Plenty of atmosphere and attitude, but not much else; this would have been better as a snappy magazine article.
Definitely not your father’s travel guide: A native Venetian offers some playful aperçus about La Serenissima.
Venice is a fish: “How did this marvelous beast make its way up the Adriatic?” Venice is a tortoise: “its stone shell is made of grey trachite borders…which pave the streets.” Venice is whatever novelist, poet and playwright Scarpa feels like making of it in his English-language debut, an entertaining, highly idiosyncratic look at la dolce vita veneta. Organizing his random agglomeration of musings by parts of the body, he suggests in the chapter on feet that tourists simply let theirs wander. “Why fight the labyrinth?” he asks. “Let the streets decide your journey for you…Lose your bearings. Just drift.” Let your legs absorb the never-flat surfaces of the city’s calli (streets), open your heart to the “permanent state of romantic excitement” that leads Venetians to make love outdoors on every street corner. (There are some hilarious anecdotes in this chapter, including one about a guy who offers a jovial “Hi!” to a passing acquaintance without disturbing the activities of his girlfriend, kneeling in front of him.) Hands (rubbing centuries-old plaster), face (hidden behind the famous carnival masks), ears, mouth, nose, eyes—each gives the author an excuse to strut his stuff. Scarpa provides insider information about the best local dishes (wholemeal spaghetti, fried sardines and calves liver, each sautéed in oodles of onions); about the meaning of street names, which generally commemorate “foul deeds and popular customs”; about why the city is plagued by flooding (deep channels dug in the lagoon to accommodate oil tankers). It’s all exceedingly readable and agreeable—and nothing more. Venice’s remarkable 1,400-year history as a crossroads between East and West is nowhere in evidence, and the city’s character is rendered in such broad strokes that it approaches caricature.
Plenty of atmosphere and attitude, but not much else; this would have been better as a snappy magazine article.Pub Date: Aug. 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-1-592-40407-0
Page Count: 128
Publisher: Gotham Books
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2008
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis...
Privately published by Strunk of Cornell in 1918 and revised by his student E. B. White in 1959, that "little book" is back again with more White updatings.
Stricter than, say, Bergen Evans or W3 ("disinterested" means impartial — period), Strunk is in the last analysis (whoops — "A bankrupt expression") a unique guide (which means "without like or equal").Pub Date: May 15, 1972
ISBN: 0205632645
Page Count: 105
Publisher: Macmillan
Review Posted Online: Oct. 28, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 1972
This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)
Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996
ISBN: 0-15-100227-4
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996
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