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An Interview with Italian cli-fi short story writer Aldo Meschiari, author of his debut collection of stories titled "Climate Fiction: Racconti di Fantascienza Climatica"
Dan Bloom: Are you a meteorologist in Italy? Independent? Or do you work for TV?
Aldo Meschiari: I’m a high school teacher in Modena, Italy and I'm 49 years old. I am a geography teacher, but also I can teach literature and history.
SEE LINK BELOW:
SEE LINK BELOW:
2. What inspired you to start writing short stories about Climate? Why?
Because I love to study about climate,and I work for web forecast weather newspaper.
3. What are your favorite stories in your book? Titles? Themes?
My favorite story is ''Il pastore dei ghiacciai,'' (The glacier shepherd). It is a story of a man who tries to save a Italian glacier.
4. Are your stories cli-fi or sci-fi or hybrid of both genres?
I suppose it is a hybrid of both genres.
5. In Italy, is the media there paying attention to global warming? Yes no?
Yes, a lot.
6. Have you heard of cli-fi term before? How did you hear about it? Do you like the term?
Yes, I read Michael Crichton's 2004 cli-fi novel titled ''State of Fear'' and I read a lot of Sci-Fi.
7. In Italy Bruno Arpaia wrote a cli-fi novel. "Somwhere, out there " as the title. Do you know his name?
Yes, but I didn’t read his book yet.
8. How will you promote your book? Tv interviews, radio, newspapers, websites, blogs?
Websites, newspapers, social networks, blogs…
9. Will you translate yr stories one day to Spanish or French or German for European readers? Any plans?
It would be great to translate the stories into English, but I don’t know how at this moment…
10. Which short story writers in Italy do you admire and why?
I love Calvino, Levi and Pirandello.
11. What else do you want to say to american readers about your book?
I hope one day my book of short stories will be will be translated to English.
'' I started writing these stories by reading books on climatology.
Often between the apparently boring and extremely technical lines of the technical texts on the climate, suddenly appears a utopian scenario, a veritable spectacle of a hypothetical and probably unrealizable future.
Then it is up to you to write, or rather to describe this climate scenario.
Naturally, without any ambition of scientific coherence or objective reliability, in the purest tradition of science fiction, these stories were born.
That not only will I hope you will enjoy it, but also that, among other things, they encourage you to reflect on some of the most burning contradictions of our age, not only of a purely weather-climatic nature.''
As a special bonus, here is the Italian version of Aldo's short story "The Glacier Shepherd," which this blogger is translating to English now and will post here.
https://www.meteogiornale.it/notizia/51740-1-climate-fiction-esce-lebook-rinnovato-dei-racconti-di-fantascienza-climatica
''THE GLACIER SHEPHERD'', a short story in Italian by author Aldo Meschiari
Tarcisio reaches the glacier just when the last rays of Sun reverberate on the ice and wet snow, and his eyes are blinded by the sudden light. Valletta is a huge summer burning mirror capable of reflecting most of the Sun's rays,but not to withstand temperatures that slowly if they are eating. Supports the Backpack on wet rocks, and begins his work. Like a sower in spring, drop precisely and calculates the contents of the backpack. The crushed ice slowly coversa small part of the Snowfield, which almost seems reborn to his touch.
There are now ten years that Tarcisio accomplishes, in hot weather, his tireless work. Study every winter the amount of snowfall on the mountains, and when you can go to observe the snowy friend sinking with his rackets in the whiteness of the snow. Despite not having studied, despite not knowing the elements of science climatology, knows when a winter has been prolific or when lack of snow will threaten the Snowfield on the arrival of summer.
His work at food factory doesn't like, say he needs to live.But still managed to make it profitable. In fact every daylarge amounts of shredded ice, for use in the preservationof food, are abandoned on the pavement in front of thebuilding, because they dissolve in water. Tarcisio takessome Quintal, load it on a truck, and carries it up there,where will merge with the eternal snows of Montasio.Despite not having studied, knows that the true weakness ofglaciers is represented by the dark color, which in summertakes possession of ice soiled atmospheric impurities andloose rocks. This black ice becomes much more vulnerableto sunlight, and therefore its merger greatly accelerates. Inthis way, given the increasingly mild and summers wintersincreasingly fiercely hot, the Snowfield of Montasio woulddisappear in a few years. But holding in a rational way and keep the small Icefield will cool and stark white ice slow exponentially its merger.
