Read Online The City and the House by Natalia Ginzburg - Free Book Online
Authors: Natalia Ginzburg
Ads: Link
room which has the chest of drawers with the tortoises carved on it, and the mirror with the dark stains. Itâs the best room. Lucrezia had made him a big dinner with roast chickens, salads and vegetable pies. She wanted to make a meat-loaf but Piero didnât let her because her meat-loaves fall apart, as you know. Piero is under some obligation to Serenaâs father because it was he who found him that job in Perugia in Doctor Corsiâs office all those years ago. Now Piero and Doctor Corsi have become partners. Doctor Corsi came to the dinner, and also to the performance. Ignazio Fegiz was at the dinner but he didnât come to the play; he said he had a headache and stayed behind at the house. Under his breath he told us that he didnât want to know anything about Danteâs wife. He preferred Dante. Usually he sleeps in the room with the tortoises, but this time they gave him the little room on the top floor, the one where there are quilts with dragons on them.
Goodbye, we shall stop this letter because we realize we are just piling up pointless details.
Egisto and Albina
GIUSEPPE TO LUCREZIA
Princeton, 24th December
I have been in Princeton for a fortnight. I have had a letter from Piero and one from Egisto and Albina together. I havenât had so much as a line from you. I wish you a Happy Christmas.
Princeton is a very small town, very beautiful, full of parks. It is cut down the middle by a street called Nassau Street. From my window I can see parks, little houses, and trees with the famous squirrels that you were so curious about. My room is on the ground floor. The wallpaper has flying bear-cubs on it, every bear-cub has a red balloon. It was evidently the childrenâs room when the previous occupants were here. My brother said that he hadnât had time to change the wallpaper. I said I didnât mind, though to tell the truth Iâd have preferred it if he had had it changed. Itâs a two-storey house. My brother and Anne Marie sleep upstairs. She has left the flat she used to have and has had her furniture - which includes an armchair that has been put in my room - brought here. Itâs the one Iâm sitting in at the moment, as I write. I have a sofa-bed to sleep on. It was a little difficult for me to open and close it at first, but I have learnt how to do it now.
I am in good health. I spend hours every day in my room. I have started to write a novel. I used to write novels when I was twenty. I never finished any of them. Perhaps I shall manage to finish this one. My brother and Anne Marie donât know that I am writing a novel. I told them I was writing a paper on Flaubert.
I write in longhand, sitting in an armchair with a large book on my knees and the paper resting on the book. I have never liked typing. True, I used to write articles on the typewriter, but when I write anything else, anything that is not meant for the newspapers, I prefer to use a ballpoint pen. But generally speaking I have kept very little of the things that I have written in ballpoint throughout my life. When I re-read them I felt uncomfortable and tore them up. Now I would like to see if I can manage to write something I shanât tear up.
I wake up early in the morning. Before I get up I stare for a long time at the bear-cubs and the balloons. Then I go into the kitchen and make myself a coffee. Anne Marie comes in a little later, in her dressing-gown, and she starts to make the breakfast for my brother and herself. She heats up the milk, toasts the bread, beats the eggs. In the morning she doesnât have her hair in a bun, instead it is gathered in a long plait. She smiles all the time. She smiles with her mouth, but her eyes and the rest of her face donât smile. She and I sometimes talk to one another in English and sometimes in French, but we have nothing to say to each other in any language. Then my brother appears from the bathroom in his striped dressing-gown. They
Goodbye, we shall stop this letter because we realize we are just piling up pointless details.
Egisto and Albina
GIUSEPPE TO LUCREZIA
Princeton, 24th December
I have been in Princeton for a fortnight. I have had a letter from Piero and one from Egisto and Albina together. I havenât had so much as a line from you. I wish you a Happy Christmas.
Princeton is a very small town, very beautiful, full of parks. It is cut down the middle by a street called Nassau Street. From my window I can see parks, little houses, and trees with the famous squirrels that you were so curious about. My room is on the ground floor. The wallpaper has flying bear-cubs on it, every bear-cub has a red balloon. It was evidently the childrenâs room when the previous occupants were here. My brother said that he hadnât had time to change the wallpaper. I said I didnât mind, though to tell the truth Iâd have preferred it if he had had it changed. Itâs a two-storey house. My brother and Anne Marie sleep upstairs. She has left the flat she used to have and has had her furniture - which includes an armchair that has been put in my room - brought here. Itâs the one Iâm sitting in at the moment, as I write. I have a sofa-bed to sleep on. It was a little difficult for me to open and close it at first, but I have learnt how to do it now.
I am in good health. I spend hours every day in my room. I have started to write a novel. I used to write novels when I was twenty. I never finished any of them. Perhaps I shall manage to finish this one. My brother and Anne Marie donât know that I am writing a novel. I told them I was writing a paper on Flaubert.
I write in longhand, sitting in an armchair with a large book on my knees and the paper resting on the book. I have never liked typing. True, I used to write articles on the typewriter, but when I write anything else, anything that is not meant for the newspapers, I prefer to use a ballpoint pen. But generally speaking I have kept very little of the things that I have written in ballpoint throughout my life. When I re-read them I felt uncomfortable and tore them up. Now I would like to see if I can manage to write something I shanât tear up.
I wake up early in the morning. Before I get up I stare for a long time at the bear-cubs and the balloons. Then I go into the kitchen and make myself a coffee. Anne Marie comes in a little later, in her dressing-gown, and she starts to make the breakfast for my brother and herself. She heats up the milk, toasts the bread, beats the eggs. In the morning she doesnât have her hair in a bun, instead it is gathered in a long plait. She smiles all the time. She smiles with her mouth, but her eyes and the rest of her face donât smile. She and I sometimes talk to one another in English and sometimes in French, but we have nothing to say to each other in any language. Then my brother appears from the bathroom in his striped dressing-gown. They
Similar Books
