The Seventh Function of Language

The two Frenchmen move through the streets of Bologna as in a dream. The city is a theater of shadows, furtive silhouettes dancing a strange ballet to a mysterious choreography: students appear suddenly and disappear again behind pillars; junkies and prostitutes loiter under vaulted porches; carabinieri run silently in the background. Simon looks up. Two handsome medieval towers stand over the gate that used to open on the road to byzantine Ravenna, but the second tower leans like the one in Pisa, only more steeply. This is the Severed Tower, the Torre Mezza, placed when it was taller and more menacing by Dante in the last ring of Hell: “As when one sees the tower called Garisenda from underneath its leaning side, and then a cloud passes over and it seems to lean the more.” The star of the Red Brigades decorates the red brick walls. In the distance police whistles can be heard, and partisans chanting. A beggar accosts Bayard to ask him for a cigarette and tells him that there must be a revolution, but Bayard doesn’t understand and walks obstinately on, even though the succession of arches, street after street of them, seems endless to him. Daedalus and Icarus in the country of Italian communism, thinks Simon, seeing the electoral posters stuck to the stone walls and wooden beams. And, of course, among this crowd of ghosts there are the cats, who, as everywhere in Italy, are the city’s true inhabitants.

The window of the Drogheria Calzolari shines in the greasy night. Inside, professors and students drink wine and nibble antipasti. The boss says he’s about to close, but the lively atmosphere suggests the opposite. Enzo and Bianca order a bottle of Manaresi.

A bearded man is telling a funny story; everyone laughs, except for one man in gloves and another holding a bag; Enzo translates for the two Frenchmen: “There’s this uomo, he goes home, at night, he’s completely drunk, but on the way, he meets a nun, with her robe and her hood. So he throws himself at her, and he beats her up. And once he’s given her a good kicking, he picks her up and says: ‘Ma, Batman, I thought you were tougher than that!’” Enzo laughs, and so does Simon. Bayard hesitates.

The bearded guy is talking with a young woman in glasses and a man that Bayard immediately identifies as a professor because he looks like a student, but older. When the bearded guy finishes his glass, he pours himself another from the bottle on the counter, but does not fill the young woman’s and the professor’s empty glasses. Bayard reads the label: Villa Antinori. He asks the waiter if it’s any good. It’s a white from Tuscany, no, it’s not very good, replies the waiter in excellent French. His name is Stefano and he is studying political science. “Here, everyone’s a student and everyone’s political!” he tells Bayard, and adds a toast: “Alla sinistra!” Bayard clinks glasses with him and repeats: “Alla sinistra!” The bar owner looks worried and says: “Piano col vino, Stefano!” Stefano laughs and tells Bayard: “Pay no attention to him, he’s my father.”

The man in gloves demands the release of the philosopher Toni Negri and denounces Gladio, that far-right organization funded by the CIA. “Negri complice delle Brigate Rosse, è altrettanto assurdo che Trotski complice di Stalin!”

Bianca is outraged: “Gli stalinisti stanno a Bologna!”

Enzo goes up to a young woman and tries to guess what she’s studying. He gets it right first time. (Political science.)

Bianca explains to Simon that the Communist Party is very strong in Italy: it has 500,000 members and, unlike in France, it did not hand over its weapons in ’44, hence the phenomenal number of German P38s in circulation in the country. And Bologna the Red is a bit like the Italian Communist Party’s shop window, with its Communist mayor who works for Amendola, the current administration’s representative. “The right wing,” says Bianca, wrinkling her nose in contempt. “That historic compromise bullshit, that’s him.” Bayard sees Simon hanging on her every word, and raises his glass of red toward him: “So, lefty, you like Bologna, eh? Isn’t this better than your dump in Vincennes?” Bianca repeats, eyes shining: “Vincennes … Deleuze!” Bayard asks the waiter, Stefano, if he knows Umberto Eco.

Just then, a hippie in sandals enters, walks straight over to the bearded guy, and taps him on the shoulder. The bearded guy turns around. The hippie solemnly unzips his trousers and pisses on him. The bearded guy reels back, horrified, and everyone starts yelling. There is general confusion, and the hippie is ushered toward the exit by the boss’s son. People crowd around the bearded guy, who moans: “Ma io non parlo mai di politica!” The hippie, before leaving, shouts at him: “Appunto!”