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Sometimes the Soul: Two Novellas of Sicily
Winner of an American Book Award from the Before Columbus Foundation
"No one in the world . . . can tell a story better than Gioia Timpanelli."--Frank McCourt, author of Angela's Ashes
"Gioia Timpanelli's novellas . . . offer simple lessons about the nature of beauty and the beauty of nature . . . in rich, incantatory language." -- The New York Times Book Review
A renowned storyteller who has beguiled audiences around the world offers these mesmerizing novella-length fables about two young women and the transformative power of art. In "A Knot of Tears," a baroness locks herself up in the Green Palace, only to have her seclusion interrupted by a parrot that flies through the window. When a sailor arrives to retrieve his companion, the young man and his pet delight her with three inspiring stories, while an unscrupulous suitor schemes to lure her out of her house and into his arms. In "Rusina, Not Quite in Love," Timpanelli recasts "Beauty and the Beast" as the tale of a loving young heroine who escapes her poor family to live at the estate of Signor Sebastiano. A devastatingly ugly man who prefers plants to people, Sebastiano leads Rusina to the true meaning of beauty. Lyrical, enchanting, wise, these timeless stories are, in the words of the baroness, "simple, but not so simple," as they enlighten readers about the virtues of love, solitude, and art.
"Gioia Timpanelli's stories . . . are dreams . . . and these dreams, in the skill of their telling, lead us back to ourselves." -- The Boston Globe
"This is brilliant writing . . . [that] changes tales into fresh literature . . . by the passion of an educated person for the great things in plants, works of art, talk at dinner, and devotion." --Robert Bly
"No one in the world . . . can tell a story better than Gioia Timpanelli."--Frank McCourt, author of Angela's Ashes
"Gioia Timpanelli's novellas . . . offer simple lessons about the nature of beauty and the beauty of nature . . . in rich, incantatory language." -- The New York Times Book Review
A renowned storyteller who has beguiled audiences around the world offers these mesmerizing novella-length fables about two young women and the transformative power of art. In "A Knot of Tears," a baroness locks herself up in the Green Palace, only to have her seclusion interrupted by a parrot that flies through the window. When a sailor arrives to retrieve his companion, the young man and his pet delight her with three inspiring stories, while an unscrupulous suitor schemes to lure her out of her house and into his arms. In "Rusina, Not Quite in Love," Timpanelli recasts "Beauty and the Beast" as the tale of a loving young heroine who escapes her poor family to live at the estate of Signor Sebastiano. A devastatingly ugly man who prefers plants to people, Sebastiano leads Rusina to the true meaning of beauty. Lyrical, enchanting, wise, these timeless stories are, in the words of the baroness, "simple, but not so simple," as they enlighten readers about the virtues of love, solitude, and art.
"Gioia Timpanelli's stories . . . are dreams . . . and these dreams, in the skill of their telling, lead us back to ourselves." -- The Boston Globe
"This is brilliant writing . . . [that] changes tales into fresh literature . . . by the passion of an educated person for the great things in plants, works of art, talk at dinner, and devotion." --Robert Bly
188 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
8 people are currently reading
196 people want to read
About the author
Gioia Timpanelli
13 books7 followersGioia Timpanelli has performed and presented world literature and poetry for NPR, PBS, and groups and conferences nationwide and internationally. Her first book of fiction, Sometimes the Soul, won the American Book Award. She lives in Woodstock, New York."
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
October 2, 2022
It is exceptionally rare for colour to be woven so gently into a story that feeling it is an unconscious reflex for the reader, but Timpanelli achieves this. Across both novellas she captures the intimacy of solitude and depicts beauty's pervasive way of breaking the barriers between people. These are stories about the importance of stories, about the richness of flowers, and about the many forms that love comes in. It is a book that soothes and replenishes the soul.
I would recommend everyone to escape into Timpanelli's gardens.
I would recommend everyone to escape into Timpanelli's gardens.
