Taking Florence's pulse -- and mine

Dante considered Florence a den of snakes, and I can see why, but he also lamented his exile from this bejeweled city and I can absolutely see why -- years into my own (voluntary?) exile from Florence.

It’s truly beguiling as cities go -- not one you can write off easily (though he and I have both tried!).

Beguiling describes its allures and also its current state, mired as it is in overtourism -- but can we blame anyone for wanting to visit this enchanting city I once called home?

(Not unlike the notion that Italy is familiar to me, I also revel in saying that Florence is a city I once called home. Maybe how native-born Manhattanites feel? Though that level of entitlement I could never approach). 

As I write, I’m sitting in a living room on Via della Vigna Vecchia – not #1 but rather #12, and outside, from a tiny terrace, there’s an up close-and-personal view of the tower in Palazzo Vecchio. At this moment, the churches are chiming out 7 o’clock and I feel compelled to go out on the terrace to hear the bells – like the world coming alive in surround sound.

We arrived on Monday, and as usual, I have professed my love for Florence -- and spent time getting reacquainted with her -- by walking her streets. That is the way for me to take the city’s pulse, and my own. Will you grow weary of reading that only when I have prowled the streets for hours each day do I feel as though I am truly visiting Florence? Speriamo no.

Denise posted on Facebook that she was at the Shore for her birthday, and I had a serious case of FOMO.

And yet, while she was at the beach, I was meeting with my one-time roommate, Irene, and her husband, and reveling in the joys of old friendships. We chose to meet up at this ridiculously cool bar by the Sant’Ambrogio market, where Mike and I found seats outside while we waited but when Irene arrived, she said, “Well, have you seen the internal courtyard?” I had not and let’s just say the nuns who once lived at the convent now converted into a bar had some nice green space (would they have enjoyed the glass of Bolgheri we had? Maybe).

Yesterday I found two books I’d been looking for at the Florence branch of Il Libraccio: Vita immaginaria by Ginzburg and Lettera da Francoforte by Edith Bruck (finally!). Who knows how many more books I’ll try to schlep home? The quantity I’d like to buy is probably a number in the low three figures.

I also shopped at my old market (in Italian, Il Mercato di Sant’Ambrogio) yesterday. Still authentic, still wonderful, still selling qualche etto di prosciutto (crudo, always crudo, for chrissakes) that I can’t resist.

State of the city: positively infested with tourists, and the main part of centro storico is now full of quickie snack stops for travelers (rather than residents), as I wrote during an earlier trip. If back then, there were 15 snack stops (panini shops, wine bars geared toward foreigners, convenience stores) in a half-mile, now there are 40. And they've displaced local shops that served residents.

State of Leonardo (as he is known here, not far from Vinci, home of the other Leonardo): Well, we saw my old friend, Chiara, last night for a walk through centro & then dinner, which was lovely until we said our goodbyes and Leo yelled at me, “Three hours of you talking in Italian!” But what was nice: I suggested we go to a bookstore (so Chiara could pick out a book for her upcoming vacation) but instead she said she wanted to find Andremo in città, (i.e., the book I translated) which they didn’t have (alas).

(Update: The state of Leonardo was quite good at the Ferrari store where we bought him a pricey shirt and also before in the mountains where he was surrounded by cats and dogs.) 

I spend my days taking an inventory of what was and what is, especially since Mike insisted we rent a place on our old street (which is also around the corner from my last apartment in Florence). My old tower of course is still there but now at the base, there’s yet another restaurant for tourists (meanwhile our bread bakery not far away is long gone; oh the focaccia you could get there!). At Vivoli, there’s a line out the door – not so surprising, as even at 8:30 a.m., gelato is yummy (apparently) – but they’ve also expanded and taken over the corner grocery Paola used to run. I guess no one needs gorgonzola anymore.

Morning coffee with biscotti: enjoyed on the tiny terrace while the Torre di Arnolfo looks on (see above). The only cool respite in a city baked by the August sun.

My church is open most days and more gorgeous than I remember (just a neighborhood church) plus the ‘Crazy Drycleaner’ (our nickname, not the name of his shop) is still there – but the macellaria (butcher) where we bought the Thanksgiving turkey one year is gone.

