by Andrea Comincini, Scena Illustrata – July 17, 2024

Le favole del comunismo, the debut work by Anita Likmeta, is certainly not a book written to win popularity contests—especially not in Italy. Here, criticizing the ideas of the cultural elite—the well-heeled salon crowd and their TV cameos—is seen as naïve at best, masochistic at worst, if one hopes to thrive in certain circles. Speak critically of communism, particularly among those who fancy themselves heirs of free and enlightened thought, and you risk being branded a traitor (to whom?). Even those open to dialogue eventually shrug and absolve socialism with a disdainful gesture, as if that’s the only alternative to conservative or fascistic politics, which sadly still linger in this “Beautiful Country.” For those who dare consider the arguments without dismissing them outright, the last refuge is the tired distinction between real socialism and the ideal. But does that distinction truly hold?

Likmeta’s work displays its bravery boldly: it is audacious, even hazardous, addressing a cultural audience largely enchanted by Eastern narratives and polished “scientific” rationales, still dreaming of social rebirth paid for by others. Fairy tales, indeed—and Likmeta plays masterfully on the dual meaning of her title. There is a young girl in Albania whose childhood spanned the tragic shift from the fall of the Berlin Wall to civil war—and she knows. Will anyone listen? Likely not. Yet the author’s gentle, intimate prose renders the violence, pillage, poverty, and essence of regime rule with haunting clarity. Spies, betrayals, Spartan discipline, dehumanization, want—all are seen through the eyes of a remarkably sharp child who will only come to the «diabolical West» later, to begin anew.

Hoxha’s Albania is depicted as a vast prison where homosexuals are crushed, dissenters vanish, and the brutal reign. Italy, too, faces its share of critique—and rightly so. In Milan, amidst wealthy entrepreneurs, novelists from prestigious publishing houses, and high-brow socialites, one encounters another grotesque figure: the anti-capitalist socialist intellectual, dreaming perpetual revolution from atop ultra-tech penthouses, champagne flute in hand, presiding over an open bar—waiting. We might laugh—if the damage weren’t so profound. This dominant cultural meme has wreaked havoc not only on shared historical understanding but on ordinary people, misled by hypocritical rhetoric and trapped in a land burdened by bias and elitism. Anita Likmeta is courageous precisely because she has chosen the harder path—one less likely to earn applause from cashmere-wearing communists with the latest iPhone. And yet Le favole del comunismo remains, bearing witness to an irrevocable historical truth—an uncomfortable repressed past that demands honest reckoning. We cannot advance justice or democracy if we cling to policies headed (often deliberately) toward social catastrophe. We must face reality squarely. As Likmeta herself clarifies: “Someone has chosen to read my novel as what it is not: a political manifesto against something or for something else. My novel is only a novel—and it stands opposed solely to the domination of the strong over the weak. It stands for nothing but freedom. It favors nothing but the awareness that humanity is what it is, and that every small improvement requires collective effort—a painful awareness of reality and its contradictions. I told the fairy tales because I had to stop believing in tales long ago, many years ago.”