December 30, 2018
I’ve never read a book quite like this one. I feel there is a lot that I missed on this first read through. I feel like this is the kind of book that the message is different for each person and varies depending on the mood/time/feelings/circumstances of the reader. I very much look forward to reading this again and seeing what I take away from it that time.
dnf
June 11, 2018I am in a slump and it’s so sad! Wasn’t really enjoying this one so I put it down. Read a fair bit. But not really sure if I’m just not into the writing or my interest is just not being held in a book at the moment. Hopefully revisit this later.
August 11, 2024
Second novella was a lot better than the first one; had me crying in the Info Hut at work
September 4, 2015
I loved the retelling of the two tales and the twist at the end of the second novella.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 25, 2022
There was something quietly mesmerizing about these two novellas.
May 17, 2015
Un giorno capirò quale demonio consigli il curatore dell'edizione di un romanzo convincendolo a scrivere in quarta di copertina che "nessuno racconta storie come" l'autore del testo, oppure che si tratta del più grande narratore di un certo tipo in un determinato periodo, ammantando la capacità dell'autore stesso di una tale aura di universalità da costringere il lettore ad aspettarsi qualcosa che sia effettivamente universale come le promesse fatte.
Gioia Timpanelli è una brava scrittrice, ma per essere una buona narratrice saper scrivere bene non basta. Bisogna non solo avere le idee chiare sulla storia che si sta scrivendo, ma far sì che tale chiarezza traspaia dalla storia stessa, e soprattutto far sì che la storia abbia un valore intrinseco anche fuori di metafora: il messaggio, per quanto valido, non è sufficiente a dar valore ad una storia che fin dalla prima pagina si presenta solo come un contorno un po' sciatto alla metafora stessa -- è il caso del primo dei due racconti che compongono De anima sicula, Un gruppu di chiantu. La storia è in realtà cornice delle molte storie che racconta al suo interno, dei numerosi racconti che uno dei protagonisti sciorina col trascorrere delle pagine, ma tali racconti sono sempre spezzettati, inconcludenti e talmente simili l'uno all'altro che ho avuto spesso l'impressione che la Timpanelli stesse ripetendomi lo stesso concetto all'infinito perché non era tanto convinta dalla mia capacità di percepirlo, cosa alquanto frustrante, se non proprio offensiva. Gioia, l'ho capito, te lo giuro. Ma non basta mettere la parola fine per dare una conclusione a una narrazione.
Va un po' meglio col secondo racconto, Rusina, ma se proprio dobbiamo dirla tutta l'intreccio è la parte che funziona meglio, e la cosa è un po' problematica, dal mometo che l'intreccio non è della Timpanelli, bensì una rivisitazione della classica storia de La Bella e la Bestia, rivisitazione peraltro molto fedele all'originale, e abbastanza lontana, invece, dalla mitologia classica, che forse avrebbe offerto spunti un po' più originali perché meno riproposta nel tempo.
Quello che non funziona, invece, è tutta farina del sacco della Timpanelli: gli sconclusionati dialoghi fra i personaggi, l'odiosa protagonista perfetta in tutto e le cui qualità continuano solo a crescere nel corso della narrazione.
Piacevole invece l'atmosfera fiabesca ma profondamente attaccata alle radici siciliane -- ma questa potrei essere io che, come al solito, quando il background è quello di Palermo e del suo straordinario circondario, perdo un po' di vista il limite del mio sentimentalismo, e mi commuovo per un nonnulla. Chissà.
In ogni caso, un libro che lascia poco, ed al quale dubito sentirò mai il bisogno di tornare.
Gioia Timpanelli è una brava scrittrice, ma per essere una buona narratrice saper scrivere bene non basta. Bisogna non solo avere le idee chiare sulla storia che si sta scrivendo, ma far sì che tale chiarezza traspaia dalla storia stessa, e soprattutto far sì che la storia abbia un valore intrinseco anche fuori di metafora: il messaggio, per quanto valido, non è sufficiente a dar valore ad una storia che fin dalla prima pagina si presenta solo come un contorno un po' sciatto alla metafora stessa -- è il caso del primo dei due racconti che compongono De anima sicula, Un gruppu di chiantu. La storia è in realtà cornice delle molte storie che racconta al suo interno, dei numerosi racconti che uno dei protagonisti sciorina col trascorrere delle pagine, ma tali racconti sono sempre spezzettati, inconcludenti e talmente simili l'uno all'altro che ho avuto spesso l'impressione che la Timpanelli stesse ripetendomi lo stesso concetto all'infinito perché non era tanto convinta dalla mia capacità di percepirlo, cosa alquanto frustrante, se non proprio offensiva. Gioia, l'ho capito, te lo giuro. Ma non basta mettere la parola fine per dare una conclusione a una narrazione.
Va un po' meglio col secondo racconto, Rusina, ma se proprio dobbiamo dirla tutta l'intreccio è la parte che funziona meglio, e la cosa è un po' problematica, dal mometo che l'intreccio non è della Timpanelli, bensì una rivisitazione della classica storia de La Bella e la Bestia, rivisitazione peraltro molto fedele all'originale, e abbastanza lontana, invece, dalla mitologia classica, che forse avrebbe offerto spunti un po' più originali perché meno riproposta nel tempo.
Quello che non funziona, invece, è tutta farina del sacco della Timpanelli: gli sconclusionati dialoghi fra i personaggi, l'odiosa protagonista perfetta in tutto e le cui qualità continuano solo a crescere nel corso della narrazione.
Piacevole invece l'atmosfera fiabesca ma profondamente attaccata alle radici siciliane -- ma questa potrei essere io che, come al solito, quando il background è quello di Palermo e del suo straordinario circondario, perdo un po' di vista il limite del mio sentimentalismo, e mi commuovo per un nonnulla. Chissà.
In ogni caso, un libro che lascia poco, ed al quale dubito sentirò mai il bisogno di tornare.
November 12, 2009
Nov 2009. I would love to hear her read from these stories. As the Uncle says in Rusina, "How can sounds reach your mind through your eyes only--the ears are needed!" I think both stories would be more enjoyable heard than read. She seems a master storyteller, but her power doesn't come through as well in writing.
March 17, 2014
I met Gioia Timpanelli years ago when this book came out, and I tried very hard to like it. A family member took me when I was a kid and I left with a signed copy - I felt obligated to enjoy it. I have tried numerous times in the years since and have never managed to finish it. The prose is beautiful, but I just can't seem to find interest in the plot itself. It just... wanders.
February 15, 2022
really beautiful and atmospheric writing, but the stories themselves were just a bit... forgettable, I guess? Timpanelli is very gifted at creating and conveying a story's mood, but it never serves any real narrative purpose
(also "A Knot of Tears" is much better than "Rusina, Not Quite in Love", imo)
(also "A Knot of Tears" is much better than "Rusina, Not Quite in Love", imo)
October 3, 2022
Sicilian tale within a tale; doesn't really work for me.
Two novellas, packed in one beautifully-produced volume. The hardback has a creamy soft dustjacket with evocative black and white reproductions of the flower photographs by Karl Blossfeldt. Gorgeously done. Plus high praise in the dustjacket blurbs from Frank McCourt, Robert Bly, and others.
The first novella opens in a house in a Sicilian town. The beautiful Signura Costanza lives there, albeit hidden from the world behind closed doors and shutters. She is cared for by her housekeeper, Agata. We wonder what has caused Costanza to seclude herself: depression, grief, a deeply solitary nature...? One day a window is briefly opened, and a parrot flies in from the street, having escaped its perch on the arm a passing young sailor. At the same time, two men catch a glimpse of Costanza through the window and make a bet on who will court her most successfully.
This is the overarching tale, within which a series of folk tales from Sicily are nested. The sailor arrives in search of his parrot, and ends up staying for several days to help with household chores. At the prompting of his talkative bird, he tells a series of stories involving magical princesses, a girl lost in a cellar, a prince ailing for love. The sailor then helps Costanza avoid the attentions of the men who had seen her from afar.
The novella is generally atmospheric, though somewhat repetitive in its cycle of events (woman arrives at the door to tempt Costanza into leaving her home, parrot squawks a warning, Costanza decides to stay inside, sailor tells story).
