reasons that it’s cheaper and easier to live in the United States than it is to live in Italy. For example, if you quit going to the university before you get your degree, and then “. . . you decide, five years later, ten years later, twenty years later, that you want to go back to the university and finish up your degree—Surprise! In order to get back into the university, you have to pay all the taxes and fees you would have been paying if you had been attending the university for those five, ten or twenty years. In other words, you have to pay thousands of euros and you get absolutely nothing for it.” Public grammar schools and high schools don’t lend the students textbooks for free; the parents have to buy them. And Italy is the only country in the world where you have to pay, maybe even more than 200 euros, to close a bank account. (I found out somewhere else that closing a bank account can take as long as two weeks.)

The Italian-American flag, used in the cover illustration, and flown upside down as a distress signal, is an original design created by Rose Romano.

It’s an unusual little book and I think it needs to be read.