Novel about returning to Sicily.FROM THE After gracefully skirting a smoking Mount Etna, the DC-9 almost overshot the runway. Sicilia Bedda. Mike wished his children hadn’t stayed back in the States with their mother. Since their separation, he had missed both the fifteen-year-old boy, strong and brooding, and the fourteen-year-old girl, slim and so Sicilian in her looks, with dark, brilliant eyes and lips like swelling grapes. He had been his son’s age when as an immigrant he had left the island for America. And now, twenty years later, he had returned for a summer’s visit. It was a dry, burning August day. Mike had carried memories of river water, fig trees, carob trees, almond trees, prickly pear trees and lotus trees growing in the farmlands and mountains around his home town. But he had seen little vegetation as the jet had cut straight from home.His brother was waiting for him.
Novel about returning to Sicily.FROM THE After gracefully skirting a smoking Mount Etna, the DC-9 almost overshot the runway. Sicilia Bedda. Mike wished his children hadn’t stayed back in the States with their mother. Since their separation, he had missed both the fifteen-year-old boy, strong and brooding, and the fourteen-year-old girl, slim and so Sicilian in her looks, with dark, brilliant eyes and lips like swelling grapes. He had been his son’s age when as an immigrant he had left the island for America. And now, twenty years later, he had returned for a summer’s visit. It was a dry, burning August day. Mike had carried memories of river water, fig trees, carob trees, almond trees, prickly pear trees and lotus trees growing in the farmlands and mountains around his home town. But he had seen little vegetation as the jet had cut straight from home.His brother was waiting for him.