Making Italy Home : An Essay Review of Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes.

By: Mia Brady

What is it about a place that makes it home? I explored this question when studying  abroad in Italy. To say that living in Florence changed my life does not begin to explain the impact it had on me for the better.  Florence became my home. After my phenomenal experience  studying  abroad in Italy, I was drawn to reading a travel memoir taken place in Italy. I initially shied away from reading Under the Tuscan Sun: At Home in Italy by American poet, professor and writer Frances Mayes. After having seen the film about a   middle-aged woman moving to Italy on a whim, I deemed the book to be a cliché travel piece. But after a trusted opinion that the film version is not up to pair with the book version, I reevaluated my assumptions on Under the Tuscan Sun.

Upon conducting outside research, I soon realized that the film and book were not comparable. General consensus seemed to be that the book lacked a steady flow of storyline, despite the fact that it was on the NY Times Best Seller List for two years. Various reviewers on  Goodreads, a trusted  book  review  and  rating  website  I’ve  used  for  years,  downgraded  the  travel  piece  for excessive description. User “Leftbanker” gave the book one out of five stars in his  review, claiming “I would estimate that a good half of this book is made up of adjectives. Every noun is propped up by a description, as if nothing is able to stand on its own.” His cynical take on excessive description did not turn me away from the book. I am a lover of detail, and unlike many readers, appreciate what detail can bring to a book. Also unlike many of these reviewers,  I was reading Under the Tuscan Sun, in part, to compare the author’s experience to my own.

Upon reading further recommendations on Goodreads, I came across a  five star review from user, “Tara” that sealed the deal for me. She wrote, It’s not all sweeping vistas and Renaissance churches in this telling; Mayes transforms the details of daily life, and she considers  big questions,  too… the colors and textures and tastes daily encountered are all given their moments. The next moment, Mayes ruminates on  the  vagaries  of  renovating  a  house  in  a  foreign  country  (this  is  what  the  book  is ostensibly  about),  the  reasons  a  person  leaves  their  own  homeland  to  find  a  home elsewhere, and the ways a person is changed by what they find in that elsewhere.

I  was  stricken  by  this  Goodreads  user’s  review.  While  the  “sweeping  vistas  and  Renaissance churches” were exceptional components of my experience living in Italy, it was my own moments of “colors and textures and tastes” that made it the life-changing experience that it was. When I picked up the book for the first time, I found that Goodreads reviewer Tara’s stellar observation about Mayes’ search for a home was proven true. The author writes,

 Details of farm living, cooking, food and culture, as well as the overall joy of living a much different lifestyle than most Americans, appealed to me in an exceptional way. Unlike some reviewers, the detail is what kept me going. I found that is is through these descriptions that Mayes’ truly makes Italy her home. She focuses on the minute details of her day-to-day life, furthermore, proving that she is enthralled with Italy not as a result of the famous sites, like the Florentine Duomo, but rather because of “moments” spent in her quiet olive garden or walking along the crumbling stone wall along her street.

When look back on older reviews of Under the Tuscan Sun, I came across the New York Time’s review of the book from November 1996, written by Alida Becker and entitled “A Domestic Sensualist”.

…but what Ms. Mayes mostly provides are the kind of satisfyingly personal crotchets and enthusiasms you might exchange with an old friend over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table… Casual and conversational, her chapters are filled with craftsmen and cooks, with exploratory jaunts into the countryside — but what they all boil down to is an intense celebration of what she calls ”the voluptuousness of Italian life” (Becker).

I was happy to see that the NYTimes Book Review author had positive feedback on Mayes’ book, and understood her detail. As Becker notes, Mayes addresses her readers as old friends, providing them  with  thick  descriptions  of  her  day-to-day  life.  It  is  this  detail,  about  tasks,  activities  and experiences, which makes Mayes’ book so memorable.

At the start of the book, Mayes provides a detailed description of the setting of Bramasole, the house she and her romantic partner end up buying.

