We have to start again, from the stones. This would be my contribution to the common good.
--Antonio Romani, The Patient Wait of the Stones: Time and Memory in Lunigiana
Last Friday, my wife and I went to an author reading and reception at the fine indie Battenkill Books in Cambridge, N.Y. That doesn't seem, on the surface, like a newsworthy statement, given that I've hosted or attended countless such gatherings over the past three decades as a bookseller and then editor/columnist.
But this one was special. We were celebrating the publication of The Patient Wait of the Stones: Time and Memory in Lunigiana by Antonio Romani, translated by the author and his partner, Martha Cooley. They both read excerpts from the book in English and Italian, then fielded questions, including the inevitable one about the popular fantasy of rebuilding an old house in Italy, which they answered with a gentle reality check.
Some author events have deeper roots than others. Since the 1990s, I have been Martha's reader and, briefly, her student. The Patient Wait of the Stones is the second release from Galpón Press, which was launched by Michael Jacobs and Sheridan Hay, both of whom I've known for a long time. Although I'd only met Antonio once before, I knew he had been a bookshop owner in Italy (always important street cred in my worldview) and I had previously read Time Ages in a Hurry by Antonio Tabucchi (Archipelago Books, 2015), which he'd also co-translated with Martha. But roots is not the key word here, or at least not quite the right word. Stone is... and stone is complex.
You see, there's this wall. It's located on Martha and Antonio's property in Castilione del Terziere, which lies in the middle of a valley at the extreme north of Tuscany, in an area called Lunigiana. In The Patient Wait of the Stones, Antonio chronicles his efforts to reconstruct the long-neglected, yet "splendid example of a dry-stone wall around thirty meters long and two meters high, elegant and solid--or so it seemed to me. It holds up the entire slope and our house, and the castle too. I started to stroke the wall, wanting to feel its skin, stone by stone.... Dry-stone walls had always captured my attention. Now I had one, and it wasn't a border wall; it was there to support the land, not divide it."
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| Martha Cooley & Antonio Romani |
The physical and mental demands of Antonio's work on the wall become both a catalyst and storeroom for his meditations: "Turning to trace the activity of the crevices in the rocks, I imagined that my wall could become a coded container of my memories--Why not?--along the lines of the brilliant idea of Giulio Camillo, the sixteenth century humanist who looked to the future in order to tap into memories of the past.....
"I simply liked the idea that my wall could become a theater of my memory. It was up to me to decide how to fill its patterns with meanings and choose which recollections to associate with the shapes I myself had actually created."
And so he does, eloquently, with moving contemplation of the past and present, including his childhood; his life with--and then, tragically, without--his late wife, Valeria; his years as a bookseller (where "books of all types, dimensions, and colors, assumed in my memory the appearance of a vast wall of stones, each different from the others"); and, later, his curious friendship with the Professor, the larger than-life owner of the village's castle. Then there's Antonio's reading life, the sustaining murmurs of favorite writers.
Antonio's recollections include his and Valeria's friendship with Martha (whom they met in the bookshop), which, with the passing of time, became an unanticipated love story ("To live in solitude, with Martha, as a choice not imposed except by my own will, I hoped, I could find the way to a balance point between anguish and indifference. In that kind of limbo between chaos and necessity, the stones whispered to me: you are free.").
You also must read this book to explore the extraordinary history of itinerant booksellers in the region seven centuries ago. "Before moving to Lunigiana, I knew nothing of this tradition," Antonio writes. "When I discovered it, naturally the figure of the itinerant bookseller attracted my attention. I too had begun selling books right in the middle of the northern plain."
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Martha Cooley, Antonio Romani, & Battenkill Books owner Connie Brooks |
It always comes back to the stones, though. "For some time now, wherever I am in the borgo my gaze has been drawn toward stones, almost as if responding to their call," he notes.
I know that call, too. Not from dry-wall stones, but from marble, some of it imported from Italy. My grandfather and my father worked in Vermont marble quarries and mills a long time ago. Stone triggers memories; it's in my blood. I still listen to the murmurs of stone men from my past.
The Patient Wait of the Stones is a gift for people willing to read... and to listen. As Antonio observes: "I seek a new belonging that binds tradition with an awareness of the sacrifices on which it is based. I seek this while pausing to hear, in the murmur of stones, the voices of those who knew how to pick up that murmur before me, in literature and art."