Difficult Loves

Difficult Loves

Italo Calvino

Language: English

Pages: 300

ISBN: 0156260557

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Tales of love and loneliness in which the author blends reality and illusion. “The quirkiness and grace of the writing, the originality of the imagination at work,...and a certain lovable nuttiness make this collection well worth reading” (Margaret Atwood). Translated by William Weaver, Peggy Wright, and Archibald Colquhoun. A Helen and Kurt Wolff Book

Pomodoro!: A History of the Tomato in Italy (Arts and Traditions of the Table: Perspectives on Culinary History)

Eating Italy: A Culinary Adventure through Italy's Best Meals

The Conformist

Lonely Planet Sicily (6th Edition)

Malerba

Summers in Supino: Becoming Italian

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

as he collected them, sucking the moist, hard flesh as if from a spoon; the others he put in a basket. Every now and then he raised his eyes to gla nce, somewhat bewildered, over the smooth sea, and call, "Zeffirino! Whe re are you?" Zeffirino spent whole afternoons in the water. The two of them went out to the point; his father would lea ve him there, then go off at once after his shellfish. Stubbor n and motionless as they were, the limpets held no attraction for Zeffirino; it was the crabs,

naging it all without any ma ids. "Sell the house, and we'll spend the money," I say with a shrug when they start pestering me about how things can't go on like this. But my mother continues toiling silently, day and night, till there's no telling when she sleeps; and mea nwhile the cracks in the ceilings widen and lines of ants trace the walls, and weeds and brambles keep growing higher in the rank garden. Soon nothing will be left of our house but a ruin covered with vines. In the mor ning,

before? The rhododend rons stretched out behind him, a vegetable sea, impenetrable, with no trace of his passage. Perhaps he was already in the heart of the mine field, and a misstep could destroy him: he might as well go forward. This damned la nd, he thought. Damned right to the end. If only he had a dog, a big dog, heavy as a ma n, to send ahead. Instinctively, he clicked his tongue, as if urging a dog to run. I have to be my own dog, he thought. Maybe a stone would do. There was one near

they gorged themselves with cakes inside. "Go back and keep watch, go and keep watch!" shouted Baby angrily, the nausea from having eaten too much making him feel savage and selfish. Dritto knew that it was only fair to Uora-Uora to make the change, but he also knew that Baby would not be convinced so easily, and without someone on guard they could n't stay. So he pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Uora-Uora. "Back to your post right now, Uora-Uora," he said. Desperately, Uora-Uora thought

that Amedeo felt it would have been impolite to go off on his own once more. "Well," he said, "I'll stretch out and read here; I'll go get my book and pillow." And read: he had taken care to warn her. She said, "Yes, fine. I'll smoke a cigarette and read Annabella a bit myself." She had one of those women's ma gazines with her, and so both of them could lie and read, each on his own. Her voice struck him like a drop of cold water on the nape of the neck, but she was only saying, "W hy do you want

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