In September, in the car of a friend, I first met the book If on a winter’s night a traveler. It was in the original Italian, the language of the author Italo Calvino which was a language my friend was learning via memorising this book. As a test of his progress, he recited the first few pages in Italian, with great expression and flourishing gestures – missing the same turn three times while doing so. I would never have told him when to turn because I wanted the recitation to continue. Every few lines he would translate what he had said; even so roughly translated I determined I must read the book (in English) and so made a note of the title.
Later in September Continue reading “If on a winter’s night a traveler”