A Roman tax accountant befriends a heartbroken American journalist with heartwarming results.
In 2003, when Eat Pray Love author Elizabeth Gilbert nursed a broken heart with a triple-destination journey abroad, her first stop was Rome, where a mutual friend surmised that she and Spaghetti (his real name) would hit it off. Spaghetti’s endearing three-part narrative begins with his colorful Italian childhood, wrestling with a surname that begged for mockery and nurturing a love for professional soccer and folk music (James Taylor). He then details time spent immersed in American culture during a “dream” trip to Manhattan and a lengthy but magical cross-country excursion to the California coast by train in 1995. The final section chronicles his “extraordinary” friendship with Gilbert in Rome. An accommodating host, Spaghetti enriched Gilbert’s three-month stay by steeping her in Italian culture as they toured Rome “inch by inch” on a scooter. Gilbert’s easy smile and big-hearted compassion was returned by Spaghetti, who brought folkloric history, breathtaking scenery and a love of spectator sports and food to the table, especially dramatic descriptions (recipes and glossary included) of traditional “fettuccine al ragu” and 190-proof homemade limoncello, which could “cut your legs off at the knees after your second tiny glassful.” Part memoir, part informative guidebook, Spaghetti’s anecdotes are plentiful and immensely entertaining. He shares his “personal pasta ranking system,” in which “rebellious” bucatini earns first place but proves a “natural sauce catapult,” notes the ever-present “mocking, humorous tone” of the typical Roman personality and demonstrates an uncanny ability to present classic Italian landmarks and histories with the charm and passion of a seasoned tour guide. The author’s literary voice is undeniably warm and welcoming as both friends engaged in a cross-cultural exchange—a “different kind of love” that has been fondly immortalized in Gilbert’s bestselling book.
An enticing entrée of sweet amity and savory memories.
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").
Noted jazz and pop record producer Thiele offers a chatty autobiography. Aided by record-business colleague Golden, Thiele traces his career from his start as a ``pubescent, novice jazz record producer'' in the 1940s through the '50s, when he headed Coral, Dot, and Roulette Records, and the '60s, when he worked for ABC and ran the famous Impulse! jazz label. At Coral, Thiele championed the work of ``hillbilly'' singer Buddy Holly, although the only sessions he produced with Holly were marred by saccharine strings. The producer specialized in more mainstream popsters like the irrepressibly perky Teresa Brewer (who later became his fourth wife) and the bubble-machine muzak-meister Lawrence Welk. At Dot, Thiele was instrumental in recording Jack Kerouac's famous beat- generation ramblings to jazz accompaniment (recordings that Dot's president found ``pornographic''), while also overseeing a steady stream of pop hits. He then moved to the Mafia-controlled Roulette label, where he observed the ``silk-suited, pinky-ringed'' entourage who frequented the label's offices. Incredibly, however, Thiele remembers the famously hard-nosed Morris Levy, who ran the label and was eventually convicted of extortion, as ``one of the kindest, most warm-hearted, and classiest music men I have ever known.'' At ABC/Impulse!, Thiele oversaw the classic recordings of John Coltrane, although he is the first to admit that Coltrane essentially produced his own sessions. Like many producers of the day, Thiele participated in the ownership of publishing rights to some of the songs he recorded; he makes no apology for this practice, which he calls ``entirely appropriate and without any ethical conflicts.'' A pleasant, if not exactly riveting, memoir that will be of most interest to those with a thirst for cocktail-hour stories of the record biz. (25 halftones, not seen)