Saturday, 12 June 2010
Dreams of Venice
I knew I had on my shelves Carnivale by Michelle Lovric, and it was she who was giving the talk. So, I was pre-disposed to adore it. But - I found myself drifting off... (not helped by a slight fit of giggles whan she was talking about the 'Column of Infamy' that is hidden in the depths of a museum that she feels should be brought to light, which made me nudge Mr B and do a bad Frankie Howerd impersonation of 'Infamy, Infamy, they've all got it Infamy') it made me realise that Venice almost doesn't need any more stories. The whole place is a story. Layers upon layers of the most wonderful and vainglorious of histories superimposed on the stones. From the incomparable Venetian Queen of storytelling - Jan Morris, to the enormous ego of Erica Jong, they've all had their say on the enchanted city.
We finished our Ventian evening at Polpo in Beak Street where amongst the cicheti of taleggio, asparagus and prosciutto, the glasses of wine, the sound of the rain against the window and the chatter we could almost persuade ourselves we were back on the lagoon.
What to keep?