cover, excerpts, and other curiosities
M iei good morning to all of you dear readers and welcome back! I have carefully considered your request and we hope you will be welcome if I present you with this post (ringing horns and rolls the tam-tam) several small changes:
The image you have chosen as the cover.
Two excerpts from many stories that make up the new "Gulls of the Stars."
e badabem, badabim, badabam
La foto del manoscritto originale di “Primus, l’uomo che sognava di vivere”, il primo dei romanzi della Seconda Generazione da me sottoposto in visione presso una Casa Editrice di medie dimensioni.
No, purtroppo il manoscritto non è in vendita né prima né dopo la pubblicazione (peraltro è ancora in mano al notaio…) anche perché non mi considero quel genio della penna valutato tanto oro quanto scrive dal mondo odierno. Sugli stralci vi informo che si tratta di due tra i racconti più lunghi di "Gulls of the Stars" and is not a coincidence that I chose the latter and not the others. Indeed "The Book of Life," the first anthology of short stories, is too short (not reach the six folders) and then I would not have made a good service also posted only a part. Instead "the Ocean of Time" is already known, having been published for the first time in 2007. This version, however, was subject to editing that has solved inaccuracies, typographical errors and repetitions in the first version that I remember, was never subject to editing. Hence the idea di fornirvi, libro alla mano, la possibilità di un confronto con quanti tra voi hanno già letto “Alfa e Omega” . Ovviamente, anche gli altri racconti hanno beneficiato dell’editing e il testo è stato da me sottoposto a una certa “presentazione” grafica che spero possa risultarvi gradita quando lo leggerete. Come vi ho già detto “Gabbiani delle Stelle” è una sorta di quadrilogia di un’unica storia, una sorta di romanzo diviso in racconti ciascuno dei quali ne è quasi un capitolo a sé. Completa il tutto la poesia “Gabbiani delle Stelle” che regala il titolo al libro, a questo blog e che rappresenta almost a kind of trademark for me. A book that I hope I have made it so nice, pleasant to read and to think about and maybe? Why not? On which to imagine a pair of seagulls flying shoulder to shoulder in the skies of life.
Introducing excerpts:
The sea of \u200b\u200bmemory
"The murmur of the sea that hides secrets few are able to understand and decipher. This the dawn of time, it is the guardian of great memories of entire lives, lost and found. When crying, seems to sense the sighs over the waters dark and the earth becomes sad, sand becomes sparse and the sky sheds tears that become one with those of the great ocean. Other times, anger for the contempt that people have of the water once it becomes clear upsets him and his anger high, ranging on the white crests of waves frightening mirror of his soul in the storm. An old legend, narrated by a man whose name is unknown, says that the sea is the only guardian of the soul of the world. This is why lovers sometimes seal their love in front of its waters and the man is upset by his appearance enigmatic and mysterious. Personally I have much to learn from the sea. It is vast and mysterious and, like many others, I too am drawn to the mystery of its depths untouched by its powerful and awareness. At the same time, however, I am also scared because I know that it is the guardian of the dreams of men. Some of these dreams are sweet and pleasant to watch, others are poignant and force the soul of who provides them to live them down in order to understand the meaning. When I went in the big house that stands near the sea to rest my mind was tired of the monotony of the human condition. Since that area was a perfect stranger, I should not waste my time on stupid pointless talk with neighbors and even I could find myself in a quiet solitudine dopo anni di lavoro…”
20.40 p.m.
“Il mare si è fatto scuro come le tenebre della notte più nera che abbia mai visto. Cosa sta succedendo ancora? Proprio adesso mentre sto scrivendo, avverto la velocità farsi ancora più rapida e il vento ululare intorno alla nave. Eppure la mia barca dimostra di reggere magnificamente questo mare sovrannaturale e non accenna al benché minimo rollio! Vedo in lontananza i bastioni di ghiaccio farsi fragili, non trovo parole più adatte per descrivere quello che accade, e disintegrarsi lentamente nel mare. Non ho intenzione di correre rischi inutili uscendo sul ponte perché il vento è troppo rapido e il cielo nero sovrasta ogni cosa dandomi l’impressione di una notte eterna. Dio del Cielo aiutami! La muraglia d’acqua davanti a me si dissolve come neve in una giornata assolata e la mia doppia mi rivolge un ultimo, esangue saluto prima di sprofondare nell’abisso!
