JUST TAKE ME BACK TO BRAMASOLE

“I had the urge to examine my life in another culture and move beyond what I knew.” ― Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

Usually, I try to read the book before I see the movie. "The Godfather," "Heartburn," "Rosemary's Baby" were all great books which added to my enjoyment of the movies. I must have seen  "Under the Tuscan Sun" at least fifteen times on TV, not to mention all the times I popped in the DVD. At some point during all those viewings, I  was honestly surprised to learn that the movie was loosely based on Frances Mayes' memoir, that Bramasole really exists!

I've always been a slow reader, so I set myself a goal for 2012: I was going to read, on average, a book each week.  Murder mysteries and thrillers are my favorites. But like Frances, I thought it was time that I "move beyond what I knew." So I read the first couple of sentences on Amazon:

I am about to buy a house in a foreign country. A house with the beautiful name of Bramasole.

And that's when I bought the book.

The book's 280 pages are deceptively long, partly due to the font size, which seemed smaller than I'm used to. Watching the movie first actually improved my interest in the book. Since the book is literary, I doubt I would have bought it without having seen the movie first. 


The book is about Bramasole and Tuscany, about restoring the villa, about cooking -- she's included quite a few recipes -- and it's about gardening. After reading about wasps in her book I may never eat another Fig Newton:

"[T]he fig flower is inside the fruit.  To pull one open is to look into a complex, primitive, infinitely sophisticated life cycle tableau.  Fig pollination takes place through an interaction with a particular kind of wasp about one eighth of an inch long.  The female bores into the developing flower inside the fig. Once in, she delves with her oviposter, a curved needle nose, into the female flower's ovary, depositing her own eggs.  If her oviposter can't reach the ovary (some of the flowers have long styles), she still fertilizes the fig flower with the pollen she collected from her travels.  Either way, one half of this symbiotic system is served--the wasp larvae develop if she has left her eggs or the pollinated fig flower produces seed.  If reincarnation is true, let me not come back as a fig wasp.  If the female can't find a suitable nest for her eggs, she usually dies of exhaustion inside the fig.  If she can, the wasps hatch inside the fig and all the males are born without wings.  Their sole, brief function is sex.  They get up and fertilize the females, then help them tunnel out of the fruit.  Then they die.  The females fly out, carrying enough sperm from the tryst to fertilize all their eggs.  Is this appetizing, to know that however luscious figs taste, each one is actually a little graveyard of wingless male wasps?  Or maybe the sensuality of the fruit comes from some flavor they dissolve into after short, sweet lives."

There are differences between the book and the movie. The biggest difference deals with Ed, an American. Ed is not the Italian Marcello in the movie. Ed and Frances both teach in universities in San Francisco. They are together in the beginning; there was no chance meeting of Ed in the book, like the impetuous fling when movie Francis met Marcello. I never learn from the book if they were married or not. I'm not even sure if Frances alone bought Bramasole or if she and Ed bought it together. In fact, there are few personal details about Frances in her memoir.  


I learned more about Frances in this interview . Like how her readers clamor to hear about Ed. (Were they expecting Marcello?) "Under the Tuscan Sun" may lack personal anecdotes, however Frances did open up in the interview and related this hilarious story:

She and Ed get married, and when her own daughter marries, she's embarrassed to relate, she has changed so much that she doesn't even recognize her ex-husband at the wedding. "I'm Frances, Ashley's mother,'' she says to him. Assuming she's joking, he replies that he is Ashley's father

I loved reading about the villa's restoration, but when Frances decided to take us on a 50-page tour of Tuscany, I almost shelved the book right then and there. Good, Lord, Frances, just take me back to Bramasole! I had googled Bramasole and discovered you can rent it. I wanted to find out how that happened -- Did she sell Bramasole? Did she turn it into a B&B or a hotel? -- so I skipped 'the tour' completely, jumping over those 50 pages, and finished the book. Frances never mentioned anything about renting it out. Instead, I did learn some of what has happened to Bramasole, since the book was published, at a site called Hooked on Houses: "Under the Tuscan Sun": The Real-Life Renovated Villa. I'm fairly certain Frances and Ed Mayes still own Bramasole, and I suspect they rent it out when they're staying at their other home in San Francisco. Apparently, lots of villa owners everywhere do that.

I gave the book 4 stars on Goodreads. I would have given it 5 stars had it not been for the Tuscany tour. 

P.S. Oh, and by the way, I've read 30 books in 29 weeks :~)

...