''THE GLACIER SHEPHERD'', a short story in Italian by author Aldo Meschiari
Il pastore dei ghiacciai
(c) 2018 Aldo Meschiari
Le prime ombre della sera iniziano ad oscurare le valli delle Alpi Giulie. Tarcisio si lava le mani nervosamente, cercando di eliminare quell’odore di cibi surgelati troppo intenso. Sa che deve fare presto; non ha molto tempo per preparare il suo fuoristrada, una vecchia camionetta scassata, e per salire fino al Montasio. Di questa stagione il sole tramonta tardi, ma le cose da fare sono tante. E se dovesse essere sorpreso dal buio non avrebbe altra scelta che rimandare a domani il lavoro. Chissà con quali conseguenze! Frettolosamente si cambia d’abito, togliendosi la tuta da lavoro della fabbrica di surgelati, una delle più importanti del Friuli. Carica i sacchi precedentemente preparati con cura. E finalmente si mette alla guida verso l’altopiano. Non gli ci vorranno meno di 40 minuti, se tutto va bene.
Mentre guida ripercorre con la mente i gesti oramai consolidati della sua quotidiana missione. La giornata è stata molto calda, anche per questo lembo nord-orientale dell’Italia, famoso per le piogge e per il freddo intenso. E quindi non si può perdere tempo prezioso. Qui le gelide correnti arrivano direttamente dalle immense pianure russe e ucraine, dopo aver attraversato la regione carpatico-danubiana. È la Bora, che ti pela le mani e ti congela il viso. E solo qui, infatti, può ancora sopravvivere, in piena epoca di riscaldamento globale, uno dei ghiacciai più bassi d’Europa.
Oddio, definirlo ghiacciaio è certo eccessivo. Diciamo una vedretta, una piccola lingua di neve congelata e ghiaccio sporco, che però resiste stoicamente agli impietosi attacchi dei raggi di un sole sempre più rovente. Retaggio di epoche ben più fredde e nevose, il nevaio del Montasio è praticamente ignorato da tutti, compresi esperti e appassionati naturalisti ed alpinisti. Difficile da raggiungere, arduo da individuare, ma soprattutto brutto a vedersi, viene quindi placidamente trascurato da carte escursionistiche e da guide turistiche.
Ma per Tarcisio i giudizi sprezzanti di chi preferisce i grandi bacini glaciali delle Alpi centrali ed occidentali sono assolutamente irrilevanti. Per lui è e sempre sarà il ghiacciaio del Montasio, fattogli conoscere dal nonno casaro quando era solo bambino e meta delle sue scorribande adolescenziali sui monti giuliani, tra il maestoso massiccio rosato del Canin e l’imponente piramide rocciosa del Mangart. Tutti monti poco alti se confrontati colle cime delle Alpi centro-occidentali, coi loro 2600, massimo 2700 metri. Ma continuamente spazzati e frustati dai venti siberiani da divenire così selvaggi da sembrare usciti miracolosamente indenni dalle tre rivoluzioni industriali.
La vecchia camionetta risale le ultime erte della stretta strada che da Sella Nevea, a 1200 metri, si arrampica sui tornanti che conducono all’area degli alpeggi del Montasio. Tarcisio prova sempre un male fisico quando è costretto a passare per Sella, attraversando gli sfregi bituminosi che l’uomo ha inferto ad uno dei luoghi più affascinanti dell’arco alpino. Di fronte a quei residence immensi e mostruosi gira la testa, e pigiando sull’acceleratore concentra tutta la sua attenzione sul suo dovere.
Raggiunto l’altipiano, lo attende la parte più ardua. Si carica sulle spalle almeno 40 chili di zaino e nella fresca serata alpina inizia ad arrampicarsi sui sentieri del monte. A dir la verità la strada non è lunga, poco più di venti minuti; ma è una ripida salita e con un bel fardello sulle spalle. Tarcisio è uomo di montagna, non lo spaventano certo gli scoscesi sentieri rocciosi immersi nelle praterie brucate dalla vacche e dalle capre. Qualche pastore, magari sloveno o bosniaco, lo guarda incuriosito e sprezzante: un altro di quei pazzi turisti italiani!
