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- Herausgeber: BookRix
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Set in Lipari, the Aeolian Islands, off Sicily. The tensions of an impending wedding build like a Mediterranean thunderstorm. But love conquers all in this tale of modern Italy where the past and the present seek to undermine the future.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
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From This Earth
To the ordinary Sicilians making their way in this turbulent world . All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 MunichFrom This Earth
Lipari, the Aeolian Islands 2015
The dog moved from beneath the table where the men sat and walked across the piazza of the Marina Corta into the shade of the statue of St Bartolomeo and slumped down, full out. It was midday now and, although it was October, the sun was warm. After a little while the dog rose and moved into the shadow of a parked Fiat.
Back at the table the briscola game was in full swing; arguments, accusations, raised hands, exclamations.
To signora Dolmitti from her café doorway it was all normal- these old men played as it they were street hawkers.
They were a small whirlwind of energy.
Otherwise business was quiet because of the time of day and because the tourist season was nearly done. The Italians had been, in the height of the summer heat. Now it was cool it was safe for the northern Europeans with their fair skin to appear.
And the locals got their town back.
With a buzz a young man on a motorini cruised past. With a deeper note Giovanni the fishmonger’s Ape set out from his seafront unit at the north end of the quay and headed for the Via Roma, the exit of the piazza.
His truck was all white except for the sign with its fish logo - the words in blue, “Giovanni - Pesce Fresca”.
He waived to acquaintances as he went off to the suburbs of Lipari to make sales.
He would set up in a street and with his white hat and apron on and shout “Pesce Fresca, Pesce Fresca, Spada, Tonnino, Orata,” over and over.
At first the streets would be quiet. Then one by one housewives would drift down to his little van; for the fish was caught fresh that morning by Giuseppe, the fishmonger’s son.
Giuseppe was to be married this Saturday at the Chiesa del’ Immacolata on the citadel, to Gabriella.
Giovanni and his wife had been saving all year for the wedding. Giuseppe was a good boy; it was he who brought in the fish now.
Once Giovanni had run the boat out and around Lipari’s cliffs hauling in squid, octopus and orata to bring to his own father.
Gabriella; well, she was attractive but excitable, always always talking, and she dressed tartily in tight jeans, lots of bangs, wild lipstick, gold jewelry.
“High maintenance,” said Giovanni’s brother now divorced. That was then a family scandal; divorce almost unheard of. Now couples on the mainland lived together.
“It all started with that Ingrid Bergman,” said Stellata, Giovanni’s wife.
“She shacked up with that film producer right here in Lipari - not married, disgusting.”
Giovanni had seen the film many times. Bergman was nice, so different from the dark moody Lipari girls. In his heart he envied Rossellini, to have got hold of that Nordic beauty.
“Perhaps,” he mused as he set out his fish, “perhaps his wife was jealous, felt threatened by that pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes – by a female Viking.”
He laughed out loud.
“And what have you got to laugh about?”
It was Laura Menni.
A slim woman of forty something.
