If They are Roses E-Book

Leo Cardini

• Herausgeber: THE FLORENTINE PRESS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Unravel Italy’s idiosyncrasies and experience its essence in a book that topples communication barriers and provides an idiom-inspired road map to life in the Bel Paese.
 
Drawn from her column in The Florentine, Linda Falcone’s If They are Roses is the sequel to the best-selling Italians Dance and I’m a Wallflower. It clues into a country in which affection is abundant, jobs are scarce, art is more available than oxygen and soccer and style are one in the same. It explores a language worth deciphering: being a ‘doctor’ has nothing to do with medicine, ‘My mother!’ is a substitute for ‘My God!’ and al dente pasta proves a moral dilemma.
 
Discover the heart of everyday Italy, where conversation is as rich and energizing as coffee and wit is the daily bread of the common man.

Leseprobe

LINDA FALCONE

IF THEY ARE ROSES

THE ITALIAN WAY WITH WORDS

ILLUSTRATIONS BYLEO CARDINI

LINDA FALCONE

IF THEY ARE ROSES

THE ITALIAN WAY WITH WORDS

ISBN: 978-88-97696-11-7

1st digital Edition: November 2015

1st print Edition: May 2008

All rights reserved.

©Linda Falcone

©Leonardo Cardini

No part of this book may be reproduced ortransmitted in any form or by any means, electronicor mechanical, including photocopying, recording,or by any information storage and retrieval system,without permission in writing from the publisher.

I lettori che desiderano informazioni sui volumipubblicati nella collana The Florentine Press possonorivolgersi a [email protected] visitare www.theflorentinepress.com

Readers who wish to receive information regardingThe Florentine Press series can write [email protected] or visitwww.theflorentinepress.com

eBook by ePubMATIC.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BEING BACK

THE DOCTOR IS IN

POSITIVE THINKING

JUST A WISH AWAY

AS IT SHOULD BE

MORTAL PIZZA

“MAMMA MIA”

SWEET HOUSE

NEW YEAR’S REVELATION

PORTRAIT OF A LADY

FRIENDLY WITH THE FATES

LESS BAD

PLAYING DINNER GAMES

A FLOOR ON WHICH TO DANCE

“BOH”

BY ANY OTHER NAME

IF THEY ARE ROSES

“UN’AMERICANATA”

TALES TO TELL

“MAH”

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

SOCCER AND “STILE”

ARRANGEMENTS

FIXED WORK

“LA PRIVACY”

PRESSED FOR PRESSROOM

SANDWICH SUSPENSE

“SOFIA MIA”

AN “ALLORA” MAN

THE SAY-DO DIFFERENCE

LA, LA, LA

THE RED ROOM

THE DEAD BRIDGE

CONTROL ISSUES

RECOMMENDATIONS

“ITALIANI MAMMONI”

PREFACE

On my 30th birthday, I abandoned a novel I’d been struggling to finish for years. It was a hopeless case and I was suddenly adult enough to admit it. Novel writers need a conflict that’s deep enough to bridge the gaps between chapters. If you don’t have a conflict, a love interest will do; if you don’t have a love interest, then God bless you—there’s no need to prolong the agony.

After four years of drafts, I was finally willing to face the facts. My would-be Italian novel had none of the essentials. My conflicts, though excruciating, were about as profound as having to wait in line at the post office. My love interest was a country rather than a person, and, as far as I could see, there was no real resolution to the relationship. And when there’s no resolution, you can just kiss your sweet little novel goodbye.

After I bid mine farewell, it took me two years to face the typewriter again. My reconciliation with the written word occurred when my long-time-no-see friend Janelle came back to Florence after a lengthy stay in London. “Hey, what ever happened to that book you were writing?,” she asked when we met for drinks in via del Corso.

“It didn’t work,” I told her.

“You mean it didn’t work out with the publisher?”

“No, I mean it just didn’t work.”

“Well, what does it need?”

“A big pair of scissors, maybe.”

“You know,” my friend mused, “There’s a new English-speaking newspaper coming to Florence. Grass-roots. You’d like it. It’s in the Oltrarno district and they want 750-word articles on Italy. You should chop off chapter of your book and go talk to them.”

In truth, there is nothing I like more than “grass-roots”.

So I took Janelle’s advice and crossed the river with the right amount of words in tow. Two weeks later I was commissioned to write a bi-weekly column on language and culture in Italy—there was a space on page 15 that needed filling. My initial salary was a desk at the press office near Santo Spirito, and although the job didn’t pay the rent, free office space in Florence is worth the whole bank of Monopoly money. Thus, began my frenzied search for the “word of the week”. Thus began this slightly haphazard collection of stories about Italy.

To me, they are love stories—of the ‘for better and for worse’ variety. Italy has never tempted me with temporary infatuation; it is the love of my life and the bane of my existence. An incorrigible mix of “leave me alone” and “don’t ever leave me”, my reflect this culture’s inherent paradox. Though positively sagging with downfalls, Italy’s strengths are nothing short of astounding. And while literature and cinema paint this country in glossy shades of Fantasyland, in real life, it’s just that—real life. Cultural survival is a day-to-day effort where admiration, frustration, affection and bewilderment are daily bread.

The stories in this book speak primarily of culture shock and writer’s block—my two most faithful suitors. Culture shock encapsulates one’s relationship with the world; writer’s block reflects one’s search for unborn potential. Part threat and part delight, there’s no known cure for either.

Thank God. What would life be with nothing to overcome? Resolution is often over-rated. Give me discovery, inconformity, struggle and truce. Give me a good word to follow. And by all means, give me a road that leads to Italy.

Se son rose, fioriranno…

BEING BACK

It’s Tuesday, the day we put the newspaper to bed. And yes, since the entire staff has spent the last few weeks boldly courting summer, we are surprised that the paper is already pushing so hard to hatch. On most days, our staff forms a relatively perfect union that works in varying levels of peace and harmony. Today, there is little room for love. It’s not even midday and we’ve already fought about a front-page photo no one will ever see, waged a war over headlines no one will ever read, and I’ve almost been fired for inserting three overlooked commas. Ours is a free press, and last-minute punctuation is very expensive.