The Guardian (USA)

10 of the best novels set in Italy – that will take you there

- Liz Boulter

Long before Covid-19, there were always bad things in the press about Italy: corruption, mafia, bureaucrac­y. But, whenever I went, life seemed to work out even so. People may be poor but they still sit in the sun, drink and chat; music and culture are a birthright; the right seems in the ascendant but on the ground it feels blessed with far-seeing idealists – it has almost four times as much land under organic cultivatio­n as the UK, for example. For now, my remedy to the withdrawal symptoms I feel is to visit via the written word. Many writers have set books in Italy – I was sorry to leave out Martin Amis’s The Pregnant Widow (Calabria), and Ali Smith’s How to be Both (Ferrara) – but here are my top 10 romanze italiane.

The Other End of the Line by Andrea Camilleri

I can’t leave out my beloved Sicily, and of course that has to mean Inspector Montalbano. The stories are known to many in the UK from the TV adaptation­s, with their soaring aerial shots of Ragusa and other delectable spots in the island’s south-east, so why not spend longer in that southern sunshine with one of Andrea Camilleri’s books? An eccentric cast of characters keep things light-hearted, and there’s joy also in the detective’s food obsession: you can almost taste the red wine and fried arancini. But this is Sicily, so darkness lurks: mafia, people traffickin­g, drugs, racism. It’s hard to pick one novel but this one, dealing with a boatful of refugees, has the distinctio­n of having angered rightwing leader Matteo Salvini with its pro-migrant message.

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante

It’s been done on stage and TV, but Elena Ferrante’s tale (the first in her Neapolitan tetralogy) of poverty, amiciand mafiosi in 20th-century Naples is still best savoured in book form (though I appear to be alone in finding Anne Goldstein’s translatio­n clunky). Readers might picture Lenù and Lila growing up amid narrow streets picturesqu­ely hung with laundry, but in fact the book’s unnamed “neighbourh­ood” is not the historic centre but Rione Luzzatti, a blocky Fascist-era suburb beyond the main railway station. From here, readers follow the heroines as they mount expedition­s through the tunnel and along the stradone to the central Mercato district, wealthy Vomero and, fatefully, the beaches of beautiful Ischia.

Call Me by Your Name by André Aciman

The 2017 Oscar-winning film by Luca Guadagnino is a reasonably accurate rendering of this tender comingof-age novel, but to keep costs down, the director filmed in locations close to his Lombardy home – and deprived fans of some gorgeous views. The book is set on the coast near the French border – and the shimmering Ligurian Sea is almost a character in its own right. You feel the sting of hot gravel on bare legs as the young protagonis­ts (Elio and Oliver) cycle to sun-drenched sandy coves, the shock of an ice-cold drink in a shady garden. An important setting is “Monet’s Berm” – a secluded cliff ledge claimed by Elio to be the spot from which the impression­ist painted his View of Bordighera (the postcard poignantly hanging in Oliver’s study decades later).

A Room with a View by EM Forster

Forster’s 1908 novel captures the joy of escaping chilly Blighty for exuberant Italy. Ingénue Lucy Honeychurc­h’s experience­s in Florence are (speeding Fiats and noisy Vespas apart) littlechan­ged: the impressive Duomo with its shadowy interior, the banks of the Arno where she strolls with George Emerson. And the views are at their most glorious from hillside Fiesole, where Lucy falls on to a terrace covered with violets and into the arms of her husband to be. After a second half set mostly in Surrey, the book happily whisks us back to Florence, where a honeymooni­ng Lucy gazes out of Pension Bertolini’s window – at a certain view.

The Birth of Venus by Sarah Dunant

Head further back to the Florence of the Medicis with this absorbing story of spirited Alessandra making her way in a city becoming “locked down” by the zeal of fundamenta­list cleric GirolamoSa­vonarola. Dunant details the rivalries, politics and drama inside the family palazzo – in a newly wealthy neighbourh­ood east of the Duomo whose inhabitant­s can run to “torches in great iron baskets to light latecomers home”. But in the pursuit of love and art, the heroine, unusually for a young woman, also gets to roam the city in all its splendour, cruelty, summer heat and … plague.

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway

Trieste had barely appeared on Britons’ city-break radar before this millennium, but I lived there for a time as a student, and was delighted to find this novel mostly set in the limestone hills north of the city. The dramatic first-world-war tale of the love between an American ambulance driver and a British nurse takes us from Friuli to hospital in Milan, back to the front and on to an action-movie escape via the currents of the Tagliament­o River near Udine, before an emotional finale in Switzerlan­d. That the Mussolini regime banned the book is further recommenda­tion.

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim

It sounds as appealing today as it did when this book was published in 1922: “To those who appreciate wistaria and sunshine. Small Italian medieval castle on the shores of the Mediterran­ean

to be let furnished for the month of April.” The women tempted to shrug off wet and dreary Britain are older than Lucy Honeychurc­h, and struggling. “It would really be being unselfish to go away and be happy for a little,” says one, “because we would come back so much nicer.” Be carried along by the sensual descriptio­ns of the castle, gardens and olive groves leading down to the sea: “The sun blazed on scarlet geraniums, bushes of them, and nasturtium­s in great heaps, and marigolds so brilliant that they seemed to be burning … all outdoing each other in bright, fierce colour.”

The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco

If you’ve driven from Turin towards the western Alps, you may have spotted an imposing mountainto­p complex, the Sacra di San Michele. This was the Benedictin­e monastery that inspired Umberto Eco’s first novel (published in

 ??  ?? Montalbano moment … Ragusa, Sicily. Photograph: Jan Wlodarczyk/Alamy
Montalbano moment … Ragusa, Sicily. Photograph: Jan Wlodarczyk/Alamy
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