This morning, I wandered around town in the early morning hours while Leo and Mike slept and managed to get across the river to Piazza Santo Spirito where I had a cappuccino at Caffe Ricchi – a sign by the macchinetta del caffe read, “Cappuccino di Soia: 1.80,” and when I asked about it, the barman said, “Sa di cartone.” (Soy cappuccino/‘It tastes like cardboard’).

Other spots I’ve visited on foot: San Niccolo a tiny bit. Via dei Serragli (the door to my old apartment building isn’t green anymore. Was I consulted?). Borgo Pinti/Via degli Artisti (to visit the Giuntina publishing company).

Most of the time when I stop to write something in my journal, I’m completely unsure where to begin but completely sure five days in Florence will not be enough in any universe I’m a part of.

We’ve also been walking in the mountains with Giovanni and his wife, Veronica. The mountains above the city of Pistoia, which Giovanni knows like the back of his hand. We set off on foot from his family’s mountain cabin, and they even brought along a dog – called Dante!!! – with whom Leo almost immediately bonded. He took Dante’s leash and was frequently the one walking him during our long-ish hike. After we left Florence that morning, he had been sullen and seemed tired in the car but when the dog appeared, he was the Leo of old. He kept saying, “Hi, Dante!” “Here, Dante.” “Oh, Dante you’re so cute.”

I don’t fully know what Robert Frost meant when, poised before two roads that ‘diverged in a yellow wood,’ he said he was “sorry I could not travel both/And be one traveler,” but I feel quite certain he would appreciate my dilemma. Would that I could be one traveler – but I cannot. I can only keep up my Italian back in the US, and be a minor ambassador for Italian literature, buoyed by the sheer ecstasy of knowing another language (and not just any language) – all the while biding my time until I am reunited with il paese dove il si suona.

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Italy? Still stunning

Of all the ways I've aged, perhaps the one I like best is how easily I am satisfied at times. (Or maybe I should say the only way I've aged that I like? Though fair enough, I'm not as dumb as I was yesterday, and that's also helpful).

I've written before in this space about the 24 hours I spent in Rome a few years back, and how utterly wonderful they were, no matter the scant time I had to enjoy the Eternal City. Now I come again to say almost any amount of time I spend in Italy is a cure for a life-threatening disease I didn't know I had.

If you read nothing else, let me also say this: We arrived in Italy a week ago and as usual it is both breathtaking and familiar! Oh how lucky can I be that Italy feels familiar? So very lucky indeed. Also: I don't consider myself one to have a bucket list but something that could top it for me?

Biking on the ancient Appian Way in Rome

Pinch me -- maybe my bike tire rolled over a cobblestone once tread on by Julius Caesar's chariot! (because yes, there are sections of the road with the original cobblestones). You can visit some interesting ruins and of course the catacombs.

That's one of the special things we did in Rome. We also visited (again) the Borghese Gardens and saw the Ara Pacis for the first time. Perhaps most importantly, for me, I visited with Edith Bruck and she is well, for a 94-year-old woman. I spent three glorious hours with her! She has a new book coming out in the Fall, I am pleased to say. She is not very mobile but as long as she is near a pack of cigarettes, she's OK! (She smoked those tiny thin cigarettes my entire visit).

Also, for the record: Seeing SPQR on every manhole cover in Rome is still cool!

Oh and you can buy a calendar that features the face of a fresh, young priest every month of the year!

We explored Piazza del Popolo and the area around it (including Via del Corso, site of the nightly passaggiata) quite a bit as we stayed on Via Flaminia, one block outside of the piazza (thus we had to pass through a gorgeous monumental gate each day to enter Piazza del Popolo). It was ground zero for all of the young people visiting Rome last week for the Jubilee youth summit owing to the fact one of the churches on the piazza is a pre-requisite for all pilgrims before heading to the Vatican.

Rome was hot, somewhat crowded and still the Eternal City.

