Biking the Appian Way in Rome

What do you remember about high school? My sister says she remembers almost nothing while I remember nearly everything.

So that includes knowledge that France was once known as Gaul, the first words of the Aeneid are, "Arma virumque cano," and that Caesar when crossing the Rubicon with his army headed back to Rome didn't actually say the words, "The die is cast," but rather, "Alia iacta est."

(Maybe I should note that my mother had been a Latin scholar in her school days and when I went to Catholic high school, she was delighted that I could begin studying Latin, too).

So when I learned we could bike along the ancient Appian Way while visiting Rome last year -- known to all Latin scholars as the Via Appia -- I thought my mind might break out of geeky happiness. You know how all roads lead to Rome? We're actually talking about the Appian Way when we say that!

Three cheers to National Geographic, which published an amazing article about the Appian park system and how it's been embraced by a new generation of Romans.

There's a great quote in the story where an official likens the Appian Way to our Route 66. "It's not really about driving. It's about the real America. We have Route 66 -- plus 2,000 years," he says.

(My CNN Travel colleague, Julia Buckley, also wrote a very cool travel piece for National Geographic Traveller UK about visiting Via Appia.)

There are sections with cobblestones that date to the time of Caesar. Pinch me! While we biked, I marveled over the idea that my bike tires were rolling over the same stones as a chariot that once carried Julius Caesar!

(Which also means, some spots are a little rough-going).

We only biked a short section but we still managed to see some amazing ruins, and at one ruin, they have virtual reality glasses that Leo (in the photo above) enjoyed.

The park, which stretches far into Southern Italy, is quite varied, with sections that are ideal for walking and others for biking, plus as I said ruins, ancient aqueducts and other sights. You can access a part of it in the suburbs of Rome.

So in all seriousness, you can enjoy a bike ride (or a stroll) on the ancient Appian Way even without the weird high school Latin obsession!

But if you're studying Italian, subscribe to the Appian Park newsletter or listen to their podcast: 

https://www.parcoappiaantica.it/i-podcast-del-parco/

And either way, visit the Via Appia next time you're in Rome!

Literary prize nomination for 'This Darkness Will Never End'

My translation, This Darkness Will Never End, has been nominated for the Italian Prose in Translation Award!

It is a thrill but I also have to say: this was my goal, from the outset!

To create a translation worthy of being nominated for this prize, which is awarded by the American Literary Translators Association (ALTA). 

If for no other reason than Edith Bruck's story deserves the best treatment, it deserves an English vehicle capable of conveying all the horror she experienced during the Holocaust and the intrinsically creative way she had of converting these experiences into fictional stories.

Just as a reminder, you can buy a copy on Amazon here.

You can buy a copy at Bookshop here.

Oh and you can ask your library to purchase a copy! (Most recently, I got word from the Baltimore County Public Library that a copy has been purchased for its collection. YAY! I think that makes at least 5 states where there's a library with the book in its collection. Thanks to Silvia and many others who are asking their public libraries to buy the translation).

I believe the photo above is of a copy of the translation that was for sale at River Bend Bookshop in West Hartford. So you can also ask your local independent bookstore to purchase you a copy!

The other books that were nominated for the prize are all important books -- works by Cesare Pavese and Luigi Pirandello, heavy hitters in the sphere of Italian literature. And the other translators are far more experienced than I am, and if you think I'm being humble, consider that Ann Goldstein, also known as Elena Ferrante's translator, is nominated as well. She translated a book called The Night Trembles by Nadia Terranova, whom I met in Italy and whose previous novel Gli anni al contrario impressed me so much, I wanted to translate it almost as soon as I began reading it (someone else beat me to the punch, though the English translation hasn't been published yet in the US).

That means I probably won't win but it's an incredible honor to have the translation included in this group of works of Italian literature.

The winner will be announced in October at ALTA's annual conference. Learn more about the works nominated for IPTA here:

https://literarytranslators.org/awards/2026-italian-prose-in-translation-award/ 

And if there are young translators out there who would like to learn more about ALTA, please get in touch! It's a wonderful association. I've attended one ALTA conference and I was so impressed with the translators who attended, all committed to bringing foreign literature to American readers.

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Top photos from 20 years of blogging

Leo in Rome, 2018 (Piazza Bucarest)

I love this photo so much because it's the honest result of introducing a curious boy to the Eternal City. 

Leo was 5 years old when we snapped this photo, and excited to visit Italy (actually, really just excited to do anything except go to bed).

It's one of many photos taken in Italy that make me swoon. 

Here's a selection of photos posted previously on the blog that I love, and which best express the joy Italy has injected into my life -- which I guess, come to think of it, is the theme of this blog. The pure beauty of this country I happened upon during a study abroad program, chosen all because a week before I began college, I saw a movie that convinced me to study Italian or bust.

I'm reposting these photos to celebrate 20 years of writing this blog. Note, some were taken in Italy, some just reflect the life of Ciambellina, the person. Might need another post just for photos of actual ciambelle/ciambelline (hold that thought).

In the past two decades, I've had the thrill of visiting Torino (under the radar for many American travelers even though it's a fantastic city with a coffee culture all its own and a mountainous locale that's just stunning), various places in Puglia (including Trani), and of course Rome, Milan and Florence (and Siena and Pistoia and Pisa and Le Cinque Terre and San Marco dei Cavoti and Lucca and Bologna and and Focene and Matera and Venice and ... ). 

Torino, a city of grand piazzas

I've also chronicled Ciambellina's transition from aimless, vagabond journalist to besotted mother whose favorite subject (via photos or writing) is Leonardo.

He was an adorable little boy -- no thanks to me since I wasn't this cute as a child -- and now he's a teen with a gorgeous smile and rather strong opinions (Milan is the best city in Italy, don't challenge him!).

The most adorable Leonardo ever (Atlanta)

When you eat calamari fritti for the first time

My favorite place in Milan

The photo I always take when visiting Florence

To be sure, this is a make-shift photo gallery that includes my favorite moments during my travels to Italy and also my favorite moments from this lifelong project of remaining fluent in Italian and immersed in everything that Italy's one-of-a-kind culture has to offer. Buona lettura!

Monte Sant'Angelo, Puglia -- road-side pranzo!

 a

A gem of an appetizer in Puglia

Weekly flower market, Piazza della Repubblica, Firenze

The photos of Italy are more enchanting but of course the little Italian touches we've brought stateside feel pretty cozy. Our not-so-little shrine to the place we met.

Buon Natale Christmas decoration (in Atlanta)

Buon Natale sign with my little tesoro! (Leo's 1st Christmas)

Little souvenirs for little Italophiles

What I saw during those 24 hours in Rome

At Bennington, thinking of Leo

Priests crossing a piazza in Trani (2006)

Thank you for reading my blog. Thank you for caring about the ways I've incorporated Italy into my life. And if I know you in person, thank you for caring about Leo. That's the most important thing you could for for me. I love Italy, no question, but nothing is bigger than my love for Leonardo.

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Postcard from Montreal (2026)

I'm terribly behind on blogging about Montreal but let me quickly say it's one of my favorite cities in the whole wide world.

I love the way it allows me to slip into a foreign locale, just a few hours from my boring, suburban life in Connecticut.

Everyone is on bikes in Montreal.

Everywhere there's a mural waiting for your gaze. Everywhere there's a patch of greenery, a pocket park, a median full of flowers tended by anyone and everyone.

Every neighborhood seems conceived for people to stroll or bike or sit on a front balcony and enjoy the world as it passes by. The city, but with touches of the country.

Every block in Montreal appears to have a bakery whose pastries will literally warm your heart! Conceived with love and lots of butter.

All of this to say, if you haven't visited Montreal, go. Go now, go soon, just go there.

I'll be blogging about the city again but I wanted to begin gushing about this place, which has become a beloved spot once again, after first visiting as a child.

When I visit Montreal, I go to immerse myself in a Francophone world that also leaves space for other cultures (especially Italian culture). I go so I can be somewhere foreign without an overnight flight that leaves me sleepless. I go because the pastries are gorgeous and delicious.

But it feels especially important to visit Canada now for a completely different set of reasons.