… a dignified house near a Roman road, an Etruscan (Etruscan!) wall looming at the top of the hillside, a Medici fortress in sight, a view towards Monte Amiata, a passageway and still uncounted apricot, almond, apple, and pear trees. Several figs seem to thrive near the well. Besides the front steps there’s a large hazelnut. Then, proximity to one of the most superb towns I’ve ever seen. Wouldn’t we be crazy not to buy this lovely house called Bramasole? (26)

While many may consider  this detail excessive,  I find it necessary.  How are we to understand Mayes’ draw to this remote location if it is not for her description? Through this description, I found myself learning more about Mayes as a person; that she was drawn to recognize and appreciate the fruit trees and the looming road.

I not only enjoyed Mayes’ detail regarding location, but I also resonated with it. When spending my semester in Italy, I often wrote my grandmothers, who are both very fond of sending letters. I found myself recollecting the tiniest details for them. While they loved hearing about all of the famous sites I was seeing, it was the hidden treasures that they enjoyed the most; the little gelato shop on the corner, the woman across the street who waved to us each every night, the expensive ristorante on the corner, always filled with tourists. Having  spoken to my grandmothers after I returned from Italy, it was these details that led them to see how much I truly enjoyed  and  felt  at  home  in  Florence.  Just  as  I  shared  my  minute  observations  with  my grandmothers, Mayes shares her minute observations with the reader.

A major  component  of Mayes’  book  is her discussion  of rebuilding  her home.  When  reading reviews,  I noticed  most  complaints  were  about  her seemingly  excessive,  intricate  detail  of her crumbling home. After reading the book, I realize that the detail is not excessive, but rather it lets the  reader  into  Mayes’  journey  through  discovery.  She  discovers  her  own  feelings  about  Italy through  the restoration  of this house,  and by truly turning  it into her home.  It is through  the observation  of  Mayes’  putting  her  heart  and  soul  into  this  restoration  that  the  reader  fully understands how she grows into her love for this country.

As each room is finished, my job is to paint the battascopa, a six-inch-high gray strip along the bases of the walls, a kind of pseudo-moulding  that is traditional in old houses of this area. Usually it’s a brick color but we prefer the lighter touch. The word means broom-hit. The darker paint doesn’t show the marks of the mops and brooms that must constantly pass over these floors. Almost upside down, I measure six inches in several places, tape the floor and wall, then quickly paint and pull off the tape. (100)

The reader feels as if they are in the house with Mayes, with her with each stroke of paint, with each striping of the tape. The feeling of accomplishment with each step is what makes this an autobiographical piece. We learn that Mayes is a go-getter, and that she thrives from her sense of accomplishment.  Yet the memoir  is also a biography  of Bramasole;  we see the home develop through Mayes’ dedication. As Mayes’ describes of her dedication to her home, “In the mornings, we  both  [Mayes  and  Ed,  her  significant  other]  have  surges  of  new  energy  that  come  from somewhere.  We  plug  right  back  in.  We’re  consumed.  I’m  amazed:  the  relentlessness  we’ve developed” (101).

The world relentlessness really struck me when used in this context. Mayes and Ed are relentless in their restoration, but they are also relentless in their discovery of Italy through different facets of life; one  of  which  is  clearly  building  their  home.  I  found  that  relentlessness  was  a  quality  that  I implemented on a regular basis through my time spent in Italy. In order to make the city of Florence my home, it was essential that I was relentless in my discovery; always exploring and always willing to learn. Looking back on those three months, it was the time I spent learning and growing that led me to consider Florence my home. Mayes’ relentless in growth and development resonates with my own growth and development while living in Italy.

Food is an integral component of Mayes’ book. Certain chapters are filled with recipe after recipe, shedding light on the time, effort and passion that Mayes put into the preparation of her food. To me, Mayes including details on the cooking process and recipes in her Italian experience  makes perfect sense; it pays tribute to this book as not only a autobiographical piece, as it portrays Mayes’ love of cooking, but as a book that has a clear sense of cultural understanding.  She adapts the overall passion that she has for food, and adds it to the cultural significance that Italians place on food, combining the two to further develop Italy as her home. When listing recipes, Mayes adds uniqueness. Certain recipes stood out to me as having a particular display of cultural understanding. A recipe for Pea and Shallot Bruschetta is a prime example. Mayes writes in the description of the recipe: