In the beginning, I was gearing up for what exciting adventures lay ahead and wonderfuly rich characters she would meet along the way...ah! it turned out to be the carpenter, the builder and the plumber. Redecorating efforts are rewarded with starry starry nights and organic utopia. The end was painful to read - it read like a daily 'to do' list. There are some nice poetic phrases: "I always have the odd and somber consciousness of how time peels us off...It's a deep wish of philoosphers and poets to search for theories on eternal return and time past being time present....how everything happens intensely even as it is disappearing." and "It is easy for foreigners to idealize, romanticize, stereotype, and oversimplify local people. Once the person is really known, of course, the characterization blessedly fades."

She writes about her appreciation for Italian art and history; I tried to follow but it's quite deep. Better if pictures were included to shed some light on the subject, eg. Etruscans, ancient artifacts, paintings, castle, church, tomb...even a little pic of her local piazza and valley would be nice. Highlight of the book was that paragraph on fig pollination and the death of the male wasp by sex. ( )

I liked the parts talking about the old villa restauration, but got tired of all the detailed descriptions of the days Mayes spent there. It may be that the constant present tense of the narration got to me in the end. ( )

The Italian life ... food; olives, cheeses, wine, etc... Beautiful descriptions and detail of renovationing an old villa. The property sounds like a garden paradise, and I am jealous of not being able to live there. The hardwork paid off; it was motivational and left me with a contagious desire to find a country home to refurbish and relax in. Must be nice to have time for a life like this. ( )

I've been so perplexed by reading the negative reviews of this gorgeous book. Many people complain about Mayes's "condescending" attitude. "Overpriveleged", they say. Some gripe that Mayes seems to dislike the locals; others say there's too much about food, too many recipes.

Hmmm...

I wonder. Are these people--maybe--just a bit jealous? Could that be the problem?

Regarding these issues, I finished this book a few days ago, and I did not see ANY of these problems. No doubt she and her husband have money; they could not have purchased and restored Bramasole if they did not. However I didn't see anything indicating she feels superior to anyone else. She seems to love the local people of Cortona; her neighbors are friends, the people of the village appear to welcome the Mayses when they arrive for the summers and holidays. Frances and Ed did not speak Italian when they purchased the house, but she talks about being able to communicate well enough with those who don't speak English, and it certainly seems they have learned enough Italian to at least get by.

Yes, there is some writing about food. Bramasole produces olives, grapes, and countless other fruits, vegetables, and herbs. She writes about how she learns how to use these items in her cooking, and yes, she shares some recipes. But it is in no way a cookbook. Food and wine are an essential part of daily living in Tuscany, so I think my question would be, why NOT write about it? Wouldn't you, in her place?

Frances Mayes's writing is sensual, as in, 'of the senses'. Reading this book, you can feel the warmth of the sun, you can smell the flowers, the herbs, the very air. You can see the greeny-silver olive trees, and the luscious changing peach tones of Bramasole itself.

I loved this book. I really loved it. To me, it was more about finding one's sense of self, one's sense of place in the world. I would never hesitate to recommend it to anyone. It's delicious. ( )

This memoir details several summers as a woman and her husband purchase a house is Italy and begin the long restoration process. As the house is restored, they become members of the village community, and travel around.

Frances Mayes descriptions of her life in Italy and the restoration of the house are wonderful, colorful reading. It's a delightful way to spend a few hours, delving into the luscious language of this memoir. There are a few spots where she gets a bit too deeply philosophical, stretches a bit too far, but the reader is soon back to the earthy narrative and the gracious neighbors and friends. Probably best not to read this book with an empty stomach as the many descriptions of food and drink will entice one to dream about their own trips to the kitchen, and to sun drenched lands where everything is lush and fresh. ( )