A mild satire inspired by Pulver and Burke’s list of fantasy novel tropes and clichés “And just what qualifies you?” the Priest of the Pram gods asked. “We’re short, for one thing,” the half-meter tall, dumpling-shaped man replied. “Not so little. … Continue reading A Nod to Satire
Clarice Miller was facing the mirror and arranging the neckline of her black sheath to sit squarely on her plump shoulders. She regretted the folds that puckered around her waistline but felt reassured that the artist would soften them in … Continue reading My Mother-in-law’s Favorite Joke
Nostalgia-Nostalgie Look at the list of current bestsellers and you will find an array of books about dysfunctional families, dystopian societies, global catastrophe, or protagonists living really screwed-up lives. The phenomenon is easy to understand. Many of us are coping with deep-seated anxieties about our world, our health, or even our survival. No wonder, then, that a little book, a collection of short stories, Le petit Nicolas (Nicholas) by René Goscinny and Jean-Jacques Sempé, appeals. It offers the reader a refuge from such cares. A wistful but unsentimental fantasy about a little boy living with his bourgeois parents in a … Continue reading Nostalgia-Nostalgie
Every morning around 7:00 in casa Chellini, Teresa the all-purpose donna, housemaid, and scullion would knock on our bedroom door, ask “Si puo?”which meant, “May I come in?” and after hearing one of us answer, would enter bearing a wooden tray always set with the same objects: several thin slices of stale bread or dry toast, two small slabs of butter, a tiny pot of jam, two coffee cups and saucers, and a small pot of bitter coffee next to a little sugar dish,two tiny spoons, and a small pitcher of milk. Continue reading A Tavola: Breakfast in Firenze
As I raise a warm mug to my lips, steam wafts over its rim and carries the citrusy scent of chamomile tea to my nose, a scent never failing to remind me of a very bad day. Decades ago, I was a student on junior year abroad in Florence, Italy. Enrolled in a class on the history of the Italian language I was supposed to attend at least twice a week, I thought at the time I had better things to do than sit in a dark, dank classroom in an old University of Florence building in Piazza San Marco. … Continue reading The Tea That Saved Me… Sort Of
It was autumn in Europe. I was in Paris. No chestnuts were in blossom. No holiday tables sat under the trees. The sky was overcast, and I hurried through drizzle without an umbrella. I’d taken a break from my … Continue reading Autumn: Paris to Firenze (Florence)
Marie and I, newly arrived in Florence, Italy, were strolling on Borgo Ognissanti and turned the corner to use public toilets at the Excelsior Hotel. Home was still a mile away and we’d had too much coffee at the … Continue reading A Close Encounter of the Italian Kind
“Vachement chouette,” a common expression for wonder and pleasant surprise, in the streets, in cafes, well, almost everywhere in Paris. Continue reading “Vachement chouette” or “Cowly Owl”
Some of the most endearing characters on Saturday Night Live! in the late seventies and into the eighties were Gilda Radner’s creations. My favorite was Judy Miller and her ‘showtime.’ Dressed in her GSA Brownie uniform, Gilda/Judy hosted and performed some of her ‘shows’ in the privacy of her own pink frilly bedroom. She crashed into closet doors, leaped on the bed, rolled around, and ran through a dizzying series of story lines until she landed, exhausted on the floor. The performances amounted to what appeared to be a great catharsis or at least an escape from a too real … Continue reading Dancing in the Kitchen
Last weekend at a local book fair, one of my friends dropped by the writers’ tent where I was promoting my latest novel, Where Dragons Follow. She asked another writer sharing the tent to take a photo of the two … Continue reading It’s Not My Skin…Or is It?
Susan Bass Marcus Writes 
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