Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity and well-being of our country. And, of course, it is a holiday for many people who ordinarily report to work on Monday morning.
Cape Hatteras. Photo by Bruce Barone. |
For some time my friend Doro and I had agreed that I would be his guest. I was very fond of Doro, and when he married and went to Genoa to live, I was half sick over it. When I wrote to refuse his invitation to the wedding, I got a dry and rather haughty note replying that if his money wasn’t good for establishing himself in a city that pleased his wife, he didn’t know what it was good for. Then one fine day as I was passing through Genoa I stopped at his house and we made peace. I liked his wife very much, a tomboy type who graciously asked me to call her Clelia and left us alone as much she should, and when she showed up again in the evening to go out with us, she had become a charming women whose hand I would have kissed had I been anyone else but myself.
Pavese’s nine short novels make up the most dense, dramatic and homogeneous narrative cycle of modern Italy, and also — I will add for the benefit of those who think this factor important — the richest in representing social ambiances, the human comedy, the chronicle of society. But above all they are works of an extraordinary depth where one never stops finding new levels, new meanings.
“We were at the age when a friend’s conversation seems like oneself talking.”
And, here, in closing, a photo of my daughter on the beach. It has always reminded me of an image from a Fellini film:
Danielle on The Beach. Photo by Bruce Barone |
Have you read Ceasar Pavese? Recently watched a Fellini film?
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