Best food so far:

Extra large, extra doughy ciambella (Rome)

Crostini with rabbit ragu

Pinsa with mozzarella di bufala and pomodorini

Fiori di zucca fritti

Verdure fritte miste

My favorite chocolate bar: dark chocolate ('fondente') with whole hazelnuts

Best walks so far

-- Cross the bridge closest to Piazza del Popolo, walk along Tevere to the bridge by Piazza Navona, stumble into the piazza where the Pantheon is located, then Via della Scrofa, which becomes Via di Ripetta until you reach Piazza del Popolo (Rome)

-- Walk along Arno in the town of Onda (mountain town outside of Florence)

I’m in the mountains now – the mountains of Italy – and need I say, it is absolutely beautiful? We visited small, run-of-the-mill towns yesterday and my heart broke from the beauty. It was the Jeanne small town variety of beautiful – a rocky stream with multiple small waterfalls ran through the center of town and you could walk along the stream (the towns of Londa and Stia). You could stand on a bridge and look over at the stream, and ogle the buildings that line the stream (including, in Stia, a restaurant where we ate).

At one point, we walked through the town of Stia during lunch hour, and the sound of Italian radio filtered out of a door or a window, much to my delight!

We try to do something different each trip, and this trip we have chosen to stay a few nights at an agriturismo in the mountains east of Florence. Good decision! We have visited mountain towns before but I don’t recall our ever staying overnight at a farmhouse as we are now. So imagine you’re visiting Vermont but all the signage is in Italian, the picturesque tavern keeper speaks Italian, the tourists you find at the secret swimming hole are Italian (or German – but of course). Oh and it's somewhat hot.

And then there’s a certain extremity to the matter – the roads we travel to reach this farmhouse are so narrow, no American could possibly consider them fit for two-way traffic. I have visited Vermont many times and probably there are a few roads like this but are the locals going 90 mph around each turn?

While right now I am using my laptop and I have been texting with Italian friends, I am largely offline, content to read my Natalia Ginzburg book (Tutti i nostri ieri) (I've tried to read this novel before but it never appealed to me as much as her other books) and articles in the copy of L’Espresso I bought in Rome.

Right now, as I write: One of the barnyard cats is meowing outside our kitchen window. The silence is so complete, it is loud!

So far in Italy: I have walked – run – swum – biked.

What else? Leo (known as Leonardo here) has begun to tease me while I’m talking on the phone here to Italian friends:

I say: “Si,si.” And then he says, “Si,si.”

I say: “Certo.” And then he says, “Certo.”

My mind is not totally 'bifurcated' yet between English and Italian but getting there. 

So to sum up: Italy is still marvelous! And hearing Italian is still marvelous. Wish you were here! Especially some of you -- and you know who you are.

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Do you use Goodreads? Please 'shelve' This Darkness Will Never End!

Now that the book tour is over, I am turning my attention to other ways that I can get my translation into the hands of more readers (more on this in a moment).

What an incredible year it has been! I was able to share my love for Edith Bruck's work with readers, friends and family members in Philadelphia, Boston and New York. For more information, you can read my sum-up of the mini book tour here.

Thank you again all for your kind interest and support. And now I have one more request:

Please "shelve" my translation on Goodreads! 

You can even just put it under the "want to read" status.

OK, maybe two more requests...

If you bought the book on Amazon, please leave a review!

Consider suggesting the book to your book club. You can find a reading guide here.

And of course, you could give the translation as a gift!

I'm continuing to promote the book in ways big and small. For example, I've just published an excerpt of another Bruck title, Two Empty Rooms, which to my mind is a way to promote the book-length translation by dint of promoting the author. Read the excerpt here. Thanks to the editors at Jewish Currents magazine for their kind interest.

I'll be giving a virtual talk about the translation at the Museum of Jewish Heritage and also an-person talk at the Forbes Library in Northampton in the Fall. Details to follow. Thanks for your kind interest!

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'Two Empty Rooms' excerpted in Jewish Currents

Thanks to Jewish Currents magazine, another part of Edith Bruck's body of work has made the journey into English.

The web and print magazine has published an excerpt of Ms. Bruck's Two Empty Rooms (Due Stanze Vuote), which I have translated but which hasn't been published yet in English in its entirety. It complements This Darkness Will Never End.

Ms. Bruck has only published two short story collections but both are stunning and even though they both touch on the "absurd reality" of survival, they do so in different ways. Two Empty Rooms, which was published in 1974 and was a finalist for the prestigious Strega literary prize in Italy, is nothing short of a reckoning with the past. Specifically a Holocaust survivor's past -- which includes a village full of people who did little when she was deported to a Nazi concentration camp.

But as Judith says in the title story, Ms. Bruck isn't here to "accuse" anyone but rather to report, to probe. How is it that human beings can be this way?