Canadians are our neighbors! Our friends. A country so similar to ours -- and one that's lent us some of the best comedians of the past 50 years -- but which has retained arguably a stronger sense of community and a sharper notion of neighborliness.

In other words, we have much to learn from this neighbor, regardless of what politicians may say. 

Highlights from the trip:

*We once again biked using the city's Bixi bike-sharing app, and it was delightful. 

*We visited a lot of bookstores and they were a joy to explore (including Librairie Le Port de tête, various branches of Renaud-Bray, and Multimags, which arguably is really just an extremely large newsstand but which sells a lot of wonderful books, and a lot of wonderful magazines, which were a balm for my heart. Magazine World is wonderful).

*We stayed near Parc Fontaine where Montrealers biked, played boules, held concerts at an outdoor amphitheater, sat by a pond, ran and danced. Delightful!

Signs of a good trip: everyone in the family embraces Montreal, finding an outlet for needs and passions, and I couldn't stop writing in my journal.

More to come!

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Commonwealth Books (Boston) & the book I had to buy

Walking around Boston one afternoon before a concert in 2024, Mike and I stumbled into a used bookstore on a sidestreet.

It was one of those classic old-school shops crammed with books, where books were the decoration, books were the products, books were all that you could see from floor to ceiling.

I've developed the habit of looking for books by Edith Bruck wherever I go, and since it was a bookstore that specialized in used books and hard to find volumes, I took a chance and wandered over to the foreign language book area.

To my amazement, the shop had a copy of Edith Bruck's Andremo in città.

It was an edition published by Lerici, an edition I didn't have, and one that featured a rather enigmatic photo.

But I'm burying the lede. It was a copy of the book I was translating at that moment. The first-ever English edition, which would the following year be published under the title This Darkness Will Never End.

When I approached the counter to pay, I mumbled to the owner that it was stunning he had the book in stock since Italian books are hard to find in the US (with a few notable exceptions) and that I happened to be translating it into English. 

Did he hear me? Did he care? I don't know and it doesn't matter because Commonweath Books officially entered the pantheon of my beloved places at that moment.

Serendipity. Kismet. And the pleasures of visiting bookstores, especially storied bookstores with used, out-of-print or hard-to-find editions.

(Also: the pleasures of translation, of meeting a living legend, of fulfilling a lifelong goal and of trying to live a life steeped in letters).

Commonweath Books

9 Spring Lane

Boston, Mass.

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What I bought at ll Libraccio (Firenze)

There are many fine bookstores in Florence but Il Libraccio is particularly helpful when you're looking for hard-to-find and possibly out-of-print books.

I found a book I needed and had been searching for when I visited the Florentine branch of Il Libraccio during our vacation last year:

Lettera da Francoforte

("Letter from Frankfurt")

It's by "my author" -- Edith Bruck, and the plot is as follows: A Holocaust survivor becomes embroiled in an odd correspondence with an official at the German organization that disburses relief/compensation funds to survivors. How it ends is stunning.

Since I began translating Andremo in città (in English: This Darkness Will Never End), I've been trying to read all of Edith's work but it's not easy for two reasons:

-There aren't many American booksellers that stock a lot of Italian titles (there aren't even many that stock SOME Italian titles; two notable exceptions are Rizzoli in New York City and I AM Books in Boston) (And as for Amazon, sometimes the Italian books on offer there are very expensive).

-Some of Edith Bruck's work is out of print.

When I was visiting Il Libraccio, I also bought:

Vita immaginaria by Natalia Ginzburg

(I probably buy a book by Ginzburg every trip -- I'm always reading and re-reading her work)

Il Libraccio also has branches in Milan, Ferrara, Pisa and Rome, among other cities. The branch in Florence that I visited is at Via dei Cerretani, 16R.

Last but not least: to the owners of all of the independent bookstores out there, I'd like to say I love you. And I hope to visit as many indies as possible, in the years to come.

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Ask your library to buy THIS DARKNESS WILL NEVER END

Did you know you could ask your public library to buy a book that you'd like to read?

