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Summary
Summary
New York Times Bestseller
"Delightful, energetic. . . . Trigiani is a seemingly effortless storyteller." -- Boston Globe
Award-winning playwright, television writer, and documentary filmmaker Adriana Trigiani returns with Brava, Valentine, continuing the heartwarming and hilarious story of Valentine Roncalli, her family, her love life, and the Angelini Shoe Company. Following on the heels of the New York Times bestseller Very Valentine (hailed by People magazine as "Sex and the City meets Moonstruck"), Brava, Valentine is another tour-de-force from the beloved author of bestselling novels Lucia, Lucia, The Queen of the Big Time, and the Big Stone Gap series.
Author Notes
Adriana Trigiani grew up in Big Stone Gap, Virginia and graduated from Saint Mary's College in South Bend, Indiana. After graduation, she moved to New York City and founded the all-female comedy troupe The Outcasts, which performed on the cabaret circuit for seven years. She was a writer/producer on The Cosby Show and A Different World and executive producer/head writer for City Kids for Jim Henson Productions. In 1996, she wrote and directed the documentary film Queens of the Big Time, which won the Audience Award at the Hamptons Film Festival.
Her debut novel, Big Stone Gap, was published in 2001. Her young adult and adult novels include Big Cherry Holler, Milk Glass Moon, Home to Big Stone Gap, The Queen of the Big Time, Rococo, Encore Valentine, Viola in Reel Life, The Supreme Macaroni Company, The Shoemaker's Wife, and All the Stars in the Heavens. She wrote the film adaptation for her novels Big Stone Gap, Very Valentine, and Lucia, Lucia. She also wrote a cookbook entitled Cooking with My Sisters and a non-fiction book entitled Don't Sing at the Table: Life Lessons from My Grandmothers.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (2)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Trigiani's sequel to Very Valentine is a sweet second act for shoemaker and designer Valentine Roncalli. Val takes over the New York family-run shoe business with feet-of-clay older brother, Alfred; falls for the dashing, older Gianluca in Italy; and takes a business risk in South America, where she unearths a dusty chapter of family history. There are plenty of picturesque globe-trotting adventures in Tuscany, Manhattan, and Buenos Aires, and, for artistic and independent Val, a grown-up commitment evolves. "There is no art without love. Only love can open someone up to the possibilities of living and creating art," Val writes to the wary Gianluca. And the startling twist of family history finally challenges an old-fashioned, insular clan to join the modern world. But it's always the endearing, unnerving and rowdy Roncallis who steal the show. Look for a heartbreaking exit of one beloved character, and a cliffhanger breakup in this charming valentine to love, forgiveness, and family. (Feb.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Library Journal Review
The second novel in Trigiani's Valentine trilogy (after Very Valentine) brings back Valentine Roncalli and her argumentative but loving Italian American family. With her grandmother remarried and living in Italy, Valentine and her brother are now in charge of the Angelina Shoe Company. She's a strong businesswoman, but family and romantic relationships knock her off stride. The marriage problems she sees in her own family don't allow her to trust in a man or her own happiness. Her discovery of a family scandal that leads to Buenos Aires only stirs up more family troubles and romantic difficulties. And the loss of a beloved friend forces Valentine to question her future and look past tearful farewells for love and happiness. Verdict Trigiani spoke to women's hearts with Big Stone Gap, and her Valentine series continues to do so. Brimming over with life, her latest will be essential reading for fans of humorous, touching family fiction. Trigiani's readers will be hard-pressed to wait a year for the final installment, Ciao, Valentine. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 10/15/09.]-Lesa Holstine, Glendale P.L., AZ (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Brava, Valentine A Novel Chapter One Shake Down the Stars The most magical thing happened on the morning of my grandmother's wedding in Tuscany. It snowed. This is definitely Italian snow, not the New York City variety of midwinter precipitation. It doesn't fall in big, chunky flakes, nor is it heavy February hail that stings faces and turns sidewalks into solid sheets of ice. Rather, this is a flurry of white glitter that sifts through the air and melts instantly when it lands on the stone streets. From my window at the Spolti Inn, it seems the entire village of Arezzo is swathed in a lace bridal veil. I sip hot milk and espresso from a warm mug as I watch an old horse-drawn carriage pull up in front of the inn to take us to the church. It doesn't feel like 2010. It could easily be a hundred years ago, not a modern touch in sight. Time stands still when people are happy. The ticking of real time resumes as soon as the rings are exchangedâ€"for all of us. Gram and Dominic's wedding plans were made quickly and effortlessly (the beauty of an eighty-year-old bride is that she really knows what she does and doesn't want). The airline tickets were bought online after a series of negotiations that eventually led to the splendid group rate that brought the Angelini and Roncalli families to this Italian village, into this moment, this morning. We've all got roles in this romantic tale. The great-granddaughters are flower girls and the great-grandsons miniature groomsmen. My sisters Tess and Jaclyn and I are bridesmaids, as is our sister-in-law Pamela, while my mother is matron of honor. Dominic's granddaughter Orsola will represent his side of the family in the bridal party. My father will walk his mother-in-law down the aisle and into the arms of Dominic Vechiarelli. "It snowed that day," I imagine I'll tell my children. I'll explain that after ten years as a widow, my grandmother found love again. Teodora Angelini's story relies on fate, timing, and the best of luck. It's also a story filled with hopeâ€"reminding all of us who haven't found love that, regardless of age, experience, or locale, it's a bad idea to close the book before "The End." You just never know. Not one of us, not even the bride, saw this day coming. "Somebody shoot me!" my mother shouts from the hallway. "My hair is a wet mop!" "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Mike. We're in a freakin' hotel. Pipe down," I hear my father bark back. "Do you have to yell?" Tess hollers from her room. "Why does this family always have to yell?" she yells. "Shh. You'll wake the bay-bee!" Jaclyn whisper-shouts from her doorway. My door bursts open. My mother stands in her full black slip with her hands on her hips. "I blew out my flatiron," she announces. A flatiron blowout in my family is worse than finding a lump. And we have found our share of lumps. Mom's face is made up, alabaster-perfect and powdered down, ready for photographs from all angles. Her fake eyelashes give her enough oomph to pass as one of Beyoncé's backup singers. Her cheeks have a peachy Bobbi Brown glow, but that's all that's sparkling about my mother. She's beyond frazzled and close to tears. "What's the matter, Ma? You're not yourself." "You noticed?" "What can I do to help?" "I don't know. I'm just a-a-a. . . mess." She plops down on my bed. Half of her head is done, straight, glossy strands of freshly dyed chestnut brown, and the other half is still damp and crimped. Mom has naturally curly hair, but you would never know it from her left profile. From the front, however, she looks like a split-screen hair model on the Home Shopping Network: before and after the anti-frizz cream has been applied. She smoothes the front panels of her black slip over her thighs and pulls the hem over her knees. I sit down next to her. "What's the problem?" "Where do I begin?" Her eyes fill with tears. She pulls a tissue from under her slip strap and dabs the inner corners of her eyes so as not to irrigate the eyelash glue and cause the mink spikes to float away in her tears like paper canoes down the Nile. "You look great." "Do I?" The tears insta-dry in my mother's eyes, and she sits up straight. All it takes is a compliment to pull my mother back to her emotional center. "Like a million bucks," I promise her. "I brought my Clarisonic. So at least I'm exfoliated. That didn't blow in the outlet, thank God." "Thank God." "I don't know, