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The Circolo Fotografico La Gondola invited me to hear Professor Bruno Rosada speak about "Benedetto Croce and Italian Art of the 20th Century" on Friday night, and a very strange thing happened. I understood the lecture! Usually, I start to fade when people go on and on in Italian. It's hard enough to listen to a lecture, let alone in another language. But, this time, I didn't even have to force myself. It's as if all the words tumbled suddenly into place, and I thought, my god, after all these years, I finally understand Italian! The moment you realize you understand another language, it is something divine.

I've always loved philosophy. I started reading Nietzsche when I was fourteen-years-old, and even though I brag about never going to university, I actually did go to a strange college for a semester after I graduated high school, and majored in philosophy, with a minor in art. (After that, I decided to teach myself because the commute was too difficult; my mother had promised me the use of the family car, but then reneged, so I had to hitchhike to college!)

I won't go into all the details of the lecture, but what really interested me was when Professor Rosada spoke about how he felt at an exhibit of the artist Mario de Luigi, who was the father of a friend of mine, Ludovico de Luigi. Professor Rosada said he finally realized how art broke away from the figurative when he saw Mario de Luigi's work. Now, I am very outspoken about how artists must be able to create human beings. To me, it is essential. I would make a rule that all artists have to put their human beings next to their out-of-space projections, just so I know they can do if they want to. Like writers. These days, everyone has a blog; everyone has a digital camera; everyone is a writer; everyone is a photographer.

But, if I want to, I can write grammatically correct English (and I have put up an example under the blog "Church of San Francesco della Vigna" http://venetiancat.blogspot.com/2008/02/church-of-san-francesco-della-vigna.html.) To me, you must first learn the rules to break the rules (and I break a ton of rules -- it makes the copy editors crazy), but many people in the arts today are taking other people's broken rules and starting from there, without learning the foundation. So, today we have art built on broken rules that are not understood, only imitated.

I went with Ludovico and the rest of the family to see his late father's exhibit in Treviso last year, and I was completely blown away about how brilliant Mario de Luigi was. I had the same experience that Professor Rosada described -- ah, ha! So, that's it!

Anyway, on my way to the lecture, I'd noticed a new restaurant, and this was my reaction:

How cool is this?
It's about time someone put a hip restaurant out on Giudecca.
I would make a trip to come out here to eat at this place; it would be fun.
Wait, a second, I think I know the owner.
I think this is Simone's place.

I went inside. I asked, "Is Simone the owner?" They said, "Yes!" They said they would call him, but I said I would stop back later, which I did.

Simone is a very old friend of mine, even though he is very young. We don't see each other often, but when we do, we always have a profound conversation. He had told me about this project a while back, and now, here it was in reality, called "i figli delle stelle" which means, "Children of the Stars." And that, basically, says it all.

Simone has acquired a new sophistication, which comes with the job. We sat in the back room on a sofa and spoke. I talked about all the problems over in my neck of the woods, at Rialto; I told him I was worn down. Simone said, "Cat. In Italy, in Venice, every bad thing has an equal positive result. For every bad thing that happens, there is an equal good thing. The problem is that we only hear about the bad, not about the good. Like the newspapers." He also said, "The definition of what is 'Venetian' is changing. My partner, the chef, is from Puglia, but he feels Venice. You feel Venice. I am Venetian, and I feel Venice. A Venetian now is someone who feels Venice, whether they were born here or not."

During the Republic, there was a rule that to really be Venetian you had to have so many generations born in Venice behind you; I can't remember now exactly how many, but I think it was eight. And, these days, many people who were born in Venice come back here and try to stake their claim, when they don't behave like Venetians at all.

After a wonderful glass of wine and conversation, I got on the vaporetto and went back to San Marco. On the street, someone said ciao to me, and it turned out to be Paolo, the son of Sergio Fragiacomo, at Le Bistrot http://venetiancat.blogspot.com/2008/03/le-bistrot-de-venise.html. Sychronicity!

Immediately after that, a woman stopped me. She said, "Do you know remember me?" I said, "Honestly, I'm sorry, but I don't." She said, "We sang 'All You Need is Love' together at Remer." I said, "Oh, of course I remember you!" She is a pianist from Romania. She said, "Now I am playing in Piazza San Marco. Will you come sing it again with me? I sang it just tonight." I said, "Absolutely, when I get back from the mountains." (Just the thought of singing "All You Need is Love" in Piazza San Marco blows my mind.) She had three roses in her hand. She said, "Please take the roses. They gave them to me. I have more at home."

