The Venice Experiment: A Year of Trial and Error Living Abroad by Barry Frangipane with Ben RobbinsNonfiction – Travel Memoir2011 Savory Adventures PublishingFinished 2/19/12Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)Publisher’s Blurb:Lured by Venice’s colorful history, Barry Frangipane was determined to experience its labyrinth of walkways, canals, and bridges, as more than just a tourist. With this in mind, he convinced his wife Debbie to join him in this grand experiment, a year long cultural immersion in the most legendary city on earth.Through their initiation into Venetian society, Barry and Debbie discovered the close-knit family of inhabitants and innumerable cultural oddities of living in Venice, the improbable city built upon millions of tree trunks driven into the mud sixteen centuries ago. From the exasperating bureaucracy to high tides endangering their ground-floor apartment, these expatriates get far more than they bargained for.The quintessential storyteller, Barry leads us deep into the inner workings of life in Venice. With his inexhaustible humor, he draws the reader effortlessly into his daily exploits, a journey filled with a cast of remarkable characters who will touch your heart.It’s been a long time since I’ve read an entire book in one weekend. Granted, the font size is almost as large as that of a “large print” book, but once I started reading, the pages practically turned themselves. I wound up spending most of a Sunday afternoon curled up on the couch, lost in the magical city of Venice.I have several pages marked with sticky notes for future reference (yes, I will get to Italy one of these days!), but upon reflection, it was not the writing (which reads like a personal travel journal or blog), but rather the destination that held my interest. Frangipane’s humor was lost on me, and as a matter of fact, there were a few instances in which I thought he was rude toward—and disdainful of—tourists in general and his wife in particular. Had I not been so interested in reading about Venice, I might have called it quits.On Venice:Slowly, Venice came into view. All the bell towers seemed to grow as we neared the city, with the famous campanile towering over Saint Mark’s Square.As we left the station, the city of water opened itself up to us. The Grand Canal, directly ahead, was bustling with activity. Two vaporetto, or waterbus, stops perched on the edge of the canal with people waiting at each one. We watched people going about mundane daily routines in this exotic place that seemed to emerge directly out of the sea. Traveling down the canal were merchant boats carrying wine, toilet paper, and Coke, while a UPS boat delivered packages to businesses on the canal. Palaces rose up from the water with beautiful blown-glass chandeliers glistening in the windows. The aroma of fresh pastries filled the air.Travel Notes:San Daniele, a quiet little spot in the foothills of the picturesque Dolomites, was home to arguably the best prosciutto in Italy. Tiny restaurants specializing in the local delicacy were found on every corner. Many of them offered beautiful views from outside terraces, where thin slices of prosciutto were served on silver platters paired with homemade grissini breadsticks and white wine.Serene canals near Fondamenta Misericordia along the backside of Cannaregio.Rialto market at sunrise and Piazza San Marco at midnight.Go here to read more about Barry and Debbie's venture in Venetian travel tours.Debbie now has a cooking show, which you can learn more about here.Final Thoughts: I was pleasantly surprised when I received The Venice Experiment from Bellezza—she knows my passion for travel & foodie memoirs so well—and was delighted to add the book to my stack for the Venice in February Reading Challenge.This is neither A Year in Provence nor Under the Tuscan Sun, but I was entertained nonetheless.
The Midwife of Venice by Roberta RichFiction2012 Galley PressFinished 2/16/12Rating: 3/5 (Good)
Venice Challenge #2
Publisher’s Blurb: Not since The Red Tent or People of the Book has a novel transported readers so intimately into the complex lives of women centuries ago or so richly into a story of intrigue that transcends the boundaries of history. Hannah Levi is renowned for her gift at coaxing reluctant babies from their mothers using her secret “birthing spoons.” When a count implores her to attend his dying wife and save their unborn son, she is torn. A Papal edict forbids Jews from rendering medical treatment to Christians, but his payment is enough to ransom her husband, Isaac, who has been captured at sea. Can she refuse her duty to a woman who is suffering? Hannah’s choice entangles her in a treacherous family rivalry that endangers the child and threatens her voyage to Malta, where Isaac, believing her dead in the plague, is preparing to buy his passage to a new life. Told with exceptional skill, The Midwife of Venice brings to life a time and a place cloaked in fascination and mystery and introduces a captivating new talent in historical fiction. I came upon the ARC of this book one day at work. It was right around the time I was putting together a stack of books for the Venice in February Reading Challenge, so I quickly snatched it up, eager to try another new author.

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Venice 1575:During the full moon, unseen currents ran in the canals, washing over the crumbling walls and wetting the slimy steps of the ghetto. At high tide, acqu alta*, the entire campo disappeared under a layer of mud. Tonight was such a night. Hannah held up her skirts as she, the Conte, and the Rabbi made their way across the campo toward the gates, the Conte grasping her elbow to prevent her from slipping in the silt. Overhead in her building, shutters opened. A tiny flicker of a candle showed through the window and then the shutters banged closed. Hannah shivered as a rat leapt into the canal, leaving greasy ripples in the water.andHannah stood on the dock for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Venice was awakening. Morning sun glinted on the water, infusing it with the luminescent colours of Murano glass. The canal was filled with boats jostling for right-of-way. Barges spilling over with apples and pomegranates, round and succulent, lumbered toward the Rialto market. A fishmonger on the opposite side of the canal held up snapper and tilapia, their scales pearly white in the first light of dawn. The shops along the strazi teemed with early morning shoppers. Water sellers trudged back from the wellhead in the piazzetta, their buckets sloshing.I enjoyed the book well enough, but was more drawn to Hannah’s story than Isaac’s. I would have liked to have seen more accounts of Hannah’s midwifery prior to her visit from the count, as well as more details of her relationship with her husband. The plot lacks depth and, with the exception of Hannah, the majority of characters are one-dimensional and forgettable. In spite of these quibbles, I found the narrative entertaining and suspenseful and might be convinced to give the sequel a try, depending on the early reviews.*Acqua Alta: (Italian: 'high waters') is the term used in Veneto for the exceptional tide peaks that occur periodically in the northern Adriatic Sea. The peaks reach their maximum in the Venetian Lagoon, where they cause partial flooding of Venice and Chioggia; flooding also occurs elsewhere around the northern Adriatic, for instance at Grado and Trieste, but much less often and to a lesser degree. The phenomenon occurs mainly between autumn and spring, when the astronomical tides are reinforced by the prevailing seasonal winds which hamper the usual reflux. The main winds involved are the scirocco, which blows northbound along the Adriatic Sea, and the bora, which has a specific local effect due to the shape and location of the Venetian lagoon. (Source: Wikipedia)
Death at La Fenice by Donna LeonMystery
Guido Brunetti Series #1
1992 HarperCollinsFinished 2/5/12Rating: 4.5/5 (Terrific!)Publisher’s Blurb:There is little violent crime in Venice, a serenely beautiful floating city of mystery and magic, history and decay. But the evil that does rear its head on occasion is the jurisdiction of Guido Brunetti, the suave, urbane vice-commissario of police and a genius at detection. Now all of his admirable abilities must come into play in the deadly affair of Maestro Helmut Wellauer, a world-renowned conductor who died painfully from cyanide poisoning during intermission at La Fenice. But as the investigation unfolds, a chilling picture slowly begins to take shape—a detailed portrait of revenge painted with vivid strokes of hatred and shocking depravity. And the dilemma for Guido Brunetti will not be finding a murder suspect…but, rather, narrowing the choice down to one.“A splendid series…With a backdrop of the city so vivid you can almost smell it.” Sunday Telegraph (London)It’s been almost five years since I first heard about Donna Leon’s “Venice” series. I was chatting with a customer about some of my favorite mysteries writers and he asked if I had ever read any of Leon’s mysteries. When I told him I hadn’t, he practically insisted I stop reading my current book and immediately start in on the Guido Brunetti series. I’m sorry to say I only made a mental note to give the book a try, but I have Bellezza to thank for giving me the incentive to finally pick up this literary mystery.Guido. What a great name. Move over, Lucas Davenport. I’ve found a new love. ;)Guido Brunetti, a commissario of the police for the city, was first through the door…He was a surprisingly neat man: tie carefully knotted, hair shorter than was the fashion; even his ears lay close to his head, as if reluctant to call attention to themselves. His clothing marked him as Italian. The cadence of his speech announced that he was Venetian. His eyes were all policeman.Brunetti has a wry sense of humor and I enjoyed the conversations (as well as his internal monologue) between him and his supervisor, Vice-Questore Giuseppe Patta.“It sounds like you’re making excuses for her,” said Patta, then added, “Is she pretty?” Brunetti realized Patta must have found about the difference in age between the dead man and his widow.“If you like tall blonds,” Brunetti said.“Don’t you?”“My wife doesn’t permit me to, sir.”and“Now pay attention, Brunetti.” Brunetti nodded. “I want the name of anyone who was in the dressing room, or near it, last night. And I want to find out more about the wife. How long they’ve been married, where she comes from, that sort of thing.” Brunetti nodded.