Gondola

Donna Leon's brief, charming paean to "the sleek, mysterious gondola, the boat whose name and image are inextricably linked with the city". The intertwined histories of Venice and the gondola are illuminated through amusing anecdotes (her recounting of the call and response between a gondoliere and the dachshund Artù is riotous); gorgeous illustrations from Canaletto, Carpaccio and Guardi; and Leon's love of the city, tempered (in both senses!) by her dismay at the assaults of cruise ships, pollution and corruption.  An accompanying CD includes barcarole sung for centuries by gondolieri and here re-created by Il Pomo d'Oro, featuring the exceptionally versatile and talented singer Vincenzo Cappezzuto, with a special guest appearance by Cecilia Bartoli.  It's the next best thing to a trip to Venice.

My Venice and Other Essays

Donna Leon was born in Montclair, New Jersey, but lived in Venice for over 30 years.  She is best known as the author of the Commissario Brunetti mystery series (>32 books and counting) all set in Venice.  The Commissario is calm, decent, humble, smart and immensely likable - and the mysteries are well-crafted and quite revealing of life in Italy.  But Leon also has written many essays and other books. One is a delightful book on Gondolas, which is accompanied by a CD with gondolier songs in the Venetian dialect sung by a lively virtuoso (Leon is a music aficionado who is mad about Handel - as she describes deliciously in one of this book's essays).

Brunetti's wife Paola is very likable, but has strong, forceful views - In real life, Leon seems to be like Paola - only more outspoken and forceful!  These essays can be charming, humorous, or blistering attacks on customs or viewpoints that Leon finds intolerable.  Since I agreed with almost all her views, I found the essays to be very entertaining!  Below is an excerpt from one essay, which she introduces by explaining that she had called her plumber, who finally arrives three hours late, and offers this explanation:

"Giorgio's putting in a new bathroom." The plumber lives in my neighborhood, and both of us buy our fruit and vegetables from Signor Giorgio.

Curious about any bit of neighborhood gossip, I asked, "What's he doing to the bathroom?"

"He's putting in new fixtures and lining the walls with black marble." 

"Black marble?"

"Yes"

"Giorgio?"

"Yes"

"Giorgio il fruttivendolo?"

"Oh, no, that other Giorgio. The nice one from Rome who bought the palazzo around the corner. Giorgio Whats-His-Name? Olmini? Olmoni?"

This couldn't be. "Giorgio Armani?" I asked, voice tentative.

"Yes, that's right. Armani, that's his name. Is he a friend of yours? Do you know him?"

No, I didn't know him, but I wish I did, for I'd love to tell him the story.