This was part of a box of books I was given by my neighbour, and as I'd previously read A Thousand Days in Tuscany, I was interested to read how de Blasi's story began.  When I first picked up A Thousand Days in Tuscany it was billed as 'romantic' but was not at all romantic (beyond the romance of living in Tuscany); it was far more about her and her husband's work on their land and home and I found it more interesting than I expected.  So when I saw this one touted as romantic as well, I took it with a grain of salt.

Turns out this one is all about the romance.  How she met her husband on a trip to Venice and had sold everything back home and married him within the year.  This might seem implausible to a lot of readers, but as I met MT, sold everything and moved to AU within 10 months, I'm not one of those people.  Our beginnings, however, weren't nearly as romantic; I suspect the setting had a lot to do with that.  Exotic (for me, anyway), but definitely not Venice-Italy-romantic.  (This might sound like a wistful complaint; it's not - I do not have a romantic bone in my body.)

So, generally, I did not enjoy this one as much.  I mean, I enjoyed the Venice bits, of course, but reading about her romance and her struggles to fit in to an entirely new culture, while getting to know her new husband were, even though they felt very realistic, not really my cuppa.  

Reading this did leave me with a very strong hankering for pasta though.  Three guesses what we had for dinner.  ;)

I think at this point there must be a whole genre/category built up around people who chuck it all and move to either Italy or France, live in run-down, dilapidated houses, discover la dolce vita and then write books about it.  I am their target market.

This is a follow up to her previous book A Thousand Days in Venice which I have not read, and it works fine on its own.  The writing is philosophical, sometimes overly so, and occasionally florid, but overall it's engrossing.  There's a definite air of self-satisfaction that almost crosses over into smugness, but doesn't; the narrative isn't about the author finding her bliss - she's already done that - but more about her awareness of her bliss.  It works better than it sounds like it should, although probably not as well as it could have.

The subtitle of this book is A Bittersweet Adventure and it is rightly titled (although it's not a thousand days, but merely a year, so maybe not).  I won't say more because I'd hate anyone considering this read to stumble on to this review and be spoiled.

Not sorry to have read it at all, even if others have appealed to me more.

I forgot when I did my book haul post yesterday, about the book sale one of the local churches was putting on today.  This is the second of their sales I've been to, and I am now a fan - not a big selection, but lots of quality.

Books I've never heard of before but looked good:

The Real Jane Austen: A Life in Small Things - Paula Byrne 

A Small Unsigned Painting - Stephen Scheding 

A Thousand Days in Tuscany: A Bittersweet Adventure - Marlena De Blasi 

O Christmas Three: O. Henry, Tolstoy, and Dickens - Leo Tolstoy,Charles Dickens,O. Henry 

Books I've seen/heard of before and have been moderately interested in reading:

The Name of the Rose - Umberto Eco 

Brother Cadfael's Penance - Ellis Peters 

At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie 

Murder on the Links - Agatha Christie 

That last one, I bought not only because I'm eventually going to read all of Christie's work, but because the pulpy cover just called to me - I love it!

I'll admit, I got a bit mercenary this morning.  On one of the tables was a cache of 5 Ian Fleming James Bond paperbacks.  Old 60's editions in good condition, for .50 each.  I've read a few book articles lately about people searching for the old paperback editions, so I grabbed them.  Then, I had a fit of conscience, because I have no desire to read James Bond.  So I put them back and about 10 seconds later, a guy grabbed all of them and walked away, which made me feel both better about myself and like I wanted to kick myself too.  

I moved on, and on my last run of the tables (to make sure I hadn't missed anything), I found all 5 of the books again - the guy had changed his mind and put them back.  So this time, I grabbed them.  I'm not sure what the heck I'm going to do with them, but one of them is a first edition.  I am going to try to put my conservation lessons to the test and gently clean them up - then decide what to do from there.

Kiedy w arystokratycznej rodzinie dochodziło do skandalu obyczajowego, wówczas najstarsi przedstawiciele rodu łamali sobie głowy nad tym, jak ukręcić łeb konsekwencjom, które zapewne wykluczyłyby familię z towarzystwa na bardzo długi czas. Nie można było bowiem dopuścić do tego, aby to, co działo się za zamkniętymi drzwiami dworu wydostało się na zewnątrz. Wszelkiego rodzaju skandale obyczajowe uchodziły na sucho w rodzinach chłopskich i niezamożnych, co oczywiście przyjmowano jako rzecz całkiem naturalną. Przecież jakaś biedna dziewucha, która zadawała się z każdym napotkanym mężczyzną na nikim nie robiła wrażenia. Zakłamanie wyższych sfer było naprawdę wielkie. Na sporo rzeczy przymykano oko, dopóki nie trzeba było wziąć odpowiedzialności za swoje postępowanie. Czasami jednak sprawy zachodziły tak daleko, że w żaden sposób nie można było zatrzymać ich jedynie dla siebie. Niekiedy w towarzystwie przez długi czas nie brakowało tematów do rozmów. Plotkowano o tych, którzy jeszcze do niedawna byli uważani za przyjaciół. W momencie, gdy jakaś afera obyczajowa wypłynęła na wierzch, odwracano się na ulicy tyłem do osób w nią zamieszanych. Wielokrotnie sprawy niemoralne były tak poważne, że aż pisano o nich w gazetach. Choć od czasów typowej arystokracji minęło już sporo lat, to jednak w naszym społeczeństwie wciąż funkcjonują niektóre cechy tamtego środowiska. Zakłamanie i troska o to, co ludzie powiedzą są dziś bardzo popularne w niektórych kręgach towarzyskich, szczególnie w tych małomiasteczkowych. Wygląda zatem na to, że pomimo upływu lat człowiek wciąż jest taki sam.

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