La Star ’s Seagulls è libera ma il mare impetuoso la travolge, mi travolge, spingendomi verso i bastioni che a loro volta s’inabissano. Questo non è un mare reale, non è ghiaccio quello che adesso si tuffa nell’azzurro in milioni di spruzzi di schiuma. Niente di quello che vedo, ne sono sicura, è reale, ma tutto nasconde un messaggio che forse I do not understand. Joshua where are you? A huge wave, yet another, he slips on the hull of my ship carrying it with him. I would never have believed that such waves could exist! The sea rises, enormous, toward his opponent made of air and stars. I'm sure these are my last moments of life, but despite the terrible awareness of the imminent end I can not write. I wish this diary come to you, Joshua, because I knew that until the end you have been faithful. I cheated to be with you, my family, I came up against, and now that I left for you security and certainty you still can not break away from those who loved you and no more. Why love is so cruel? God! My boat dives in the blue wave swept by violence but I keep writing because this is the only bond that still unites me with you. Can be spent only few minutes after the vessel is free from the wave before. Now we have changed direction after a violent turn to port. "
The woman who whispers in the wind
" The reason that some years ago led me to spend some 'time in a Norwegian lighthouse is difficult to define in words. It was not just the desire to spend a holiday, as unusual, narrow contact with the jagged fjords of Norway and even the desire to spend a few days in solitude to escape the hectic life of modern society. And even if I just wanted to officially taking a vacation to unwind from the work of a very intense year, was more than that even now I can not explain. It is not uncommon that I move from mia amata New York, anche se spesso il motivo è da ricercarsi nelle conferenze che faccio occasionalmente, o per le presentazioni delle mie opere letterarie. Perché poi avessi scelto proprio la Norvegia come meta delle mie sudate vacanze è presto detto. Per un amante del mistero e dei luoghi suggestivi quale sono, i paesaggi incontaminati dei fiordi apparivano non meno allettanti delle seducenti sirene che tentarono Ulisse con il canto dell’Ignoto. Quanto alla mia scelta di un faro si deve al fatto che non amo né le grandi catene alberghiere né i posti troppo ambiti dai turisti più modaioli. To be sure, not decided immediately to a lighthouse, as the manager of the tourist agency that contacted me as a guide to discover other suggestive alternatives. I remember very well the face and pulled accustomed to extreme environments of my guide. A man with short white beard and sharp eyes, protected by the old-fashioned glasses, which spite of his age to climb the cliffs that would leave people dumbfounded much younger. Johansen Olafsson was relatively quiet and spent most of his life at sea, as fisherman. Come on threshold of the sixty had decided to end his propensity for fishing and now control not only the tourist agency, also a modest inn where his wife cooked the fish every day and occasionally fjord fishing. To meet him, I had to move mainly by ferry because the same conformation of Norway, consisting of small islands and fjords more or less known, does not allow other forms of transport. For first thing I did visit the town of Skutvik that ... "
" I immediately recognized the place where I was and for some time che alla mia mente obnubilata dalla paura parve infinito restai seduto, inerte, su una sedia sbucata chissà da dove che qualcuno mi aveva gentilmente posato davanti. Alcuni volti erano chini su di me e mi guardavano con aria tra lo stupito e l’indifferente. Non sapevo né chi erano né cosa volessero da me. Qualcuno mi porse un bicchiere con del brandy o altra bevanda simile che inghiottii in una sola sorsata. Poi, lentamente, riconobbi in quell’ambiente fumoso la locanda gestita da Johansen e dalla moglie and people who saw it were actually a few customers. Slowly regained the clarity necessary to realize the situation and figured that what I saw they were all fishermen, judging by their clothes . The inn was a room made of wood and gray stone consumed by age and weather, but the warmth that emanated from large fireplace in the middle of the room makes the atmosphere cozy and intimate . Of course, that environment had nothing to do with finest hotels that but many times I had visited the inn, and quite m'instillò at first a sense of peace that I desperately need. A woman with a ruddy face approached me breathless, wondering something . It was Greta, the wife of Johansen, who expressed in a language halfway between the Norwegian and English patched he never failed to make me smile benevolently. From what little I knew language I sensed, rather than understanding, that I was asking if I wanted something to eat. I nodded silently, and almost lifted me up to Johansen weight for me to sit by the fireplace. Tables do not see her, but I noticed that meals were eaten sitting at a huge wooden bar overload of glasses filled with a dark beer that I later discovered be produced by the old Johansen in person. After initial dismay caused by my arrival, these returned to sit down and no one spoke to me and this was their deeply grateful. In I do not really know what to say and not only because of my lack of mastery of their language. Actually I was surprised the apparent indifference that now ostentatious, as if watching a man with ragged clothes that up a few moments before had shouted unconnected sentences were a simple case, a minor oversight. This was a detail that seemed to me suspicion but kept the thing for me. After all, what was I supposed to say? When the warmth of the fireplace dispelled my chills, I approached the counter dove la donna serviva gli ospiti con rapidità e competenza. Fino a quel momento non mi ero ancora accostato alla tipica cucina norvegese ma quella sera avrei scoperto, non senza una punta di stupore, che i pasti non avevano nulla da invidiare a quelli preparati nei luoghi più rinomati. Qualcuno si mise a suonare la fisarmonica e il chiacchiericcio dei miei simili si fece strada nella mia mente lasciandomi quasi l’impressione che ciò che avevo vissuto fino a poche ore prima fosse soltanto un sogno.”
Massimo Valentini