Tarcisio raggiunge la vedretta proprio quando gli ultimi raggi del sole riverberano sul ghiaccio e sulla neve bagnata, e i suoi occhi vengono accecati da quella luce improvvisa. La valletta è un enorme specchio ustorio, d’estate, in grado di riflettere la maggior parte dei raggi solari, ma non di resistere alle temperature elevate che lentamente se la stanno mangiando. Appoggia lo zaino sulle rocce bagnate, ed inizia il suo lavoro. Come un seminatore a primavera, getta in modo preciso e calcolato il contenuto dello zaino. Il ghiaccio tritato lentamente ricopre una piccola parte del nevaio, che sembra quasi rinascere al suo contatto.
Velocemente ridiscende il sentiero e con altri 40 kg di ghiaccio tritato sulle spalle lo risale, instancabile. Compie questa azione anche quattro volte ogni sera. Ed ogni sera insemina una porzione del nevaio, seguendo un preciso disegno, un progetto che prevede una rotazione regolare, quasi come quella delle sementi nei campi. E dopo ogni sera, il nevaio appare ricoperto di fazzoletti di ghiaccio di diverse età, più o meno bianchi, come quando si osserva da un aeroplano in fase di atterraggio la campagna, tutta quadrettata di diverse tonalità di verde o di marrone, a seconda della coltivazione. Si siede oramai al tramonto del sole, esausto. Ed osserva il ghiacciaio che riprende fiato dopo l’ennesima canicola estiva. Rimane un attimo con lui, e poi ridiscende a valle.
Sono ormai dieci anni che Tarcisio compie, durante la stagione calda, questo suo instancabile lavoro. Studia ogni inverno la quantità delle neve caduta sui monti, e quando è possibile va ad osservare l’amico innevato sprofondando con le sue racchette nel candore della neve fresca. Pur non avendo studiato, pur non conoscendo gli elementi della scienza climatologia, sa perfettamente quando un inverno è stato prolifico o quando invece la scarsità di neve metterà in pericolo il nevaio all’arrivo dell’estate.
Il suo lavoro alla fabbrica di alimentari non gli piace, diciamo che gli serve per vivere. Ma è riuscito comunque a renderlo proficuo. Infatti ogni giorno grandi quantità di ghiaccio triturato, destinato alla conservazione degli alimenti, vengono abbandonate sull’asfalto di fronte all’edificio, perché si sciolgano in acqua. Tarcisio ne prende qualche quintale, lo carica sulla camionetta, e lo trasporta lassù, dove si fonderà con le nevi eterne del Montasio. Pur non avendo studiato, sa benissimo che il vero punto debole dei ghiacciai è rappresentato dal colore scuro, che in estate si impossessa del ghiaccio sporcato dalle impurità atmosferiche e dalle rocce friabili. Questo ghiaccio nero diviene molto più vulnerabile alla luce del sole, e quindi la sua fusione accelera notevolmente. In questo modo, visti gli inverni sempre più miti e le estati sempre più ferocemente torride, il nevaio del Montasio sparirebbe in pochi anni. Ma ricoprendo in modo razionale e continuo il piccolo nevaio con ghiaccio fresco e bianchissimo si rallenta in modo esponenziale la sua fusione.
È come se ogni sera nevicasse sul Montasio. Come se una leggera spolverata di neve polverosa scendesse sull’antica vedretta a ridarle fiato. Gli stessi animali hanno iniziato a riconoscere questo strano evento meteo. E i gracchi e le poiane si posano al fresco della vedretta, che si imbianca ogni sera di neve che non scende dall’alto.
Un giorno gli scienziati sono tornati quassù sicuri di constatare la totale scomparsa dell’ultima vedretta alpina sotto i 2.000 metri, e sono rimasti sbigottiti. Il piccolo ghiacciaio è ancora lì, dopo dieci anni non è arretrato di un metro. Anzi, sembra più in salute, quasi in leggero avanzamento. Come è possibile che tutti i ghiacciai alpini siano in forte regresso, e questo, posto tra l’altro così in basso, reagisca in questo modo?
