Rosanna Staffa is an exquisite writer. You can feel that from the very early pages; the tiniest strokes of observation create a deep world. We meet her protagonist Renata in Minneapolis where she is a tireless, tender acupuncturist, often trading her skills for food. While trying to make sense of seven years emigration from Italy and her charming husband’s unfaithfulness, a call comes in the night from her hometown Milan to say that her father is dying. She flies home where her anxious, somewhat inept brother meets her hiding secrets, and their beloved Papoozi is in his last days.
Milan and all the memories since she lost her mother young tug at her from every corner. Slowly, as days pass and her father is cremated, she begins to recall her young life. In the early days after her father’s death (“his arms lay limply on the bedsheets as if they weighed too much,”) Renata begins her to ask herself who is she is and where she belongs. In unraveling other people’s problems and loneliness, she begins to trace the history of her own.
In the beloved streets of her city, each stone or smell holds a key to the things that made her and how and where she wants to spend her days. As she meets family and old friends again and the man she had once so idealized, she begins to conceive of a new life for herself.
A beautiful novel of love, war, hope, and family. Read and cherish it.