The tale-within-a-tale structure also doesn't work very well. Given that the three folk tales are nothing very special in themselves, the author needs a clever interweaving of the different layers to make the novella sing. But the over-arching story has an artificial feel, as if only half-thought through. We never discover what emotions drive Costanza--why she was hiding from the world, or why she suddenly blooms into happiness and rejoins society after hearing the sailor's folk tales. Unexplained dangers emerge mid-story, when the good-natured bet between the men about courting Costanza morphs into a villainous kidnapping attempt. The novella has a sort of cartoonish quality: perils averted, affections declared, random events, all without real depth.
Altogether, not to my taste: I didn't start the second novella in the book.
Two novellas, packed in one beautifully-produced volume. The hardback has a creamy soft dustjacket with evocative black and white reproductions of the flower photographs by Karl Blossfeldt. Gorgeously done. Plus high praise in the dustjacket blurbs from Frank McCourt, Robert Bly, and others.
The first novella opens in a house in a Sicilian town. The beautiful Signura Costanza lives there, albeit hidden from the world behind closed doors and shutters. She is cared for by her housekeeper, Agata. We wonder what has caused Costanza to seclude herself: depression, grief, a deeply solitary nature...? One day a window is briefly opened, and a parrot flies in from the street, having escaped its perch on the arm a passing young sailor. At the same time, two men catch a glimpse of Costanza through the window and make a bet on who will court her most successfully.
This is the overarching tale, within which a series of folk tales from Sicily are nested. The sailor arrives in search of his parrot, and ends up staying for several days to help with household chores. At the prompting of his talkative bird, he tells a series of stories involving magical princesses, a girl lost in a cellar, a prince ailing for love. The sailor then helps Costanza avoid the attentions of the men who had seen her from afar.
The novella is generally atmospheric, though somewhat repetitive in its cycle of events (woman arrives at the door to tempt Costanza into leaving her home, parrot squawks a warning, Costanza decides to stay inside, sailor tells story).
The tale-within-a-tale structure also doesn't work very well. Given that the three folk tales are nothing very special in themselves, the author needs a clever interweaving of the different layers to make the novella sing. But the over-arching story has an artificial feel, as if only half-thought through. We never discover what emotions drive Costanza--why she was hiding from the world, or why she suddenly blooms into happiness and rejoins society after hearing the sailor's folk tales. Unexplained dangers emerge mid-story, when the good-natured bet between the men about courting Costanza morphs into a villainous kidnapping attempt. The novella has a sort of cartoonish quality: perils averted, affections declared, random events, all without real depth.
Altogether, not to my taste: I didn't start the second novella in the book.
March 30, 2024
“Storyteller” and “writer” are kindred words but they do not speak of the same art. When a writer creates a good story, a different array of tools and devices are used than a storyteller has access to. When a crossover is successfully achieved, however, something marvelous has been created. Timpanelli, now 87 years young, is a storyteller of well-deserved renown. In this book she has effectively transliterated her gesture, emotive voice, and presence into stories that thrum with the immediacy of a telling combined with the leisure-enabled dreams of writing.
There are two novellas under this title. One, the second story, will be vaguely familiar to the reader as “Beauty and the Beast,” but so far removed from the trappings of that old literary story (it was never a folk or faery tale) that it is rebuilt in a refreshing way. Faery tale updates are sometimes entertaining, but, to me, often remain flat or even lifeless. Not here. Timpanelli reaches into the story to bring out its soul and create, not just refashion, an intelligent and still dream-like story.
The first story is about the stories we need to tell, and the empty stories men tell themselves for all the wrong reasons. Stories go to the soul. What does it tell you if those stories are there for merely self-image? The settings for both are indeterminate. They could be long ago or some quiet corner of today. Like a storyteller’s inviting gesture and expression, the words take the reader to a place that levitates and allows recognition and thought.
Timpanelli is also joyously Sicilian, and that lays the groundwork for a lot of the imagery and vocabulary of the novellas. It helps in the immersion into the tales by placing them into both a recognizable and exotic location. These two stories are gentle and thoughtful. An easy read that stays with you like that pleasant last dream before awakening.