Tarcisio è poco lontano da loro. Se ne sta seduto su una roccia, a guardare il suo amico di ghiaccio. Aspetta solo che gli intrusi se ne tornino in città a studiare questo evento miracoloso, per poter riprendere il suo lavoro. Il pastore dei ghiacciai sa che non deve perdere tempo. Una nuova afosa estate si avvicina.
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ENGLISH TRANSLATION by A.I. MACHINE:
The first shadows of evening are beginning to darken the valleys of the Julian Alps. Tarcisio washes his hands nervously, trying to get rid of that odor of frozen foods that was too intense. He knows that he must hurry; and doesn't have much time to prepare his beat-up old Jeep, off road, and to rise up with Montasio cheese. This season the sun sets late, but there are so many things to do. And should he be surprised by darkness he would not have any choice but to put off til tomorrow the work. Who knows with what consequences! Hastily changing clothes, taking off the overalls of frozen food factory, one of the most important. Loads the previously prepared bags carefully. And finally gets to drive towards the plateau. It will take him less than 40 minutes, if all goes well.
While driving with my mind retraces the actionsconsolidated its daily mission now. The day was very hot,even for the north-eastern part of Italy, famous for the rainsand the intense cold. And so you can not lose valuable time.Here the icy currents come directly from the large Russianand Ukrainian Plains, the Carpathian-Danubian aftercrossing the region. Is the Bora, which lets you freeze yourhands and face peels. And only here can still survive, in the heyday of global warming, one of the lowest glaciers in Europe.
While driving with my mind retraces the actionsconsolidated its daily mission now. The day was very hot,even for the north-eastern part of Italy, famous for the rainsand the intense cold. And so you can not lose valuable time.Here the icy currents come directly from the large Russianand Ukrainian Plains, the Carpathian-Danubian aftercrossing the region. Is the Bora, which lets you freeze yourhands and face peels. And only here can still survive, in the heyday of global warming, one of the lowest glaciers in Europe.
Oh dear, it is certainly excessive glacier. Let's say a vedretta,a little tongue of frozen snow and dirty ice, but resistsstoically to merciless attacks by the rays of a Sun growingmore red-hot. Legacy of times colder and snow, Snowfield of Montasio is virtually ignored by everyone, including expertsand enthusiasts naturalists and hikers. Hard to reach, hardto locate, but especially ugly to look at, then placidlyoverlooked by hiking maps and guides.
But for those who prefer large scornful of Tarcisio judgments basins of Central and Western Alps areabsolutely irrelevant. For him the Montasio glacier is andalways will be, to know him by his grandfather when it wasonly half of his child and dairyman raids between majesticmountains giuliani adolescent rosato of Canin and the imposing Rocky pyramid of Mangart. All mounts little highcompared to Western-Central Alps Hill, 2600, 2700 metreswith their maximum. But continually vacuumed andwhipped by Siberian winds became so wild as to seemexited uninjured by the three industrial revolutions.
But for those who prefer large scornful of Tarcisio judgments basins of Central and Western Alps areabsolutely irrelevant. For him the Montasio glacier is andalways will be, to know him by his grandfather when it wasonly half of his child and dairyman raids between majesticmountains giuliani adolescent rosato of Canin and the imposing Rocky pyramid of Mangart. All mounts little highcompared to Western-Central Alps Hill, 2600, 2700 metreswith their maximum. But continually vacuumed andwhipped by Siberian winds became so wild as to seemexited uninjured by the three industrial revolutions.
The old Jeep back the latest steep narrow road from Sella Nevea, at 1200 meters, climbs on the curves leading to the Alpine area of Montasio. Tarcisio always try a physical harmwhen he is forced to go to Saddle, crossing the scarsinflicted by man bituminous to one of the most fascinatingplaces in the Alps. Faced with those huge and monstrousresidence dizzy, and pressing on the acceleratorconcentrates all his attention on his duty.
Reached the plateau, the hardest part lies ahead. You loadon your shoulders at least 40 pounds of fresh alpine evening and backpack starts to climb on the trails of Mount.To be honest the street is not long, just over twenty minutes; but it's a steep climb and with quite a burden on your shoulders. Tarcisio is mountain man, don't scare him certainly the steep rocky paths immersed in the Prairies picked from cows and goats. Any pastor, maybe Slovenian or Bosnian, looks intrigued and scornful: another one of those crazy Italians!
