Get up! is not a novel, nor is it an academic essay, and it does not claim to teach you how to live. It is a collection of personal reflections, provocative ideas, ironic observations, and a few uncomfortable truths about a society that seems to have lost the joy of thinking for itself.

Get up! is not a novel, nor is it an academic essay, and it does not claim to teach you how to live. It is a collection of personal reflections, provocative ideas, ironic observations, and a few uncomfortable truths about a society that seems to have lost the joy of thinking for itself. From consumerism to indifference, from politics to human relationships—touching on hypocrisy, social media, and the contradictions of everyday life—the book tackles serious topics without sacrificing sarcasm and self-deprecating humor. It offers no definitive answers and doesn’t even claim to always be right. Rather, it invites you to pause, question, smile, and, if possible, start thinking again. Best read in small doses—perhaps while sitting on the toilet, instead of scrolling through your smartphone yet again.

The idea for Get up! has its roots way back in my college years in Lausanne, when I shared an apartment with a friend. The apartment wasn't exactly luxurious, but there was one place I considered almost sacred: the bathroom.
On the shelf under the mirror, there were always two books: *The Communist Manifesto* and *Branchie* by Niccolò Ammaniti. Two very different reads—one more ideological, the other raw and provocative—but both capable of sparking reflection. Back then, I didn’t have a cell phone yet. No notifications, no social media, no algorithms telling me what to think. Just a few minutes of peace and quiet and some pages to read.
Thirty years later, I realized that something had changed. In bathrooms—and not just there—books have practically disappeared. In their place: the smartphone. Even those few moments of solitude have become opportunities to consume information, images, comments, and content that are often forgotten just a few seconds later. From this observation—which at first seemed almost trivial—the idea for Get up! was born.
I wanted to take a book back to the bathroom. But above all, I wanted to write something that could interrupt—even if only for a few minutes—this constant barrage of stimuli. A collection of thoughts born from observing the world, from my experiences, from my contradictions, and from a bit of healthy anger.<br />The title is an invitation to get up. From the throne, of course. But also from indifference, passivity, and the comfort of always letting others do the thinking for us. And if, in the end, someone walks out of the bathroom with one more question—rather than yet another forgotten video—I’ll have already achieved part of my goal.