Yes! (See UPDATE below)

And that book could be This Darkness Will Never End, my translation of Edith Bruck's debut short story collection.

I'm thrilled to say the New York Public Library and the Free Library of Philadelphia have already bought copies. Pending requests include Boston, Los Angeles and Chicago.

(If you live in any of these cities, go ahead and make a second request. It can't hurt!) 

(Click here for Los Angeles: https://www.lapl.org/suggest-a-purchase)

Atlanta friends, the book is not part of collections in Fulton County or DeKalb, so can you help?

I asked my library in West Hartford to buy a copy, and they did! (They hosted me for a reading, too.) Wesleyan University also has a copy.

UPDATE: Thanks to Baltimore County Public Library for accepting my purchase suggestion!

The book is of particular interest to survivors of the Holocaust and anyone who knows a survivor, but it's also popular with readers of Italian literature, lovers of short stories and fans of Roberto Benigni's Oscar-winning 1997 movie, "Life Is Beautiful," which film scholars say was partly inspired by the title story of my translation.

When Edith first began publishing her work in Italy in the late 1950s, Italian critics compared her to Anne Frank. The young Dutch girl's diary had been published a few years before Edith's debut came out in Italy.

Just as Anne's diary captures a surreal moment of families in hiding, the stories in my translation reveal a lost world of poor Hungarian Jews, at the mercy of the Nazis and the many collaborators they inspired during their campaign of hatred. And yet, Edith still manages to evoke the joys of a loving family, and the gift that is remembrance.

All of this to say, it's a work that would be a credit to your library.

I'm grateful for all of the support I've received from libraries. I gave readings of the translation at libraries in Connecticut, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania. The Forbes Library in Northampton even recorded my talk, which you can see by clicking here.

I'll close with a photo of my translation on a shelf not at a library but at Atticus Books in New Haven (you can also ask your favorite indie to buy it). When I visited the city for CNN Travel, I was thrilled to see the bookstore stocked my translation!

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Re-discovering New Haven for CNN Travel

I got to visit New Haven on the company dime and I enjoyed every minute of it.

Now you can, too -- here's my story. It's part of a series we've been doing for three years on the best towns in America that fly under the radar and are often far from the major metropolitan areas.

New Haven is home to Yale -- which you can see in this photo I snapped -- and it's also one of the most walkable cities I've visited in the US.

Here's a note I scrawled in my journal:

New Haven is glorious! I don’t really say it happily but rather with a not-so-healthy dose of jealousy and what-if-ism! It would appear getting into Yale is a golden ticket in more ways than one. You get to live in a beautiful, vibrant city that’s walkable and architecturally alluring (in addition to studying at one of the finest universities in the world).

Before I forget: New Haven is for walkers. I walked so much. So it was really unavoidable that I’d love it, I suppose.

Also, my translation, This Darkness Will Never End, was on the shelf at Atticus! YES!

Interesting fact: I gave all of my leftovers to men on New Haven Green who appeared to need food.

Moment of beauty after the visit: I bought Leo a small puzzle of the painting The Wave at the Yale Art Gallery and he really liked it. He asked to open it immediately and then instead of watching TV, he began to assemble it. When we turned on “Father Ted” after a bit, he didn’t pay much attention to it, preferring instead to painstakingly find pieces of boats that appear in the painting.

(The Yale Art Gallery is quite nice and I didn’t even get to visit the sculpture garden – home to an Alexander Calder – because of the rain).

Anyway, please read my CNN story!

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“Stay Alive: Berlin, 1939-1945”

I write letters to the editor of The New York Times but only occasionally are they accepted. This one below was not but I remain fascinated by the book at the heart of my letter because it's about World War II, and ever since I began translating the work of Edith Bruck, I've been mesmerized by this epic period in recent history. As you know, I'm trying to read as many important books about the war and about Holocaust survivors as I can, and this one goes on the TBR pile.

To the editor of the New York Times Book Review,

In his review of Ian Buruma’s book, Stay Alive: Berlin,1939-1945, Kevin Peraino says he wishes the author had “delved deeper.” 

I don’t doubt him but if Buruma manages to convey even a bit of the uncanny experience of surviving World War II, especially in Germany, that will satisfy me. 

