Volcanic Airs

 

Volcanic Airs / Elizabeth Pewsey
London: Sceptre, 1996.
336 p.

In this fourth book in the Mountjoy series, Pewsey takes the now familiar Eyotshire characters out of their usual surroundings - and it all starts with Thomas, one of the younger Mountjoys who is running away from his dreadful boarding school. He flees England with his little bit of money, heading toward the Sicilian home of a pianist who he'd met briefly in the past who had kindly invited the family to stay 'someday'. 

When his flight is discovered, it throws his family into an upset, and it's his stepmother who tracks him down and heads to Sicily to fetch him. She ends up staying for a while, amongst the many characters who follow. It's not a great escape from the Eyotshire troubles, as more of those involved in the drama trickle south and wash up alongside them. 

It's a great setting, with some new and fresh characters (one particularly funny portrait is drawn of a composer known as 'Discordant Mordaunt', who insists that melody is passé and only noise is music - with surprising secrets, of course). I was reading this in June, and found it interesting that one of the characters remarked that the volcano (Etna) was steaming but of course no chance of eruptions from that one. Timely commentary! 

As usual, a lot of the story revolves around romantic pairings and preferences, as well as family dynamics. The most grounded character is the nanny Dido, who previously worked in the sex trade but has gravitas, sense, and great rapport with children. The most high-strung, on the other hand, are the rich and educated musicians and eccentrics in the narrative.

Some of the commentary feels quite old-fashioned now, especially the portrayal of Valdemar Mountjoy (a real bully but one of the main characters) who is a womanizer and a terrible father. We are apparently supposed to feel some sympathy for him in the end. 

In any case, there is much to amuse in this one, with both pointed satire and some warmer, kinder scenes, in which a change of locale from the misty north to Sicily seems to bring on some self-reflection. I liked the setting and the varied characters, all with different personalities and responses to their adventure. Definitely a great summer read. 

The Florios of Sicily

 

The Florios of Sicily / Stefania Auci
trans. from the Italian by Katharine Gregor
NY: Harper Via, 2020, c2019
304 p.

This Italian family saga was a bestseller in Italy, and it's definitely a dramatic and entertaining read. It follows the Florios as they move to Sicily, run a spice and import business, grow their business despite many obstacles, face family tragedies and political issues -- basically climb their way up across a couple of generations from peasants to wealthy business owners with societal caché.

I enjoyed the structure of the book, which helped the reader along; each section is named after a product that expands the Florio business, and begins with a note of the specific dates this portion is set in, and a brief intro outlining the social and political state of Sicily at that moment. There was a lot of movement between French and Neapolitan rulers, independence and constitutions and the like at this time, so these historical notes (which read dramatically) were useful. 

The heart of the book is the Florios themselves, though; the original brothers Paolo and Ignazio, Paolo's wife Guiseppina and their child Vincenzo. The family grows in wealth and influence as the years go by, but also find that they can't overcome their beginnings as "labourers" in the eyes of longtime Palermo businessmen. Also, Vincenzo in particular becomes obsessed with joining the nobility but never quite succeeds in marrying up. He'll have to leave that to his own son Ignazio. 

The story is told in a straightforward manner, no stylistic flourishes. It's a historical novel and so focuses on building up the characters and the setting -- and 19th C. Palermo comes to vibrant life in this book. I didn't realize when I started this that the Florios were a real family that Auci is trying to illuminate in this novel, which was probably a good thing as I usually don't like novels with real people as characters. But because I knew absolutely nothing about them or this setting, it didn't bother me here. I felt that she was respectful to all the characters, even the ones that are not the nicest people. 

