Synopsis

In X, Mira brilliantly teases out the contradictions and cyclical patterns that are all too familiar given the widespread sexual violence that still perseveres today. Captured in a story that is consuming, and for many will be eye-opening, but which frustratingly will be a reality for many others. This synthesis of fiction and reality is the remarkable product of Mira’s endeavour to apply mathematical logic to an impossible problem, to locate the X of a treasure that cannot be found, to give meaning to a tragedy that evades definition, and consequently, like the snake that eats its own tail, remains the status quo.

Mira introduces the book, why it is called X, and the events that lead her to write it i.e. the disappearance of her brother, and his decision to side with and believe the fascist friend who raped his sister. From the rape itself to the trauma that follows, the book conveys the brutal yet banal reality and the pain that is amplified by the codes of silence and the behaviour patterns that allow these vicious cycles to continue, eventually drawing even the protagonist into a complicit role. 

The painful trauma of being raped intensifies throughout the book as the protagonist is confronted with paradoxical traps at every turn. From the silence of those who protect the rapist, to the conflict of being scared to tell her hyper-catholic mother, to the period of numbness and apathy that prevents her from sharing with her brother. This struggle is only deepened when G., the rapist, comes to apologise, but only ‘because they were both drunk’. He soon shifts tone and tells her she’d have to prove it, highlighting the typical obstacles rape victims face, and then threatens to ruin her if she reports him. Even hearing a rape reported on the radio, she is reminded of the limited ways rape is portrayed in all media. 

And I think: is G. right? If the newspapers talk about violence only when it is so evident, maybe mine was not violence? He’s right, I am crazy?

The protagonist eventually resorts to self-harm, which will continue for years, although thanks to her mother’s loving response, she does at least find the courage to report the crime. However, despite the police being kind and helpful, later that day she receives a text from the officer who helped her inviting her to dinner.

What makes the book especially compelling is the tragedy of her brother’s betrayal, sharpened by her open letters to him and the bittersweet recollections of their close childhood together, when they found happiness with each other in spite of a father who threatened violence. After seeing her brother with G., she confesses to him what happened and he goes off to confront G. Before he returns, the protagonist recounts tender memories of her brother coming to her defense as children, setting up a sharp contrast as we then learn that her brother returns with G., convinced into believing that he didn’t rape her. 

In the continued letters to her brother, she recounts what she’s done with her life since he’s disappeared. This includes further recurrences of toxicity such as missing out on an internship because she wouldn’t respond to a coordinator’s advances. How even though the coordinator was made to leave, it was all kept silent, and he just moved to another position.

Despite the extreme difficulty of trying to break into journalism and the struggle of working endless temporary jobs, the protagonist eventually gets a job at a newspaper. With a boss who is very friendly and who lets her write about the progressive content she is interested in, she is finally feeling positive. However, the friendliness of her boss gradually turns into unwanted advances. Tortured by the conflict of not wanting to lose the job she worked so hard to get and wanted so much, she makes up excuses and avoids going to work. Ultimately though, after returning, and receiving the direct threat of losing her job, she caves; she has sex with him, becoming complicit in the unbreakable system. However, if society is going to continually violate her, at least this way she can give herself the impression of consent, she can attempt to reverse the violence in her mind and use it to work even - to do good. In a system of contradictions, where nearly every action or choice is rigged, she can at the very least regain autonomy.

Because society rapes you, it's true, over and over again - but it also gives you wine. Poison and antidote from the same hand. And I am no longer the princess in the castle; it is in society that I want to be, without judgment for poisons, which are antidotes, which are poisons. Which are antidotes.

Following this, reflecting on these paradoxes while drinking alone, she grapples with the choice she made alone in a pub and compares herself to her father drinking away his troubles. However, she is then inspired to take a different path to her father - to direct her anger in the face of fear upwards rather than downwards. She then leaves the pub, goes to G.,’s address and with red spray paint, writes ‘RAPIST’ on the front of the house. This then becomes the first small step towards liberation, ultimately leading to her finding the strength to leave her job, to start again with the help of friends who become family. Replacing the brother and friend who betrayed her, who she knows now she can’t negate, but equally, she can accept what happened and move on.

Because the point is this. I, at most, can reveal the presence of the unknown, of the X… I can tell you what rape is… I can tell you why we don’t report it… I can tell you that there are no rotten apples, that the whole orchard is rotten…

But now, brother, it’s up to you. It’s up to all of you. If you guys will want it, if you will have the courage it takes to break a conspiratorial (and, yes, gratuitously violent) silence.

Otherwise, we will do it without you.

Valentina Mira has a degree in Law. She worked as a rider, in a call center and as a waitress while writing for various newspapers and websites, including manifesto and Corriere della Sera. Between 2017 and 2018 she curated the culture page of Romanista. X is her first book.