Perché italiano?

It's like asking, why write?

This month’s newsletter comes to you from Palermo, Sicily, where I’m nearing the end of a monthlong language immersion program at Scuola Italiano Sicilia.

It makes no sense, this business of learning Italian. It’s a beautiful language – the most beautiful, in my biased view – but utterly impractical, barely spoken anywhere outside Italy. And its beauty is, to be tactful, challenging. I think every one of my excellent Italian teachers at some point has waved a hand in response to my frustrated questions and said airily, “Regole?” Rules?

Yeah, rules. I’d like some. I want to know that A plus B will always equal C. But in Italian, the only always seems to be: sometimes.

The more deeply I immerse myself, the more it reminds me of writing.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see my novels published for a dozen years now. When I first started, I thought that after I had a couple of books under my belt, I’d have cracked the code to whatever it takes to make the process easier – to find the A plus the B (let’s say character plus plot) that would equal the C of a satisfying book. Thirteen books later, I’m still looking for the damn regole.

That said, I’m still writing the books. They’re still getting published. And, when I compare the recent ones to those early efforts, I see progress.

It’s the same with Italian. Things that mystify me for months (don't get me started on i pronomi combinati, the combined pronouns) eventually make sense. When I turn in my homework and get the answers right, I get a jolt of enthusiasm that bleeds into that day’s writing.

With both, I’m learning to relax and trust that the times I feel most lost – when Palermo’s maze of streets becomes unrecognizable, when the congiuntivo/subjunctive refuses to make sense, when my novel’s plot seemingly wanders off course – are the ones that inevitably precede a breakthrough.

Something else links the two. Just as with Italian, writing is massively impractical. My novels have never, and almost certainly will never, pay me a living wage, a fact that every so often prompts someone to call my writing a “hobby.”

(Pro tip: Never, ever say that to a writer. At best, you’ll be thinly disguised as the murder victim in their next novel and the murder itself will be satisfyingly creative.)

I’ve long gotten over feeling any need to justify the time and expense that feed my writing, the thing that’s so essential to my being. Now, the same applies to studying Italian.

The writing process, from an idea that won’t quit nagging at me all the way through to a book that connects with readers, brings a kind of satisfaction and quiet joy I find nowhere else. It’s even better than mastering the ^#@&* pronomi combinati.

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Book news: Some e-deals

It was a big deal last month when Bookshop.org, an online bookselling site for independent bookstores, began offering e-books. I’m tickled to see discounts on some of my own books. For now, the ebooks for Disgraced, Reservations and Under the Shadows, all set in the West and featuring journalist Lola Wicks, are available for $9.99. The e-book for Best Laid Plans, which launched the Nora Best amateur sleuth series, is $6.99. The New York Times reports that more than a million ebooks are on offer through Bookshop; I’m thrilled that mine are part of that.

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Bake of the month: My holy trinity of Sicilian pastries

Even if my apartment had an oven, I’d be crazy to bake anything in the pastry heaven that is Palermo. To set foot outside my front door is to be confronted every block or so by tempting arrays. I tell myself that my morning routine of a cappuccino and a cornetto vuoto (plain croissant) is all part of my immersion in Italian culture. But what about those others? Once every few days, I allow myself a special treat, choosing among my three favorites, each impossible to eat neatly and each worth the mess:

°A cannolo, for which the island is best known. If I’m lucky when the urge strikes, I’ll find a place that sells bite-size cannoli, thus (almost) removing the guilt.

°A sfogliatella, paper-thin crackly layers shaped like a shell, filled with ricotta.

°And, tied with sfogliatelle as my personal favorite, an iris, a soft bun filled with warm ricotta flecked with chocolate, and dusted with powdered sugar. Any day that starts with an iris is a good day.

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What I’m reading: Trying for lighter, failing in a good way

My reading has been pretty heavy lately, so my plan for this month was to read purely for entertainment. It didn’t always work, but the reward lay in some terrific books.

Kate Quinn’s The Briar Club was a book club read that left me skeptical at first, then hooked me hard and fast, so much so, that on a friend’s recommendation, I immediately moved on to Quinn’s The Alice Network. Both are fast, entertaining reads that don’t shy away from uncomfortable historical details – I really admire Quinn’s ability to pull off that combination.

I read Elena Varvello’s Can You Hear Me for a different book club. It was a quick read, although anything but light; a couple of times, the suspense was nearly unbearable. It’s a coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of a terrible crime in a down-on-its-luck Piedmontese town. Originally titled La Vita Felice, this translation won an English PEN award.

I’ve read nearly all of Geraldine Brooks’ novels, but Memorial Days, the memoir that followed the death of her husband, the journalist Tony Horwitz, spoke to me in a different way. Both Brooks and Horowitz were foreign correspondents; her accounts of that life brought back memories of my own brief experience overseas. And I fully identified with her description of the delayed grief that results from a just-get-on-with-it attitude after a wrenching loss. It’s a beautiful book.

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Appearances

The Best of Delmarva Review 2008-2023 reading that was wisely postponed due to a miserable weather forecast has been rescheduled for March 15. It will be held from 2-4 p.m. at the Writer’s Center, 4508 Walsh St, Bethesda, Md.

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I love talking with groups about books or writing in general, either in person or via the magic of Zoom. I also give writing workshops, perfect for libraries and writing groups. Interested? You can contact me via my website or by messaging me here.