Reached the plateau, the hardest part lies ahead. You loadon your shoulders at least 40 pounds of fresh alpine evening and backpack starts to climb on the trails of Mount.To be honest the street is not long, just over twenty minutes; but it's a steep climb and with quite a burden on your shoulders. Tarcisio is mountain man, don't scare him certainly the steep rocky paths immersed in the Prairies picked from cows and goats. Any pastor, maybe Slovenian or Bosnian, looks intrigued and scornful: another one of those crazy Italians!
Tarcisio reaches the glacier just when the last rays of Sun reverberate on the ice and wet snow, and his eyes are blinded by the sudden light. Valletta is a huge summer burning mirror capable of reflecting most of the Sun's rays,but not to withstand temperatures that slowly if they are eating. Supports the Backpack on wet rocks, and begins his work. Like a sower in spring, drop precisely and calculates the contents of the backpack. The crushed ice slowly coversa small part of the Snowfield, which almost seems reborn to his touch.
Quickly back down the trail and with other 40 kg of crushed ice on the shoulders the dates, indefatigable. Performs this action even four times every night. And every evening inseminates a portion of Snowfield, following a precise plan,a project that provides a smooth rotation, almost like that of seeds in the fields. And after each night, the ice field is covered by ice towels of different ages, more or less white,as when you look from an airplane while landing the campaign, all squared of different shades of green or Brown, depending on the crop. It sits now at sunset,exhausted. And observe the glacier which incorporates breath after yet another summer heat wave. It remains a moment with him, and then goes back down into the Valley.
There are now ten years that Tarcisio accomplishes, in hot weather, his tireless work. Study every winter the amount of snowfall on the mountains, and when you can go to observe the snowy friend sinking with his rackets in the whiteness of the snow. Despite not having studied, despite not knowing the elements of science climatology, knows when a winter has been prolific or when lack of snow will threaten the Snowfield on the arrival of summer.
His work at food factory doesn't like, say he needs to live.But still managed to make it profitable. In fact every daylarge amounts of shredded ice, for use in the preservationof food, are abandoned on the pavement in front of thebuilding, because they dissolve in water. Tarcisio takessome Quintal, load it on a truck, and carries it up there,where will merge with the eternal snows of Montasio.Despite not having studied, knows that the true weakness ofglaciers is represented by the dark color, which in summertakes possession of ice soiled atmospheric impurities andloose rocks. This black ice becomes much more vulnerableto sunlight, and therefore its merger greatly accelerates. Inthis way, given the increasingly mild and summers wintersincreasingly fiercely hot, the Snowfield of Montasio woulddisappear in a few years. But holding in a rational way and keep the small Icefield will cool and stark white ice slow exponentially its merger.
It's as if every night it would snow on Montasio. As if a light dusting of snow descended on the ancient references to give breath. The same animals have begun to recognize this strange weather event. And the gracchi and the buzzards roost in the cool of the glacier, which whitens every night of snow that falls from above.
One day scientists are back up here sure to note the total disappearance of the last Alpine glacier below 2,000 metres, and they were dismayed. The small glacier is still there, after ten years is not set back by one meter. On the contrary, it seems healthier, almost slight progress. How is it possiblethat all Alpine glaciers are in sharp decline, and this, among other things so low, react in this way?
Tarcisio is not far from them. He's sitting on a rock, looking at his friend. Just wait till the intruders if they come back to town to study this miraculous event, in order to resume his work. The sherpherd of the glaciers knows not to waste time. A new sultry summer approaches.
One day scientists are back up here sure to note the total disappearance of the last Alpine glacier below 2,000 metres, and they were dismayed. The small glacier is still there, after ten years is not set back by one meter. On the contrary, it seems healthier, almost slight progress. How is it possiblethat all Alpine glaciers are in sharp decline, and this, among other things so low, react in this way?
Tarcisio is not far from them. He's sitting on a rock, looking at his friend. Just wait till the intruders if they come back to town to study this miraculous event, in order to resume his work. The sherpherd of the glaciers knows not to waste time. A new sultry summer approaches.
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