Despite his reluctance jaded private cop, Ris Amadeo, is conned into taking on a search for a missing rich girl who shouldn't be missing. Money and manipulation start a hunt that turns up some moral, immoral and a few amoral characters linked by events no one seems able to stop.
In a region of southern Italy that is known as Calabria, far south of Naples, there is a remote town by the name of Ardore. It's history dates back to ancient Greece; and, in over 2,800 years, a succession of conquerors did little to improve the lives of its people. In the mid-1600's, Antonio Bova saw the sale of the town as a feudal estate with an absentee landlord. By the mid-1700's his family had grown and acquired productive agricultural lands. Ardore supported the unification of Italy in 1860, but rebelled when a cholera epidemic ravaged the town. Arciprete Giuseppe Bova rose to a leading role in the town as pastor of the "mother church" and eventually became a bishop. And, Joseph Pasquale Bova was one of the earliest of the massive wave of Italian immigrants that came to America. We explore the experiences of seven generations of the Bova Family and learn how their lives were impacted by the history of Ardore and that of Italy.
A harrowing account of Jewish refugees in the Philippines With the rise of Nazism in the 1930s more than a thousand European Jews sought refuge in the Philippines, joining the small Jewish population of Manila. When the Japanese invaded the islands in 1941, the peaceful existence of the barely settled Jews filled with the kinds of uncertainties and oppression they thought they had left behind. In this book Frank Ephraim, who fled to Manila with his parents, gathers the testimonies of thirty-six refugees, who describe the difficult journey to Manila, the lives they built there upon their arrival, and the events surrounding the Japanese invasion. Combining these accounts with historical and archival records, Manila newspapers, and U.S. government documents, Ephraim constructs a detailed account of this little-known chapter of world history.
An Italian American investigates his family’s mixed religious roots in northern Italy and Sicily in this fascinating memoir. Italian Protestants? Few people seem to have heard of them, but the author’s mother’s immigrant Italian family was Protestant while his father’s were Catholic immigrants from Sicily. On his father’s side, with dozens of aunts, uncles and numerous cousins, Catholic family gatherings were loud, often profane, with drinking, smoking and raucous celebrations of weddings, births, holidays, and other occasions as well as the mystical rituals inherent in the Catholic faith. By contrast, on his mother’s side, family gatherings were small and quiet, with no smoking or drinking; and religion was the core of most family celebrations. But the author had little understanding of the ancient origins of his maternal grandparents’ very different Protestant faith which marked the keen differences between the two sides of the family. Relative Strangers describes the author’s search for the religious roots of his parents’ families in northern Italy and Sicily. He traces the history of the Waldensians, the Protestant sect which began in Lyon, France, in the twelfth century, often suffering persecution, but surviving to this day both in Europe and America.
Everyone will agree, a great Coney Island restaurant, one of a kind, is a coveted core sample of the late historical past. Imagine table talk and social customs of a pulsing patronage encased now in the cruel aspic of time. May I place you at a favored table facing a proscenium populated by diners—cooks, scullions, waiters, musicians of the cafe chantant scullery maids, deadbeats—and the notable and notorious of the years 1915-1975; an inscape for the "livingness" of an era. I, too, am playing my role, only consciously by writing what I remember in this loving memoir of a gathering place, a showplace of human kindred at its mellowed best. Not a history pinched by spinsterish qualms, bigoted asides, shrivelled libidos, and dyspeptic frowns, for bitter lips make for bitter palates, and stingy tipping. No, rather a free spending largesse cuore a cuore of matching vignettes, anecdotes, profiles, tintypes, tales and tattles in full bodied appearances. Restaurants are marvelous core samples of the past. How wonderful if all the great restaurants of the past were written up so devotedly and grandly!
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