Cold Tuscan Stone David Wagner (acx book reading .txt) 📖

“Well, someone in the office was of the opinion that a person with your multicultural background could be helpful in certain cases. I naturally assured them that you would consider it your civic duty to assist the police when asked.”

“Zio, don’t tell me that—”

Piero held up his hands and stared down at the table, as if his nephew was focused on trifles and it was time to discuss serious issues. “Bene,” he said, “we have established that you went to Volterra more American than Italian and perhaps returned the opposite. But, caro Riccardo, I would urge that you hold tight to your American passport to keep you from sliding completely into the cynicism you see around you. It’s your American side that endears you to me, and, I’m sure, to everyone you’ve met in Rome.” He put the spread fingers of his hands together over his chest in a gesture that was second nature for Romans. “But for the moment let’s both be very Italian and return to the important business at hand. How shall we finish this meal in true style?”

Once again, Rick thought, I must finire con bellezza. But this time it would be easier. “How about the cheese board, Signor Commissario? We haven’t had it in a while.”

“A splendid idea. But that will mean red wine. A nice Dolcetto d’Alba, perhaps. We are celebrating, after all.” He called over the waiter and gave him the order before settling back into the chair. “And what are your plans now, Riccardo?”

“My interpreting schedule is full through the holidays. I may try to do some skiing in January; a friend from college wants me to join him in the Dolomites. I’ll need a break from my work by then.”

Piero smiled. “Like the break you took in Tuscany.”

The waiter returned with a bottle of red wine, and Piero began to study its label as if it contained the missing clue to an unsolved murder.

Author’s Note

While this story and all its characters are pure fiction, Volterra is a real and thriving Tuscan city which proudly displays its rich history through the museums, churches, and public areas mentioned in this book. I have tried to describe them accurately and in the positive light which they deserve. Volterra is the ideal stop for the traveler who wants to see all the famous periods of Italian history in one place. Etruscan, Roman, Middle Ages, Renaissance—it has everything.

The Museo Etrusco Guarnacci, on the east side of the historic center, boasts the finest and largest collection of Etruscan burial urns in the world, as well as numerous other period artifacts including the haunting sculpture known as the Shadow of the Evening. A short walk away is the Pinacoteca e Museo Civico, whose collection includes, among many fine paintings, Rosso Fiorentino’s Deposition. Painted in 1521, this huge canvas is considered by many Mannerist scholars as Rosso’s most important work. A few hundred meters from the museum is the Roman theater that can be viewed from high on the wall or entered from below. One of the best-preserved Roman ruins of its period, it dates to the first century BC. Volterra’s jewel, as with so many Italian cities, is its main square, the Piazza dei Priori, the heart of civic life since ancient times. Among the stone buildings on it is the somber city hall, still performing its original function, whose façade always impresses visitors. Just behind the piazza, the city’s cathedral sits squeezed between other more mundane buildings, belying its impressive interior and beautiful works of art.

Along with traditional sightseeing, the alabaster around which this book is centered continues to bring tourists to Volterra. It is easy to visit workshops, and carved pieces of the stone are sold in shops everywhere. Visitors will also find artisans who specialize in Etruscan revival jewelry, something that fits easier into suitcases than alabaster.

Of course there’s the food, and no discussion of Italian cities can omit cooking. Western Tuscany, like every part of the region, has its culinary specialties including dishes featuring one of my favorite ingredients, wild boar, that can garnish pasta or stand alone as a main course. Set yourself up with a plate of it on a restaurant patio, add a glass of the local Montescudaio wine, and you’ll know that the real reason we love visiting Italy may not be the history and art.

I hope this book convinces readers that for anyone coming to Italy, especially if they find themselves in Tuscany, Volterra is not to be missed. And if a bed for the night is needed, they might consider the Hotel San Lino, named for the pope, which really was a convent in a previous life.

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