There are two novellas under this title. One, the second story, will be vaguely familiar to the reader as “Beauty and the Beast,” but so far removed from the trappings of that old literary story (it was never a folk or faery tale) that it is rebuilt in a refreshing way. Faery tale updates are sometimes entertaining, but, to me, often remain flat or even lifeless. Not here. Timpanelli reaches into the story to bring out its soul and create, not just refashion, an intelligent and still dream-like story.
The first story is about the stories we need to tell, and the empty stories men tell themselves for all the wrong reasons. Stories go to the soul. What does it tell you if those stories are there for merely self-image? The settings for both are indeterminate. They could be long ago or some quiet corner of today. Like a storyteller’s inviting gesture and expression, the words take the reader to a place that levitates and allows recognition and thought.
Timpanelli is also joyously Sicilian, and that lays the groundwork for a lot of the imagery and vocabulary of the novellas. It helps in the immersion into the tales by placing them into both a recognizable and exotic location. These two stories are gentle and thoughtful. An easy read that stays with you like that pleasant last dream before awakening.
September 22, 2021
Wow! If you are a storyteller, or like storytelling, here is a book for you. Gioia Timpanelli is considered by some, one of the greatest living storytellers. In this book there are two novellas, both a sort of fairy tale, but within them, both of the main characters keep a journal.
One of the stories leads us to Giuseppe Pitre (just by a comment) that had me research him, and he was a medical doctor that not only copied down stories from people that couldn't write, but noted their dialect. This greatly influenced another masterpiece by Italo Calvino: ITALIAN FOLKTALES.
Another takes us into one of my favorite topics and that is beauty. What makes think something is beautiful? I have worked with students that can't see with their eyes. I have asked them to write down their definition of beauty, and in one way or another, their definition of beauty is: How people treat each other.
I loved this book! My grandmother would have had me read it to her. She was a hearth storyteller, an the stories she told, I thought she made up, but Ms. Timpanelli and Mr. Calvino also pass these stories on. God Bless them!
One of the stories leads us to Giuseppe Pitre (just by a comment) that had me research him, and he was a medical doctor that not only copied down stories from people that couldn't write, but noted their dialect. This greatly influenced another masterpiece by Italo Calvino: ITALIAN FOLKTALES.
Another takes us into one of my favorite topics and that is beauty. What makes think something is beautiful? I have worked with students that can't see with their eyes. I have asked them to write down their definition of beauty, and in one way or another, their definition of beauty is: How people treat each other.
I loved this book! My grandmother would have had me read it to her. She was a hearth storyteller, an the stories she told, I thought she made up, but Ms. Timpanelli and Mr. Calvino also pass these stories on. God Bless them!
August 15, 2021
The first story was so fun and marvelous I put the book down for awhile not wanting another tale to intrude on the feeling. Finally, I picked up the book again and read the second novella. And a feeling of beauty has settled upon me. This author is a true storyteller possessed by an old soul. Exquisite, is that the word I seek, maybe, it’s as close as I can describe the feeling from reading this wonderful book of two novellas.
January 20, 2023
Two fairy tales set in Sicily. While they don’t give a true sense of time and place, they do transport you to another place outside of modern urban experience. I found the two novellas entertaining and immersive. I’m curious to know more about the author, an internationally known scholar of storytelling a story gatherer, and a story telling writer. Though I’m not clear on such immensely glowing reviews on the book cover, especially Frank McCourt’s.
August 9, 2024
Reading this felt like a devotion to felicity. Gioia Timpanelli teaches us so many simple lessons of the heart within this pair of fascinating stories. A quick, eloquent read and one I hope to revisit and reread time and time again.
June 26, 2020
Gorgeous and magical, like a meditation of beauty and spirit.
July 16, 2023
These stories were great. I especially loved the second one. Lots of descriptions of gardens, poetry, books, pottery, painting.
