The scent of a family E-Book

Alessandra Cortese

• Herausgeber: Alessandra Cortese
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

When you’re thirty, love is everything, while treachery inevitably opens a door into the void. Doll – the nickname she has chosen because she hates her name – spends her time daydreaming, and spying on the life of her neighbours across the road, to fill the void in her own. The girl is fragile and lacks self-esteem. Her relationship with her mother has always been complicated. But after an unexpected trip to Copenhagen, everything changes in the space of a few weeks, and Doll witnesses the total upheaval of her own life and that of many other people. She discovers a past that will unravel knots in her current life, badly in need of a change. Why Copenhagen? Who is the man she meets there? Emotions, passions, and revelations will finally lead her to a safe harbour, dispelling all her doubts.

Leseprobe

Alessandra Cortese

THE SCENT OF A FAMILY

THE SCENT

OF A FAMILY

novel

Translated from the Italian by Sarah Jane Webb

UUID: 2ca02d68-b8bb-11e6-b4f5-0f7870795abd

This ebook was created with StreetLib Write (http://write.streetlib.com).

Table of contents

Biography

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Credits

Biography

Alessandra Cortese was born in Milan, specialised in classical studies, and has been living in Venice for a number of years. Rather than talk about herself, she prefers to listen: over time, she has come to realise that we learn something from everyone. The scent of a family is her first novel.

Alessandra Cortese recognises herself in many quotes of philosopher Albert Einstein. One in particular: “I know quite certainly that I myself have no special talent: curiosity, obsession and dogged endurance, combined with self-criticism, have brought me to my ideas.”

1

Life is full of surprises…

We spend so much time planning our future, dreaming up complex schemes, playing with the craziest thoughts – all of which seem perfectly feasible, inside our heads. But events far surpassing our wildest imagination can get in the way. Life hands us a whole new screenplay, at odds with our character and the role we’ve been used to. And all our intentions and thoughts, our hustling and bustling, are suddenly wiped out.

“I see a man,” predicted a gipsy one day, reading my hand. “He comes from far away and he’ll change your life.” Sure… men always do, one way or another. Not much of a prophecy. Beating around the bush, the way horoscopes do. After all, I might easily share my birth sign with some old biddy on oxygen therapy. What would be her chances of a life-changing encounter – unless it be with God?

That was the first time I’d had my hand read: the woman had ensnared me with her magnetic gaze. These things happen, when your heart is broken. You’re more vulnerable: easy prey for anyone who throws an illusionary glimmer of light onto your future.

A man from afar… Despite my innate scepticism, I liked the idea. Some time later the prophecy came true. I discovered an unknown event concerning my past – the only period I’d been entirely sure about – and was catapulted into an unfamiliar dimension. The experience of a lifetime instantly obliterated: even the coffee I’d just drunk had left an alien taste in my mouth. From that moment on, nothing was the same again.

I’m thirty years old, I live and work in Milan, and I’m dissatisfied with my life. I belong to that obscure percentage of people who dream their time away and who, every once in a while, would almost be prepared to sign a deal with the Devil to turn their life around.

I’ve often pictured Him: a charming thirty-something with a briefcase full of money; and with a magic mirror in which my reflection is transformed. All he wants is my soul. I’m not even sure I have one. Supposing I had one, could I agree to give up a fraction of it?

Without bothering the Prince of Darkness, I’d settle for being slightly less in the red, so as to indulge in the things I like. Right now I fancy liposuction. It’s because of the chocolates, sweets, crisps and fizzy drinks I guzzle in the evening, in front of TV: surrogates for the good things in life. I’ve been trapped in a dark hole ever since Marcello, my boyfriend, suggested the classic, hypocritical “pause for reflection”, freezing me out like a fish-finger.