"THE FIRST DAY I DID NOT THINK IT WAS FUNNY"

The first day I did not think it was funny. I didn't think it was funny the third day either, but I managed to make a little joke about it. "The most unfair thing about this whole business," I said, "is that I can't even date." Well, you had to be there, as they say, because when I put it down on paper it doesn't sound funny. But what made it funny (trust me) is the word 'date,' which when you say it out loud at the end of a sentence has a wonderful teenage quality, and since I am not a teenager (okay, I'm thirty-eight), and since the reason I was hardly in a position to date on first learning that my second husband had taken a lover was that I was seven months pregnant, I got a laugh on it... 

So begins Nora Ephron's book Heartburn. I read the book before I saw the movie. In fact, when I saw the previews for the 1986 movie, I decided to read the book first. After all these years, and after reading hundreds of books, that beginning remains the best beginning I have ever read. 

"Heartburn" was based on her marriage to Carl Bernstein, whom she described in the book as a man  "capable of having sex with a Venetian blind."  (I've often wondered if that boosted Carl's love life?) Nora is Rachel Samstat in the book (played by Meryl Streep in the movie) and Carl is Mark Forman (Jack Nicholson).

When Rachel confided in her friend, Julie, that Mark was cheating on her, Julie tells Rachael how she coped with her own husband's infidelity: "Every time he got on a plane, I would imagine the plane crash, and the funeral . . . and flirting at the funeral, and how soon I could start dating after the funeral..." I wonder if that's a true quote from one of Nora's friends or another great bit of writing? 

The Net is loaded with Nora Ephron articles about her life. She was a staunch Leftie whose anti-Right jabs have generated lots of bitter comments from conservatives. I'm a conservative, and while I hate her politics, I still love her writing. She was a talented writer who has been one of my inspirations. I prefer to avoid and/or overlook her political barbs -- there aren't that many in what I've read -- and enjoy her stories. Nora Ephron was that good a writer.

My sympathies to her family, especially Nicholas Pileggi, with whom she found true happiness. I doubt he's thinking of flirting at the funeral.

...

Take Two...

In this interview, Nora Ephron talks about how her parents didn't want to hear her "sad story." They told her, "Everything is copy. Everything is material,"  which she incorporated later into "Heartburn":

Arthur Siegal (Richard Masur): What can I say? I've always been terrible with colors. It comes from having grown up with the single-row box of crayons, instead of the big box. If I had had the big box, I would now know taupe and cerise and ecru. Instead, all I know is burnt sienna.
 Mark Forman (Jack Nicholson): I think there's a column in this.
 Arthur: Oh, God, Forman, every time I say something, it ends up in your column.

...


Take Three...

John Podhortz remembers Nora with Nora Ephron: A great NY dame: Nora Ephron, who died last night at the age of 71, may have been the quintessential Manhattanite of her time. The island was her muse, and she its great romanticizer.

...

I COME TO PRAISE KINDLE, NOT TO BURY IT (HONESTLY)

When Kindle was being touted as the latest/greatest electronic gadget, I couldn't have cared less. Janet Reid couldn't stop gushing about hers and listed 10 Things I Love About My New Kindle, all of which make sense -- for Janet Reid. And, of course, her suck-up squad gushed right along with her. Personally, I just couldn't imagine snuggling up with an electronic device to read. 

I like books. I like the feel of books, the artwork, even the pages. I like flipping through books to find something. I've idled away hours browsing through bookstores. 

My process of picking a book is as follows: 

1. If the title catches my attention, then
2. I check the cover. If I like the cover, then
3. I read the first page. If I like what I read, then
4. I buy the book.

The cover artwork is more important to me than the title. One time in 2006, I bought a book just for its cover, The Right Madness, by James Crumley. It's a very evocative picture. Unfortunately, the cover had raised my expectations too high, because I just couldn't get into the story. So I donated the book to our library but kept the cover, which I still have. 

Amid all the Kindle hoopla, my husband asked me what I thought. Do you think you'd like a Kindle? To which I gave him my stock reply: No, because I can't imagine snuggling up with an electronic device to read.

Obviously he paid no attention to what I said because he gave me a Kindle for Christmas in 2010. I spent the rest of the day figuring out how to use it. Not that it was all that difficult; it's just that I find any written directions to be extremely 'challenging.' And I do mean extremely. 

The cost of Kindle books seemed a bit pricey to me, and let's face it, the freebies are old and boring. But I had to buy something, so I ended up with a cozy for $0.88. I don't really care for cozies so I've yet to read it. Several days later, I broke down and bought A Long Stone's Throw, by Alphie McCourt, and it was worth every penny of its $7.99 price. I can buy from my Kindle or from the Amazon site. It's quick and easy. A bit too easy. Just click! and the book is there in my Kindle. Just like that.

