Rombo

Named for the Calabrian term for the low rumble that precedes earthquakes, Kinsky’s experimental and somewhat rocky outing follows seven Italians from rural Friuli as they recount their lives before and after two devastating earthquakes. Intercut with asides on local plants, birds, and folklore, the resulting pastiche melds the voices of people, nature, and the earth itself into a single chorus. The result is somewhat unfocused, if brilliantly evocative. Despite the multiperspective narration, the speakers are for the most part indistinguishable; without dialogue or identifiable speaking styles, their first-person accounts of growing up in rural poverty (gathering hay in mountain valleys, absentee parents and partners at work abroad) blend together. Kinsky halts the narrative with meandering descriptions of nearby Mount Canin’s chalky faces; the soft, variable colors of limestone; and the local white mountain garlic. Readers willing to contain their interest in traditional storytelling—and to weather the occasionally repetitive interlude—will savor Kinsky’s poetic and dreamlike scenes: a child lulled to sleep by the sounds of a nearby gravel quarry; young shepherds catching vipers in glass jars. Though it can be tedious, it’s hard to deny the beauty of Kinsky’s elegantly wrought sketchbook of rural life. (Mar.)