THE WOMAN WHO LOOKED LIKE SOPHIA L.

In this short e-pistolary novel, a seasoned American author, Giorgio, is caught between reality and fantasy in pursuing his infatuation with an Italian beauty.

He meets the full-lipped, bikini-clad Sofia on a beach in Parma, where he’s overwhelmed by her stunning resemblance to Sophia L. (as in film legend Loren, whose surname is never stated) and instantly smitten. She is overjoyed to discover that not only is he reading an Italian translation of the same novel she’s reading, The Yemenite Girl (the title of Leviant’s reputation-making 1977 book), but he wrote it. They flirt and hug and part as friends, with plans of seeing each other sometime again. The rest of the novel consists of emails between them in which she reveals she has two unsatisfactory relationships she is unable to end—one with her icy Finnish husband and another with a married Italian—and he shamelessly does all he can to get her to leave both men. He counts on his “surreptitious allure” doing the trick. Sofia writes in faulty English, occasioning dozens of authorial asides by Giorgio in which he pores over the possible hidden meanings of her Freudian lapses, misspellings, and shifts in her terms of endearment (“carissimi,” for example, to the less intimate “caro”). As for his own emailing difficulties: “When I wrote to her, I was split in two. My forked pen, i.e., my keyboard, said one thing while my heart/mind was thinking another.” Even with its interesting reflections on modern language and allusions to the likes of Dante, Dali, and Epicurus, the novel ultimately strains to be more than a stylistic exercise. The alternate beginning and ending aren’t needed. But the work is lifted by its wry charm and creepy cleverness. You can’t help rooting for Giorgio, sort of.

Amore, the new-fashioned way, with awkward results.