I am instantly taken back to those late-fall mornings when we had to stand glued to others in jam-packed buses, never daring to grab a seat if one ever was free—fall mornings… I’d give anything to experience again the unmistakable snug feeling of bodies swaying to the rhythm of the bus, seeking warmth like penguins huddled together— … people going to work, to school, or looking for work, they were on the bus too, broken and sad, always sad, angry, and scared—of the cold, of life, of your glance when they caught you staring and looked away, their ragged coats smelling of weather-beaten wool that had just been in the rain and whose damp scent I’ve always loved.
— André Aciman, Roman Year: A Memoir (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, October 22, 2024)
Notes:
- DK Recommendation? Loved it!
- Book Reviews
- NY Times: “Roman Year“: An Exile Revisits the Squalor and Grandeur of 1960s Italy
- “Aciman evokes the passing of time in rich, meandering prose, rebuilding 1960s Rome in sentences suffused with light and sound and memories — the taste of an artichoke, the smell of bergamot and of Crêpe de Chine perfume. From the bewilderment of arrival, the young Aciman moves through denial toward a gradual acceptance of his new life. “Roman Year” is both an affecting coming-of-age story and a timely, distinctive description of the haunted lives of refugees.”
- Guardian: Memento Amore
- NY Times: “Roman Year“: An Exile Revisits the Squalor and Grandeur of 1960s Italy
Looks like a good read. I loved the excerpt. Thanks.
I loved it Darlene. He’s amazing.
Beautiful writer, his cultural richness fascinating in his books. But I haven’t read yet this book, maybe not here yet. But he has a place in my own library. Thank you dear David, amazing passage you shared from him. Love, nia
He says, “I was born in Alexandria, Egypt. but I am not Egyptian. I was born into a Turkish family but i am not Turkish. I was sent to British schools in Egypt but I am not British. My family became Italian citizens and I learned to speak Italian language but my mother tongue is French. I am African by birth, everyone in my family is from Asia minor, and I live in America.”
Fascinating background of your journey, thanks for sharing Nia.
He is a beautiful writer Nia. I’m now diving into Out of Egypt. I’m hooked.
He offers up such vivid, human moments as people ‘feel’ more like compressed humanity packed in like a can of sardines than sterile, hygienic public transportation. Beautifully written – thank you
Yes, exactly Mimi…I was swept away with his book.
From all the excerpts I’ve read I think I’m in love with this book. I love it so much this won’t be a digital read. I need to sit with this.
Thank you, David.
I loved it Sawsan…
Another passage:
Our years in Egypt sat like an unspeakable taboo that neither wished revealed. Egypt had scuttled our sense of identity and given it an unreliable, almost devious air. We were like children who’ve suffered an outrage but refuse to confide it to their parents because the shame, which should never have been theirs, was now theirs to shoulder. For us, identity was a mask, not a face. We were provisional people, born sidelined on the wrong side of history. No one was like us, which was why we hid. We were wrong people.
— André Aciman, Roman Year: A Memoir (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, October 22, 2024)
Have loved Aciman since reading “Call Me By Your Name.” This one looks to be an equally compelling read. Thx pal…
I read “Call Me by Your Name” and loved it too Lori.
such a sensory telling
Yes, exactly. Here’s another Beth:
“Could I smell one?” I asked. “Take one—here—this is the best of the lot.” I had never smelled bergamot before, citrusy but more than citrusy. It suggested numberless things without ever arriving at anything precise. I even liked the scent on my hands. Like music, it opened a universe of wonderful things, but I couldn’t name a single one. The man told me not to eat it, not even to bite into it. I pocketed the bergamot and started pedaling away, repeating to myself, “Bergamo, bergamotto, Bergamo, bergamotto.” … I fished out the bergamot in my pocket and smelled it, then I pierced the rind with a fingernail, just the tiniest gash, and out came a powerful scent that I was reluctant to decide whether I liked or not but which cast a spell all its own on the morning and the city, as if this was what the city smelled like, or this was how I wanted to redefine its smell and was trapping its memory for who knew how many years… The sun by then was pounding the city. I took off my sweater and tied its sleeves around my neck and finally sat down on a bench right in the center of the piazza. I spread my legs, crossed my arms, took out the bergamot, sniffed it a few times until I was no longer able to smell it, and felt as though I was free of every care in my life. Nothing mattered. It was just me, the piazza, the sun, and the muffled sound of the fountains. I was in heaven.
— André Aciman, Roman Year: A Memoir (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, October 22, 2024)
this descriptive passage reminds me of my favorite hand lotion– Aqua Allegoria. i don’t splurge on much in my life, but i treat myself to this lotion every year on my birthday. HEAVEN, indeed! “Bergamot is the key ingredient in the Aqua Allegoria collection. This body lotion reveals all the vitality of sun-drenched bergamots harvested in the gardens of Calabria, in Italy.” <3 … and thank you for the book recommendation!
Amazing! Thanks for sharing Ren. Appreciate it.
Adding to que. Thank you DK.