The editors at Jewish Currents homed in on some of the most provocative lines in the novella, using them as pull quotes. Namely:

-- "When they took you away, I thought, Finally I won't see them suffering anymore."

-- "A real live Jewish woman! She used to live here."

My thanks to Nathan Goldman, one of the magazine's fine editors who worked closely with me to bring this work into the English-speaking world.

Now what publisher would like to publish the entire collection?

Please take a moment to read the excerpt here.

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'This Darkness Will Never End' at Wesleyan

When I visited Wesleyan in May for my reunion, I went to Olin because Olin is a gorgeous college library where I spent many hours possibly studying but definitely reveling in the joy of college life.

But secretly I was hoping to find a copy of my translation, This Darkness Will Never End.

Which is to say, on the shelf, because I had made a purchase request and Olin kindly consented.

Instead, since I am an alumna and occasional writing instructor, it was out for display.

Complete joy!

In the spot where I first dreamed of translating an Italian book, there I was, with an Italian book I had translated.

Don't count the years. I'm so thrilled to have this book out in the world that I didn't dwell on how long it took me.

I only dwelled on how good it felt to see the book on the display and know how hard I worked so that it could be there.

Thank you, Edith Bruck and Paul Dry!

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Mariateresa Di Lascia is on my mind with Strega season underway!

The Italian literary sphere is in the throes of choosing the best book of the year and that has me thinking of an unusual author (and parliamentarian!) who won the Strega award exactly 30 years ago: Mariateresa Di Lascia. 

The work -- Passaggio in ombra (Italian), "Into the Shadows" (English manuscript) -- presents something that I think is unusual: the perspective of a woman coming undone, told from the woman's point of view. Not a male narrator or author presenting this. 

Di Lascia regrettably died in 1994 after writing a few short stories and completing a lone novel -- this one.

I encountered her work when I was commissioned to write an article for the Literary Hub site about Italian novels that hadn't been translated into English yet -- but should be. 

The novel is a coming-of-age work that is one of many books to light the way for Elena Ferrante (both authors featuring women narrators bucking convention). As I've written before, Di Lascia’s novel analyzes and exalts the interior lives of a group of women buffeted by their limited choices, their unruly desire for freedom and the price they pay for these desires.

I love that the book features an unconventional female narrator. She's not perfect, she's not a devil, she's somewhere in between.

I won a grant from PEN America to jumpstart my translation work on the manuscript but it has yet to find a publisher. 

You can read an excerpt of my translation here.

A line that I love but which isn't in this excerpt is about the narrator's father:

"When he thought about how his life would turn out, what form it would take if indeed it would ever bend itself to a specific shape, he felt something inside of him rebel. As if it would be an unbearable imposition. In those days, he had one lone desire: to preserve for as long as he could -- maybe even forever -- the freedom to have no direction of any kind."

One of the aspects of the work that's so compelling is the array of portraits of women. It's something I wrote about for Ploughshares when I was in the thick of translating the first section of the novel.

https://pshares.org/blog/the-lives-of-women/

It gives us the story not only of the narrator but of the women in her life -- her mother, her aunt, her grandmother -- who navigated a rural, post-war Southern Italian society not ready for gender equity. Di Lascia zeroed in on the mother-daughter relationship, but also tells the tale of a beloved aunt forced to give up a child for adoption -- a decision she never fully accepts. Indeed, one of the most poignant and harrowing moments of the book comes when her aunt reunites with her child; initially, the reader thinks it might be a clandestine meeting with a lover, so intense are the aunt's emotions and so furtive her movements as she plans a reunion others would prefer to suppress.

For Italian literature buffs, the book has the uncanny privilege of mirroring Menzogna e sortilegio by Elsa Morante. Essentially, Di Lascia structured her book so it opens in the exact same way as Morante's masterpiece. 

There's also a volatile father-daughter relationship; indeed Di Lascia didn't stint on men -- they are just as interesting as the female characters. Nuanced, too, even if they are guilty of tormenting the women in their lives. 

I don't know how other translators choose projects but I find certain lines haunt me, and if the haunting doesn't let up, I need to do something about it. Here is one such line, a sentence that frames the beginning of the book, as the narrator begins to tell the tale of her life: 

(Italian): "In questa storia, che mi fu solo raccontata, cerco l'inizio di ogni inganno."

(English): “In this story, which was only told to me, I seek the genesis of all the deception.”

I put her work aside because I received an NEA translation grant to translate stories by Edith Bruck. And now that This Darkness Will Never End has been published, I plan to return to the Di Lascia manuscript and I hope to publish it. 

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'This Darkness Will Never End' reading guide for book clubs

I've written a reading guide for This Darkness Will Never End that I've posted to my professional website and which I'm also pasting here:

Synopsis:

The short story collection, This Darkness Will Never End by Edith Bruck, portrays in colorful detail the lives of poor Hungarian Jews before, during and after World War II, with the Holocaust alternately looming ahead as a fate that can’t be avoided or as the horror that can’t be outrun. The collection, published in English by Paul Dry Books, includes a story that is considered by film scholars to have inspired Robert Benigni's Oscar-winning movie "Life Is Beautiful." Bruck, who was born in Hungary in 1931, settled in Italy after the war and has been writing in Italian for more than a half-century. She is the author of two dozen novels, short story collections, books of poetry and works of nonfiction, many of which touch on her survival of the 20^th century’s worst atrocity. Through her work, Bruck supplies an answer to a critical question: What can women writers tell us about surviving the Holocaust era?

For more information about This Darkness Will Never End, visit Paul Dry Books:

https://www.pauldrybooks.com/products/this-darkness-will-never-end

This book is perfect for individuals and book clubs interested in these topics:

*Italian Literature

*World War II Literature

*Jewish Studies, especially Holocaust Studies

*Women’s Studies, including overlooked women authors

*World and Transnational Literature

*Postwar Literature

*Short Works of Fiction

*European History

What the critics said:

 

Invite me on your podcast to talk about This Darkness Will Never End

OK, now my mini book tour is over and I probably won't do any more readings until the Fall, but I always have time to talk about Edith Bruck and This Darkness Will Never End.

Do you have a literary podcast? Maybe even a podcast about history. Or a podcast about Italy, and Italian life. Do you?

This book would lend itself to discussions about:

*Italian fiction

*Holocaust literature

*World War II

*Short story collections

*Translation

*What the NEA has thankfully funded

*And more!

The photo here was taken on the steps of the state capitol in Atlanta, Georgia, where I worked as a statehouse reporter for Georgia Public Broadcasting.

It has nothing to do with translation or literary matters but for the podcasters out there, I have audio bona fides! 

Get in touch!

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Scenes from a mini-book tour -- THIS DARKNESS WILL NEVER END

I arranged a small book tour to support the publication of my translation, This Darkness Will Never End, but secretly it was a friends-and-family tour where beloved faces greeted me at every stop.

Philadelphia was the city of brotherly love if by brotherly you mean two of my oldest and dearest friends (Jeanette and Tina), and a cousin (Brendan).

In Boston, one of my best college friends (also my closest Jewish pal and hence a constant muse during the translation) hosted me for the first reading (while also propping up my ego!). Thank you, Michelle! Thanks also to those who attended, including Ellen, a Boston-area translator, and kind friends of Gabriela Block.

On my second go-round in Boston, my sister, Denise (in photo below), and my brother-in-law, Mike, attended, plus one of my dearest and oldest friends -- Beth -- hosted me in addition to attending the reading with her son. 

And in New Jersey not only did my (other) sister, my brother-in-law, and my aunt and uncle come to the reading but a cousin -- MARY KATE!!! -- drove up from D.C. Amazing!

New York reading: another of my oldest and dearest friends attended, plus two translation-world friends, (Jenny and Ann!).

Plus, in West Hartford, not only were Mike and Leo on hand (ready for the 'darkness' to end), but also many of my friends and neighbors! As if this weren't enough, my undergraduate thesis advisor was on hand for my reading in Middletown! Cecilia Miller advised my thesis on Machiavelli and has backed every other professional achievement I've had.

Two of the readings were actually conversations. In New Jersey, I was paired with a local rabbi whose father, like Edith Bruck, was a Hungarian Holocaust survivor! It was an engrossing discussion. And in New York, I invited Philip Balma from the University of Connecticut (above), a scholar of Bruck, to join me. It was wonderful because his knowledge about Edith and her work knows no limits!