I’ve heard about the war and ‘the Greatest Generation’ my whole life, but stupidly ignored its importance until I began translating the work of a Holocaust survivor (Edith Bruck). 

Her story is fairly typical but no less compelling because of that: At age 13, she was deported from her native Hungary by the Nazis, and, as she would write later, “lost everyone and everything.” After I translated that line, I decided I needed to permanently study the Holocaust and by extension World War II. 

I’m not related to anyone who fought in combat but still the era not only witnessed the greatest atrocity of the modern age but also shaped my parents, born just before the war, and continued to influence the world I was born into, three decades after the fighting stopped. I’ll never know enough so I keep reading, and Buruma’s book now goes on the to-be-read pile.

Regards,

Jeanne Bonner

“When You Listen to This Song: On Memory, Loss, and Writing” (Lola Lafon)

I've reviewed a short nonfiction book for World Literature Today called When You Listen to This Song: On Memory, Loss, and Writing, but the review won't appear until July and since I remain haunted by it, I'm jotting down a few thoughts here (I've reviewed books for WLT before, and the magazine also published a speech by Edith Bruck that I translated called, "My Alma Mater is Auschwitz").

(UPDATE: You can now read the review here.)

It's a fascinating if somewhat slim exploration of the annex at the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam and behind-the-scenes details about Anne Frank’s life, diary, father, etc.

It raises lots of interesting questions about the image now attached to Anne and grapples with the topic in a very nuanced way, recognizing that the story of Anne Frank has long since ceased to be simply the tragic story of a girl whose life was cut short by barbarism. Author Lola Lafon writes, “How beloved she is, this young Jewish girl who is no longer."

Lafon wrote the book after sleeping in the annex at the Anne Frank House, not something just any visitor can do. (The annex is the hidden compartment where Anne and her family and another family lived, while trying to escape deportation).

As she prepares for the visit, she writes, “I will spend the night in this space where for 25 months eight people submitted themselves to silence, learning all the forms it could take, from whispers to muffled steps to total immobility.”

In preparation for reviewing this book (published by Yale University Press), I also read Ruth Franklin's The Many Lives of Anne Frank. Franklin writes, “Since it first appeared in the Netherlands more than 75 years ago, Anne – who, if she had survived the camps, would be nearly 100 years old – has become an icon.”

According to Franklin, the diary has sold 30 million copies and “is the most famous work of literature to arise from the Holocaust.” 

Like everyone else who's read the diary, I've had occasion to think about this poor little German girl whose life was cut short. But I've also had the opportunity to reflect on one particular aspect of her story: my author, Edith Bruck, was compared to Anne when her first book came out because it was published a few years after the diary was translated into Italian. Italian critics said Bruck was the kind of writer Anne could have become had she survived.

It’s an interesting comparison because Bruck, like all survivors including Elie Wiesel and Primo Levi, has written about what Anne could not: what happened in the Nazi concentration camps and life after liberation. Moreover, many women survivors have told their stories but they failed to make a deep impression and hence don’t enter into the widely-known public conception of the Holocaust. That wasn’t the fate of Anne Frank’s diary, first published in Dutch in 1947. 

A reader can feel as though she knows a lot about Anne Frank without knowing many, many details of her story. Indeed, there are stunning little tidbits about the Frank family that will leave you breathless. For example, while in hiding in a hidden compartment in the building that housed Anne’s father’s company, the family had to keep to a strict schedule of silence since not all the workers knew they were there. Starting at 8 a.m. each day, they could make no noise whatsoever. Then at 12:30, when the workers broke for lunch, those in hiding could use the bathroom, have a bite to eat or talk. At 1:30, they were back to a routine of no noise, no movement, no conversations. 

Born in 1974, Lafon is widely known in France as a feminist writer. She is the author of the novel, The Little Communist Who Never Smiled. This book was translated from the French by Lauren Elkin. It's a very smooth translation.  

Why read this book? The author addresses the age-old scourges of anti-Semitism, exploitation and historical amnesia but has found a new approach in what some have called “a sleepover with the dead.” 

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