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italian books
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virtualitalia.com's pick of the month
The Adventures of Pinocchio, Carlo Collodi
Collodi's tale carves the action out of 19th century Italian landscapes. Clearly shown as a mocking marionette, this Pinocchio races through cobbled city scenes and then throws himself prostrate at the person or fairy whom he has most recently wronged by his hasty, thoughtless behavior. And when he becomes a real boy, the transformation is resounding: left slumped on a chair is the body of a puppet; readers may marvel that what lies so lifeless in that scene was the source of so much trouble earlier on. Enchantment reigns in the pictures, each a perfect elaboration of the text. This book is a place where puppets have life beyond human hands, and where souls may die and live again, resurrected by the power of love. This is a book for all ages to enjoy.
Here is where you can find our past-picks and thumb through our book collection.
Is something missing? Then just submit a review of your favorite books so that we may share it with our readers!
I'm not scared The closer I got to the hill, the worse I felt. A weight pressed against my stomach and what was left of my breakfast churned in my guts. I couldn�t catch my breath, and a coating of sweat bathed my back and neck. What was I doing? Every time I pushed against the pedals, another piece of my vow crumbled to the ground.
living la dolce vita - help yourself to the italian lifestyle
The signs are everywhere: the 5-fold increase in U.S. spending on Italian imports; the rising success of mafia-based television shows; the skyrocketing record sales of tenors Bocelli and Pavarotti - everyone wants to know the secret of living la dolce vita, the sweet Italian life.
come si chiamas (whatchamacallits)
From the moment I was made to feel that I was somehow less, I was always on the lookout for differences between the sexes and, more importantly, ways in which I could minimize them in myself. Probably the biggest difference, and the one most troublesome to me, was balls.
life al dente: one of the boys I was the firstborn, the son my father always wanted. And so he started almost immediately to mold me into his own image and likeness. For the most part, his efforts were successful. Unfortunately, there was one obstacle, which he could neither overcome nor accept. I was a girl.
The closer I got to the hill, the worse I felt. A weight pressed against my stomach and what was left of my breakfast churned in my guts. I couldn�t catch my breath, and a coating of sweat bathed my back and neck. What was I doing? Every time I pushed against the pedals, another piece of my vow 