The novelty of Kindle was tarnished by my January VISA bill. A click! here and a click! there and pretty soon we're talking real money. I still prefer books, real books. Most of my real books are used copies, the majority of which were under $1. Many were just $0.01. Besides the cost, there are disadvantages to the Kindle.

1. I can't thumb through a Kindle. As many times as I've used my Kindle, I keep trying to place a bookmark in the thing.
2. Which reminds me: Locating a certain phrase or passage is not easy.
3. I can't pass a good book on to a friend after I've enjoyed it.
4. Sometimes I forget the title of what I'm reading. Normally, I'd just close the book and check the cover, but that's not easy. Don't laugh, but I've lost my place doing that.
5. I miss looking at the book cover.

The one really good advantage about the Kindle is its speed in delivering your book. It's the one feature which causes me to click! In fact, it's addictive. 

...

ANOTHER BOOK TO ADD TO THE LIST

I first heard of Gianrico Carofiglio's books last fall while reading Janet Reid's blog:

Previously available only at Bitter Lemon Press in the UK (one of my favorite publishing company names of all time), I'm a devoted fan of this writer.

I had to agree with her about the name Bitter Lemon Press. Love that name. I ordered his first book, Involuntary Witness and loved it, so I ordered the second book, A Walk in the Dark. I enjoyed his second book more than the first.

Carofiglio has a unique style of writing, fairly simple and leisurely, like an Italian siesta. He spares the reader much of the descriptive garbage other writers feel is so friggin' necessary, although God only knows why they do. While there is an element of mystery, I'd hardly describe either of these two books as "thrillers," as the New Yorker did in the back cover blurb of this one. And, yet, I did race to finish each book. When I have the money, I'll order his third book, Reasonable Doubts.

~~~

THE REDEMPTION OF WORK

I've been reading "The King of Lies" by John Hart. I didn't take to the main character, a lawyer nicknamed Work, and not because he's a lawyer but because he made such stupid choices. He was full of angst, constantly lamenting over problems that would do Oprah proud. I wanted to b-slap him upside the head and yell, SNAP OUT OF IT! GROW A PAIR! Also, Hart likes to lard his story with unnecessary description and back story which slows the reader. However, when the story finally kicked into gear, it moved along at a decent clip. In fact, I rushed to finish the last third of the book last night, and I wasn't disappointed. I thought I knew who the murderer was and I was wrong, although I never care if I figure it out or not. Yesterday, I wrote what I didn't like about it; now I'll tell you what I did like.

I liked the body count. Most of the murder mysteries I read begin with one murder victim, and at some point, the bodies begin piling up. I figure the writer begins to kill off people in order to ratchet up suspense or confusion, or maybe just to fill up space. Unless the killer is a serial killer, piling up bodies is simply implausible, especially when the story takes place in a small town or country setting. Seriously, when does that ever happen? Certainly not in the village where I live. Great characters can overcome high body counts. Still, too many bodies can easily spoil a good story. "The King of Lies" has one murder victim. Just one.

The ending was believable. In fact, the entire story was believable. Some people may not buy Work's decision concerning his inheritance, but I did.

For all the complaints I had yesterday about the main character -- "He drinks to oblivion and then acts, he cheats on his wife, and he's spineless." --  Work eventually redeemed himself.

~~~

In other news...

> iPhone ringer stops symphony: During the last movement of the monumental and emotional 82-minute work, an iPhone ringtone went off in the front row. “It simply didn’t stop,” a gobsmacked concert attendee told Page Six.

> OH. MY. GOSH. Say it ain't so! Maker of Twinkies, Wonder Bread files for bankruptcy

> You can always visit the beach with Southampton's Coopers Beach live stream video webcam

~~~

THIS LAWYER IS A PIECE OF WORK

Have you ever read a book and didn't like the main character? That's the problem I'm having with The King of Lies by John Hart. Jackson Workman Pickens, known as "Work," is a lawyer who makes idiotic choices. He drinks to oblivion and then acts, he cheats on his wife, and he's spineless.

As an adult, he didn't stand up to his bastard of a father to help protect his sister and their mother. One night the father backhands the mother, knocking her down a flight of stairs, killing her in the process. The father disappears the same night and turns up murdered eighteen months later.

What does Work do? Well, he didn't man up when needed. Not that I blame him for his father's actions. His despicable father clearly killed the mother, whether "accidentally" or not. But Work could have stood up to his father and done something to help protect his emotionally battered sister and mother, and he didn't. Then the father extracts Work's co-operation:

"It was an accident, boy. You see that, don't you, son?"

I looked into his eyes, saw for the first time that he needed me, and felt myself nod; it was an irrevocable step." 

Good boy," he said. 

Then the ground fell away and I tumbled into the deep well of self-loathing. 

I have yet to find its bottom.

When the father's body was discovered with two bullets in his head, leaving a $40 million estate, the police naturally want to speak with all concerned. So what does Work, the lawyer, do? He once again drinks to oblivion, uses his long-suffering girlfriend for comfort, and misses one appointment after another with Detective Mills. When Work finally meets with Det. Mills, he lies.

I get the impression John Hart wants me to sympathize with Work, but I don't. I can't, because the character, as written, is an idiot. In fact, I find Hart's ploy insulting.

And while I'm at it, I've got one more criticism, and it's a biggie. The sex scenes are not only gratuitous, they're horrible. To be fair, most writers simply cannot write sex scenes. Hart obviously relishes writing about sex. One scene involves the rape of a teenage girl. Hart went into unnecessary details, larding the passage with far too much description, so much so that I skipped over half of it. I could almost picture Hart salivating over his keyboard. So far, the only writer who has a talent for writing about sex (in my opinion) is Janet Evanovich in her Stephanie Plum books. The scenes are pithy and fit the narrative, and they leave enough to the imagination to tingle my expectations without delving into syrupy, sloppy passages. (I've read the first ten books, or so, in the series.)

If the story was a dud, I would have ditched "The King of Lies" long before now. I'm about a third of the way into the book, and the story is finally picking up. I want to find out what happens. It's a shame that Work is such a spineless, unlikable character. So far, the only character I do like is Det. Mills.

"A STRIKING NEW TALENT"?  Yes, I'd agree John Hart does have talent.

"READS LIKE A BOOK ON FIRE"?  Not quite. The sloppy sections extinguish any flames.

"EXCEPTIONALLY DEEP AND COMPLEX"? Hardly.

~~~

In other news...

> Not everyone is having mild weather.  Alaska town buried in 18 feet of snow; National Guardsmen recruited to help

> Man wears ‘crack jacket’ to court:  A man accused of drug trafficking showed up for court Friday in Fort Lauderdale sporting a jacket that bore a cartoon-style recipe for cooking crack cocaine.

> Greece Bank Run Shows No Sign Of Stopping: Deposit OutflowsContinue In November: The year is not over yet, and already Greece's banks have lost €36.7 billion of their deposit base in 2011, and a whopping €64.6 billion since the beginning of 2010, which is down from €233 billion to €173 billion in under two years.

> The Mafia Is Now "Italy's Largest Bank"

> C-SPAN Gets Romney Penis Question 

~~~

I FINALLY MEET TESS MONAGHAN

When I still had some available discretionary funds, I bought stacks of books, mostly used. Last year alone I ordered 84 books through Amazon. I also ordered 40 DVDs. I figured when the economy takes its last gasp, I'll at least have books to read and movies to watch. So I stockpiled books (and movies) the way some people stockpile canned goods. 

I like murder mysteries and thrillers, and I prefer male protagonists. I rarely meet a female protagonist I like. The one exception is Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum, the spunky bounty hunter from Joy-zee. I read the first ten books in the series, maybe a couple more, and absolutely loved them. Then I chickened out, afraid the writing would read as though it had been phoned in, the stories redundant. 

As protagonists go,  Stephanie Plum is the exception, not the rule. 

Enter The Girl in the Green Raincoat, by Laura Lippman. It's a Tess Monaghan novel, the 11th in the series, but my first. I usually try to read a series in order, from first onward. I'm sure I looked at the previous books in the series, but obviously something just didn't click. Maybe because it was a Tess and not a Tom. And then I saw that luscious emerald green cover on Amazon and read the first page, and I was sold. 

It's a breezy read, both in length -- it's a mere 158 pages -- and in style. I loved the Rear Window set-up. In fact, I'm pea-green with envy it's now been done and not by me. Tess Monahagn is no Stephanie Plum. I can relate more to Stephanie than I can relate to Tess, but I'd like to try the first Tess book, Baltimore Blues. Once in a while a breezy read is refreshing. 

~~~

In other news...

> Just 9* this morning when I taxied grandchildren to school and 18* when I picked up Little M this afternoon.

> I discovered the "OFF" button will not, I repeat, will NOT turn on a curling iron no matter how many times you frantically hit the button. Amazingly enough, swearing doesn't help, either.

~~~