In addition to this mighty slate of readings last month, I also attended a college reunion at Wesleyan where I found a copy of my translation on display in Olin Library. I had asked the library to purchase a copy -- you can do that as a faculty member, even an occasional one like me! And they may or may not buy the book. But no one told me it would be on display during my reunion and no one mentioned how humbling that would be (other adjectives: insanely cool, generous, thrilling. Maybe now I can get past ranking near the bottom of my class???).

I haven't even touched on the questions I received -- good ones! A man at Newtonville Books in Boston wanted to know about the evolution of perspectives on writing fiction about the Holocaust. In West Hartford, a member of the audience asked about the dictionaries I liked to use, which allowed me to drone on and on about the large, multi-volume dictionaries at the New York Public Library that not only provide entry upon entry of potential meanings but also instances of usage throughout the history of Italian literature. A word I was puzzling over was first used by Boccaccio in the 1300s, for example!

There were also questions about what aspects of the stories were inspired by Edith's actual experiences of deportation and survival -- in some cases, I didn't know the answer. And maybe I should. I hope to see her this summer -- do I dare ask if classmates yelled "Heil Hitler" outside her window as happens in "Come to the Window, It's Christmas"?

It was also fascinating to see (FEEL!) the reaction of people to a speech Edith wrote that I translated earlier this year and which I read in addition to an excerpt from This Darkness Will Never End.

It's called "My Alma Mater is Auschwitz," and it's as devastating as that title would suggest. It gives a good overview of her life but more importantly, the light that she managed to find in a place of profound darkness, which of course is a perennial theme in her work and yet another reason to admire her. And translate her work.

I don't know how many books I sold. And it matters! Not for my bank account but for the life of the book -- for the possibility of spreading the word about Edith Bruck.

But I think I sold a lot of people on the notion that we should keep gathering together to talk about books, and in particular, we should continue to read the work of Holocaust survivors. We still have so much to learn. Also, why not try a book by an author you don't know at all?

I have been invited to speak at the Museum of Jewish Heritage and the Forbes Library in Northampton, Massachusetts in the Fall, and the first invite is virtual so it's open to everyone. I'll post details here and also on social media.

My thanks to all of the venues that hosted me:

I AM Books

Philadelphia Free Library

Newtonville Books

RJ Julia

West Hartford Public Library

Montclair Public Library

Italian Cultural Institute (NYC)

*

My thanks also to everyone at Paul Dry Books -- two of my collaborators were at the reading in Philly!

I hope to be able to speak again about this translation to groups. It would be cool to appear on a podcast! Do I know anyone who hosts a literary podcast? Invite me on!

Fingers crossed there will also be more reviews of the translation. I am grateful for this review from the Jewish Book Council! And this one by Foreword Reviews.

To all who attended the readings, ETERNAL THANKS! You gave up a night or an afternoon, and gave me the thrill of a lifetime. And don't be shy about sharing your opinion or asking questions (either in the comments here or on social media or via email). I loved that question in Boston about the evolution of ideas on fiction about the Holocaust. So astute, and it gives us a chance to situate the work in context -- how it lives in conversation with other works.

The readings, after all, illuminated how we as humans live in conversation with one another about books and life and the history of the world that brings us to this moment in time.

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My Alma Mater Is Auschwitz

During events to present my translation, I decided to read a speech by Edith Bruck that I translated for World Literature Today.

It's called "My Alma Mater is Auschwitz."

And I think it was one of the most effective aspects of the book talks because now people are asking for the link.

Why not? When I first read it three or four years ago, I knew I had to translate it. Edith was deported at age 12 -- childhood effectively over. And then once liberated from the camps, she wandered Europe as a refugee. Her alma mater? Her alma mater is Auschwitz. 

In this speech, which Edith gave to university students in Rome on the occasion of receiving an honorary doctorate, she speaks about the woman "who learns to make herself invisible in order to gain another day of life." She writes about learning that she will never be like her persecutors.

"I, who graduated with honors from the University of Evil, I learned about goodness. From the cesspit, I extracted gold." 

What gold, you might ask? The golden joy of feeling grateful for even the smallest acts of kindness.

Here's the link again:

https://worldliteraturetoday.org/blog/essay/my-alma-mater-auschwitz-edith-bruck 

Thanks for the kind interest!

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