I also enjoyed seeing the Florio empire grow; from spices to silks, sulfur to ships, lace, bark and more there is info on each commodity and why it was important to Sicily, all told in a natural way as part of the story. It was a bit soap opera-ish in its ups and downs, but not in a bad way -- it was an entertaining read. There were some really compelling characters who she made into true individuals (my favourite was Vincenzo's wife Guilia). The writing wasn't the feature of the book, but it was also well done in that it didn't interrupt the story, you didn't even really notice it - there were no clunky bits. The translator's note about working with a book that was using a lot of 19th C. Italian dialect was fascinating too; Italian hasn't changed as much as English has in the last couple of hundred years, so she had some decisions to make about how to translate it. I appreciated that the publisher put that note in; it made me look back at the book a little differently. 

Overall, this was a different read from many I've picked up this month, and I really enjoyed this visit to the merchant cities of Sicily.  

Two Italian Women Writers

Women In Translation Month is almost over, and I have hardly shared any reviews! I've been reading quite a lot but have been so busy I haven't had time to sit down and share my thoughts on my reading. I'll try to catch up a little before August ends, though I know I'll be finishing off a couple more great reads this week so will be reviewing those later.

Anyhow, to start, I'd like to share two Italian novels that I encountered on my public library shelves. I liked one more than the other, see if you can guess which ;)



Accabadora / Michela Murgia; translated from the Italian by Silvester Mazzarella
Berkeley: CounterPoint, c2012. (Italian c2009)
175 p.

I picked up this brief book at work and read it during lunch hours. That proved a little difficult as I didn't want to put it down! 

The premise is that Maria Listru, the fourth and rather unwanted youngest daughter of a poor villager in Sardinia is adopted as a "soul-child" by local widow & seamstress Bonaria Urrai. 

Maria learns the trade (with lots of wonderful talk about fitting suits and stitching up outfits) but she also learns, eventually, about Tzia Bonaria's other, more secret trade: she is an accabadora - essentially, a midwife for the dying, the "last mother" for many souls wishing to die.

The book delves into Maria's innocent judgement of this profession, takes Maria away to the continent where she works as a nanny for a rich Italian family, and returns her home again wiser and more mature when she gets word that Bonaria Urrai is dying. 

It's not overwritten - the language is compact but highly evocative of rural Sardinia in the 1950s. The female characters are wonderfully drawn, and the small, enclosed society of their village is clearly outlined, with all their beliefs and superstitions -- and gossip. 

This was an award-winner in its original Italian, and I can see why. It reads very quickly and smoothly, but tells a deeply significant story. I enjoyed the characters and the setting, finding that these were the strengths of this novel.

There is also a small glossary included, so that some of the local foods and professions are called by their local names, which I found added some verisimilitude.



Been Here a Thousand Years / Mariolina Venezia; translated from the Italian by Marina Harss
New York: FSG, 2010, c2009.
263 p.

This is another book I plucked from the library shelves on impulse. The description, a family saga over five generations of Italian history, seemed intriguing, as well as the inclusion of some embroidery both on the cover and in the blurb.

Unfortunately, it didn't quite live up to my hopes. Told in retrospect by Gioia, the last of the line (so far), this book starts out strongly, with powerful imagery of Don Falcone starting off the family with money, angst and an outpouring of golden oil flowing down the streets. The sense of magical realism is strong; they seem like fabled ancestors. But the book is full of unfulfilled and unhappy people, and so many of them that the family tree that is included needs to be referred to quite often. The book is told in a series of vignettes so the tone changes quite a bit between the opening and the final chapters which are more contemporary, and Gioia's own story in her own words. Unfortunately I didn't find the family, or Gioia's storytelling, all that compelling. 

In the blurb, the phrase "with their hands they create delicate and complex embroideries, while their minds embroider endless, elaborate stories" caught my attention. But there isn't much needlework in the book except for one aunt who crochets a lot, spectacularly, but as a kind of compensation. So that element was a little oversold, at least for this embroidering reader. 

It was an interesting idea for a book, and parts of it, as I've mentioned, were memorable and quite wonderful. The writing was very elaborate and poetic, and translated very readably, as well. This was a good book, but just not the most fabulous read for me -- it was ambitious, but because of that it was also too disjointed for my tastes.