“Brunetti?” Patta suddenly asked.“Yes, sir?”“Why aren’t you taking notes?”Brunetti permitted himself the smallest of smiles. “Oh, I never forget anything you say, sir.”I also enjoyed peeking into Brunetti’s personal life:He opened the door, glad of the warmth and smell he associated with the apartment: lavender, wax, the scent of something cooking in the kitchen at the back; it was a mixture that represented to him, in a way he couldn’t explain, the existence of sanity in the daily madness that was his work.“Is that you, Guido?” Paola called from the living room. He wondered who else she might be expecting at two in the morning, but he didn’t ask.On Venetian commerce:A half hour before his appointment with Signora Wellauer, he left his office and walked slowly up toward Piazza San Marco. Along the way, he paused to look into shop windows, shocked, as he always was when in the center of the city, by how quickly their composition was changing. It seemed to him that all the shops that served the native population—pharmacies, shoemakers, groceries—were slowly and inexorably disappearing, replaced by slick boutiques and souvenir shops that catered to the tourists, filled with luminescent plastic gondolas from Taiwan and papier-mache masks from Hong Kong. It was the desires of the transients, not the needs of the residents, that the city’s merchants answered. He wondered how long it would take before the entire city became a sort of living museum, a place fit only for visiting and not for inhabiting.On Venetian crime:Brunetti often mused that the crime rate in Venice was low—one of the lowest in Europe and certainly the lowest in Italy—because the criminals, and they were almost always thieves, simply didn’t know how to get away. Only a resident could navigate the spiderweb of narrow calles, could know in advance that this one was a dead end or that one ended in a canal. And the Venetians, the native population, tended to be law-abiding, if only because their tradition and history had given them an excessive respect for the rights of private property and the imperative need to see to its safekeeping. So there was very little crime, and when there was an act of violence or, much more rarely, a murder, the criminal was quickly and easily found: the husband, the neighbor, the business partner. Usually all they had to do was round up the usual suspects.On Venice, the city:Brunetti walked up toward the hotel, still lighted, even at this hour when the rest of the city was darkened and sleeping. Once the capital of the dissipations of a continent, Venice had become a sleepy provincial town that virtually ceased to exist after nine or ten at night. During the summer months, she could remember her courtesan past and sparkle, as long as the tourists paid and the good weather held, but in the winter, she became a tired old crone, eager to crawl early to bed, leaving her deserted streets to cats and memories of the past.But these were the hours when, for Brunetti, the city became most beautiful, just as they were the same hours when he, Venetian to the bone, could sense some of her past glory. The darkness of the night hid the moss that crept up the steps of the palazzi lining the Grand Canal, obscured the cracks in the walls of churches, and covered the patches of plaster missing from the facades of public buildings. Like many women of a certain age, the city needed the help of deceptive light to recapture her vanished beauty. A boat that, during the day, was making a delivery of soap powder or cabbages, at night became a numinous form, floating toward some mysterious destination. The fogs that were common in these winter days could transform people and objects, even turn long-haired teenagers, hanging around a street corner and sharing a cigarette, into mysterious phantoms from the past.
I thought it was terrific read and can’t wait to return to Venice and see what’s in store for Guido. (Did I already mention that I love that name? And what a likeable character!)Final thoughts: Quite the page-turner, Donna Leon’s debut mystery is satisfying and a series that I’m anxious to continue reading.Books added to my TBR list:
Teatro La Fenice The Teatro Fenice has a remarkable history. It was first constructed after a fire destroyed Venice's leading opera house, the San Benedetto Theatre, in 1774. Bearing an appropriate name, La Fenice (The Phoenix) was inaugurated on May 16, 1792. During the 19th century, La Fenice housed the three great Italian composers of the period: Bellini, Rossini and Donizetti's work all premiered there. Tragically, a fire in December 1836 razed the building to the ground, but it was rebuilt and opened again in December 1837. La Fenice's international renown was firmly established when it initiated the First International Festival of Contemporary Music in 1930. Fate struck again in 1996 when another fire claimed the building. At last the restoration work is complete and La Fenice has once again been raised from its ashes and restored to its former glory! (Information from Divento)More cover art for Death at La Fenice: