Italian architect and lecturer Gianluca Di Lillo (of no relation to me) has been quietly carving out a name for himself in contemporary crime fiction. Born in 1991 and based in Vitulazio, in the province of Caserta, he first fell in love with the genre at 14 after stumbling across a Carlene Thompson novel on his older sister’s desk. At 29, he took the leap from reader to author, submitting his work to a publisher and going on to release two novels—Non dire il mio nome (2020) and Urlo dal passato (2022). In 2023, his short story Uccidere ad arte marked a turning point in both style and voice, earning the “Campania in penna” prize at the ninth edition of the Naples Book Fair and later being adapted into a Spotify podcast in 2025. He further honed his craft by attending “Pianeta noir” at Scuola Holden with acclaimed writer Grazia Verasani. We caught up to discuss his work.
You entered the world of writing a few years ago, but you’ve already made a name for yourself by winning several awards. Can you tell us why you decided to follow this path and what drives you to be a storyteller?
First of all, I really like that you use the expression “storyteller,” because it best conveys what an author actually does. Everything started with a novel by Carlene Thompson that my sister bought from a second-hand stall and left on the desk. That’s how I began reading mysteries obsessively, later moving to other genres as well. Sketching out a story felt like a natural step, because creativity is part of who I am.
I chose to divide myself between psychological thrillers and noir, but the literary genre is simply something you borrow to better tell the darker facets of our society: from violence to discrimination, from misogyny to xenophobia, from youth hardship to stolen childhoods. For years, I wrote only for myself, in my room, in front of a blank sheet waiting to be filled, without thinking about publication. When the opportunity eventually came, I must admit it wasn’t easy, because writing for others is different—it stirs conflicting emotions. You realize that whatever you write will remain in the reader’s mind, and within the words of a novel or even an ordinary sentence lie your thoughts, your ideals. You strip off your clothes and lay yourself bare, so to speak.
One of your projects is titled Come ogni notte, which made it to the finals at the Dora Nera Festival in Turin. Unlike most of your works, which are mostly mysteries, this one is a noir. Why did you decide to change genres?
I had already explored noir with Uccidere ad arte. At the time, I was working on a new novel, stuck in a sort of stasis, and I was almost starting to hate that story—if I can use an understatement. So I decided to take a break and write something different. Come ogni notte was born in the same way; it started as an experiment and went through several iterations before becoming what eventually placed second at the Dora Nera. As I said earlier, noir is the genre that best fits certain issues: dark atmospheres, turbulent emotions. The true protagonists of noir are never the people, but the places that shape them, the spaces the reader recognizes as their own. More than changing genres, I diversified my writing—maybe because I changed, too.
If I had the right story, tomorrow I could even write a general fiction novel; what matters, in truth, is the story. Literary genres are just one of the many, too many, necessary labels. If a story works, it works regardless of the genre you choose to tell it in.
What are your major influences, and how have they shaped your writing?
I discovered real noir thanks to Grazia Verasani. I was lucky enough to be her student— she’s an extraordinary teacher in the truest sense of the word. Every writer deserves a mentor like her, even on a human level; she’s an author who deeply loves her craft. Her novels featuring Giorgia Cantini are the pure essence of Italian noir. Grazia can describe a city and a striking character in just a few lines and pull you into her world without letting you go.
Donato Carrisi is another brilliant storyteller; The Tribunal of the Souls, which many classify as a thriller, is to me a masterful noir. Notes from a Seller of Women by Faletti is another blend of ingredients that works perfectly: 1970s Milan, ambiguous characters, and a wellcrafted plot, very much in Scerbanenco’s style. I also love the evocative writing of Donatella Di Pietrantonio; her fiction is intense, her settings lived-in. Like her, Ilaria Tuti writes about her homeland with a similarly refined pen. Each of them has influenced my style, but there are many others, like the classic father of noir, Edgar Allan Poe, or contemporary Pierre Lemaitre. Lastly, I wanted to mention a unique storyteller—a filmmaker: David Lynch. There’s always a bit of his Twin Peaks in my stories.
What is your creative process before beginning a book, and what are the obstacles you most often face?
Everything happens naturally; the creative process differs from story to story. Usually I’m very impulsive in writing—I get an idea and I jot it down. Then I dive into a series of research and documentation: articles, interviews, or real stories that can intersect with fiction to help shape settings and characters. I also outline the classic plot structure, but I’ll tell you—the final result is almost always very different. During the writing, the story chooses its own path, and all I can do is follow it. For example, in an unpublished novel of mine, there was a character I wanted to carry over into future books, but at a certain point I had to let him go, because that’s what the plot demanded. Holding on to a character who has nothing left to say is a major limitation, and in series novels, it’s the most common mistake. It’s not productive to cling stubbornly to your own ideas—and I’m a bit stubborn myself. Earlier, I mentioned that I almost hated one of my novels while writing it, after having loved it completely. I kept writing, but I was producing pages I wasn’t convinced of. The simplest and most logical solution in such cases is to stop and find new energy. Eventually, I did, even if late. Writer’s block is common, and an author must learn to accept it.
We live in a time when people read less and are increasingly distracted by technology. What advice would you give to help someone get closer to reading?
Reading is cathartic. Choosing a book—any genre—and flipping through even just one page in the evening helps release the stress we’re subjected to nowadays. Even an ebook works for those who can’t detach from technology. It may sound trivial, but reading is the first step toward improving ourselves and society. Through a novel, you visit places you’ll never go, because they’re far away, or you discover distant cultures. Reading opens new perspectives, breaks down walls and beliefs that are making society harsher. Reading helps us understand something we’ve been struggling to accept lately: nuance. We must move away from the idea of only black and white. Reading and listening are synonyms, even if we use different senses to do them. When we read, we listen to others’ stories—and each of us is a storyteller, of our own story.
Finally, can you give us a hint about your next project? I’ve just finished writing a novel. It tells the story of a place with barely seven thousand inhabitants—the place where my roots lie buried. To do so, I use a female commissioner, an outsider, introverted—not the typical protagonist one easily empathizes with. Lastly, I delve into the fascinating yet complex theme of motherhood. It’s a story I care deeply about and to which I’ve dedicated the last few months. It’s a noir, but I hope it will soon find its own light.
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