So, I went home with the roses, which I am looking at as I write this. As Simone said, there is good news here in Venice to balance the bad. The most wonderful thing about Venice, to me, is the people who actually live here, and interact with the town.

Ciao from Venice,
Cat

I started this post on Friday -- how did it get to be Saturday already?? Let me explain. No, eez too much -- let me sum up.

Chickens! On Thursday (after hot-footin' it out the door) I drove to LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER territory -- Comer, Georgia -- where Michael Hill farms and sells books for Harcourt.

Michael covers the southern region for Harcourt -- Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, the Carolinas, Florida (whew) and puts many miles on his car each season as he visits booksellers across the South, showcasing Harcourt's latest catalogs (both adult and children's titles). Michael and his long-time sweetheart Melissa (who also used to be a sales rep for Harcourt, and who owned a children's bookstore in Athens before that) have an organic farm in Comer, and live their lives as considerate partners with the earth, animals, minerals, vegetables... and books.

Here's part of the Harcourt Southern Region Sales Office, next to the chicken coop and near the John Deere (Melissa shows off a stack of this season's books):
Two years ago, when Michael and I did this part of the book tour together with EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS, there were four dogs who greeted me joyfully as I arrived at the farm. Now there are three. Spiffy (Bo-Bo's mother) died an old-age death, but Bo-Bo, Alice, and Hale-Bopp swarmed around my car as I arrived on Thursday morning. These gentle dogs were my inspiration for Eudora Welty, the loveable old dog (who does not disappear! Have I redeemed myself?!) in THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS.

Here's Alice wondering why Michael and Melissa are sitting outside in the middle of the day holding chickens. It's a board meeting, Alice (note rooster in background):









Recalcitrant board members:










And here's the house:
We're on our way to The Happy Bookseller in Columbia, South Carolina, a three-hour drive. Owners Andy and Carrie Graves have set 5pm as the time when kids, teachers, and parents will come hear the debut of THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS. After the signing, Michael and I will grab some supper before we head back home. It will be 10:30pm when we return to Comer. The chickens will be roosting in the hen house. The ducks will be back in the barn. I will pat Alice on the head, hug Michael, and drive home. It will be midnight as I pull into my driveway, back home in Tucker, Georgia. It will have been a day well-spent -- good conversation, good friends... and a good signing, too.

Here is the staff at Happy Bookseller in Columbia:

From left: Compton, Todd, Carrie (holding Henry, who will have a little brother by Thanksgiving), Thomas, and Andy.

At 5pm we shared stories. I told the assembled crowd that my books are fiction, but they come out of my history, my life, my personal (narrative!) stories. I read snippets from all three novels, and recited some of FREEDOM SUMMER... oh, and I sang ONE WIDE SKY. That book has music to go with its 88 words, thanks to my husband (still getting used to that word!) Jim Pearce. Kids had great questions, and great stories about playing baseball, which of course is part of what ALL-STARS is about (baseball, that is). I forgot to take photos of the comfortable crowd of kids, teachers, and parents, but I did think to dig out my camera as I was signing books.

Here's Kitty. Hellooooo, Kitty!

Kitty is an thespian and so is 14-year-old Finesse Schotz in ALL-STARS. "I'd be the perfect Finesse!" said Kitty. I have to agree, she's got the outfits down.








Here are Endea and Errin, sisters, with their mom.

Beautiful.








And beautiful is Makenzie, who plays outfield on her Little League team:

It was so good to hang out and catch up with the folks at Happy Bookseller again. Columbia has a great indie in Happy Bookseller. Andy and Carrie partner with the schools and community to bring stories to readers throughout South Carolina -- good work.

I came home with books, too: I was excited to find THE ECHO MAKER by Richard Powers in paperback. (More on Powers' work at some point.) Michael Hill recommended MISTER PIP by Lloyd Jones, about a man who begins reading GREAT EXPECTATIONS to a group of children on a tropical island... their lives transform. A have a character named Pip in ALL-STARS. I named him after the orphan in GREAT EXPECTATIONS, a book I loved in high school and studied again as I readied to write the serial story that would become THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS. Michael also gifted me with THE THEORY OF CLOUDS by Stephane Audeguy -- I'm looking forward to reading this one, too.

So this was the first stop on the travelin' book tour. I'm home for the weekend and will catch a flight to Jackson, Mississippi on Tuesday, where I'll begin a four-day whirlwind of schools, libraries, and bookstores -- do come with me as I head for Faulkner and Welty territory (we'll visit Rowan Oak and the Welty Home together) and family (and, Lord, you'll meet them, too). My stories take place in Mississippi, that land of those opposites Uncle Edisto talks about in EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS. I'm heading for the homeland.