When Luca Carcera is twelve years old, his father moves out under mysterious circumstances. He surfaces across town, in a run-down rooming house, living with another man. Luca is equally surprised by his mother’s burgeoning sexuality after her husband’s departure. And what about Luca’s own adolescent sexual awakening? He has an unusually intense friendship with a boy at school. He’s also drawn to his attractive female neighbor. He can’t choose. He’s overwhelmed by the degree to which sex can shatter the status quo. He shuts down.
We meet Luca again as an adult. His wife wants a child, and that terrifies him. But more terrifyingly still, he’s been married for twelve years — the precise length of time his own father was married when he admitted his feelings for another man — when he gets a phone call that yanks him back to the past he’s tried so hard to ignore. Now he wonders if he’ll do exactly what his father did.
With this extraordinarily intelligent and sensitive exploration of sexuality — what it means to look deep within oneself and resist looking away — Giardina plumbs great emotion depths with his trademark literary grace.
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|Title of eBook: Recent History|
|Release Date: 05-01-2001|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Random House Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Recent History|
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On the drive — unannounced, with a mysterious destination — he tapped the wheel and hummed an odd little song that let me know he was nervous. I tried to follow the song, but couldn’t. My father was a small, secretive man, quiet, well-dressed. He was known in the family into which he had married, a large and clamorous Italian family (as he was Italian, himself), as one who habitually stood back from the passionate center of action. You can see even now, in the home movies that survive from those years (he never took them, my Uncle John did), how he stands aside from the others on the beach, hardly noticeable sometimes, smaller and more compact and less expansive than the other, heavier, laughing men. What those movies don’t tell you, though, is how he spoke, and the power he wielded because of the way he spoke. “Should we dig for clams?” someone on the beach would shout, trying to draw one last drop from the day. “No,” he’d say, and point. “The tide’s coming in.” The others would stand back
then, nod. How foolish they’d been.
That day, he’d brought sandwiches for us to eat, meatball; they were on the seat between us. By the time we were into the woods the submarine rolls had gone soggy, and the bag had a wet stain on the bottom. We had to park at the bottom o...