November 10, 2025
this is the best book on earth - dreamy
December 21, 2011
Two novellas, two different reactions. I'm starting with the second novella because it's the one freshest in my mind. "Rusina, Not Quite in Love" is mostly an enjoyable retelling of "Beauty and the Beast"--not the Disney version, but some other, older, more complicated version. The Aunt and Uncle with their bizarre habits and strange but insightful conversations were probably my favorite characters here. I also liked watching Rusina go through stages of learning with her drawings. The relationship between her and Sebastian, though, takes a large and unsupported leap at the end that felt rather abrupt. Also, I'm not clear on the purpose of her lethargy and forgetfulness after returning to live with her sisters--she's miserable with them, yet conveniently forgets for months that she has promised to return quickly to a place where she lives a much better life? This pushed my suspension of disbelief a bit too far, which is a little disappointing, as the title had potential and there are some really lovely bits of writing in here. Two examples:
"The man on horseback, sitting especially straight, did not look to the left or right of the highway, which after a while became narrower, eventually changing into a cart path, which in an hour gave way to a footpath, which all at once disappeared into a dark forest." (opening paragraph)
"'It is true,' said the Uncle. 'These old stories are like the parables, they tell us what we know but have strangely forgotten, until we hear it again and we say, "Oh! Yes. Of course."'"
I particularly like the second one, as it gets to one of the cooler ways in which these two novellas connect--through discussions of the role and value and experience of storytelling.
The opening novella, "A Knot of Tears," seems marginally related to the tale of Rapunzel, but doesn't follow it nearly as faithfully as "Rusina, Not Quite in Love" follows Beauty and the Beast. A young woman has shut herself (and Agata, her mildly resentful housekeeper) up in her home, refusing to leave or interact with the outside world at all. One day, the housekeeper talks her into opening a window to get some fresh air and, as she looks out the window at life on the street below, two men looking up see her and place bets on who will meet her first. Shortly after, a sailor's parrot breaks his tether and flies directly into this same window, demanding to be told a story. All of these components end up connecting in some interesting ways before the tale ends, some successful and others less so. We get occasional glimpses of the actions of characters outside of the house, but for the most part we're as trapped in there as Agata, listening to the stories inside of the story. Which leads to some quotes that caught my eye:
“'Oh, yes, yes, the silver one, but to tell you the truth, Signura, cages are cages.'
'But this one is beautiful, the silver quite special.'
Agata went off mumbling to herself, 'Beautiful? When are they beautiful? Ask those who are caught and put in them whether they see gold, silver, bamboo, or walls.'”
"Tonight when I heard a string plucked, the sound continued as the trembling of joy in my body, and I remembered everything and yearned again. But like Daedalus, I too, am afraid tonight. Between the soul and myself there is some distance."
“'But wait,' said Costanza. 'There is wonder when we watch Edmundo do his tricks. What if we knew the tricks and still believed in that wonder? Perhaps that is what a good magician shows: the possibility of magic while being deluded.'
'That kind of magic,' said Agata, 'is how I feel when I am listening to the old stories. We could hear them all night and not bother about anything but listening.'”
Come to think of it, I think my only real complaint with this storyline is that I'm never sure what exactly compels Costanza to re-enter the world at the end--the sailor? The actress? The journal her friends are starting? Agata? Her brother? Her newfound ability to yearn again? Maybe it was just time for her self-imposed exile to end, but it's never really clear...she isn't interested in leaving and then, suddenly, is packed and heading out the door without a fuss.
Overall, these are two quick and generally enjoyable reads. Set your expectations to "fairy tale" and you shouldn't come out of them feeling duped. I think I would give "A Knot of Tears" four stars and "Rusina, Not Quite in Love" three. This leaves me in a familiar quandary: bump to four or drop to three? It's a pretty close call, but ultimately I like the storytelling aspects enough it will probably get the bump.
"The man on horseback, sitting especially straight, did not look to the left or right of the highway, which after a while became narrower, eventually changing into a cart path, which in an hour gave way to a footpath, which all at once disappeared into a dark forest." (opening paragraph)
"'It is true,' said the Uncle. 'These old stories are like the parables, they tell us what we know but have strangely forgotten, until we hear it again and we say, "Oh! Yes. Of course."'"
I particularly like the second one, as it gets to one of the cooler ways in which these two novellas connect--through discussions of the role and value and experience of storytelling.
The opening novella, "A Knot of Tears," seems marginally related to the tale of Rapunzel, but doesn't follow it nearly as faithfully as "Rusina, Not Quite in Love" follows Beauty and the Beast. A young woman has shut herself (and Agata, her mildly resentful housekeeper) up in her home, refusing to leave or interact with the outside world at all. One day, the housekeeper talks her into opening a window to get some fresh air and, as she looks out the window at life on the street below, two men looking up see her and place bets on who will meet her first. Shortly after, a sailor's parrot breaks his tether and flies directly into this same window, demanding to be told a story. All of these components end up connecting in some interesting ways before the tale ends, some successful and others less so. We get occasional glimpses of the actions of characters outside of the house, but for the most part we're as trapped in there as Agata, listening to the stories inside of the story. Which leads to some quotes that caught my eye:
“'Oh, yes, yes, the silver one, but to tell you the truth, Signura, cages are cages.'
'But this one is beautiful, the silver quite special.'
Agata went off mumbling to herself, 'Beautiful? When are they beautiful? Ask those who are caught and put in them whether they see gold, silver, bamboo, or walls.'”
"Tonight when I heard a string plucked, the sound continued as the trembling of joy in my body, and I remembered everything and yearned again. But like Daedalus, I too, am afraid tonight. Between the soul and myself there is some distance."
“'But wait,' said Costanza. 'There is wonder when we watch Edmundo do his tricks. What if we knew the tricks and still believed in that wonder? Perhaps that is what a good magician shows: the possibility of magic while being deluded.'
'That kind of magic,' said Agata, 'is how I feel when I am listening to the old stories. We could hear them all night and not bother about anything but listening.'”
Come to think of it, I think my only real complaint with this storyline is that I'm never sure what exactly compels Costanza to re-enter the world at the end--the sailor? The actress? The journal her friends are starting? Agata? Her brother? Her newfound ability to yearn again? Maybe it was just time for her self-imposed exile to end, but it's never really clear...she isn't interested in leaving and then, suddenly, is packed and heading out the door without a fuss.
Overall, these are two quick and generally enjoyable reads. Set your expectations to "fairy tale" and you shouldn't come out of them feeling duped. I think I would give "A Knot of Tears" four stars and "Rusina, Not Quite in Love" three. This leaves me in a familiar quandary: bump to four or drop to three? It's a pretty close call, but ultimately I like the storytelling aspects enough it will probably get the bump.
August 28, 2023
Just read this divinity again and my first review is right I said not just 5 stars but One million stars
I couldn’t have been more enchanted reading these novellas, and won’t be more enchanted in dreams I may have of the beautiful stories
One million stars and roses I literally want to be buried inside of this book
I couldn’t have been more enchanted reading these novellas, and won’t be more enchanted in dreams I may have of the beautiful stories
One million stars and roses I literally want to be buried inside of this book
July 15, 2015
Lovely, poetic language but, as with many literary books no attention paid to plot or character development. You can't connect with anyone and no amount of beautiful language can make up for a mediocre story.
July 16, 2016
I had to force myself to finish this, even when I was only 15 pages from the end. There's nothing particularly bad about the writing of these two novellas, they're just painfully dull and uninteresting. A disappointment.
December 23, 2016
Two moderately long stories in this book, a new author for me. A Knot of Tears I found interesting but not very engaging. Rusina, Not Quite in Love, I found totally engrossing and beautiful (though not all my usual kind of read.)
Want to read
December 27, 2008alternate
October 21, 2009
tedious rather than eloquent, or even readable
November 18, 2011
I imagine, like others, and like other fairy tales, that these two stories would have been lovely in the spoken word. Written down, they were fine, but perhaps not memorable.
April 13, 2017
The first novella didn't capture my attention nearly as much as the second; but I did very much enjoy the second, "Rusina, Not Quite in Love".
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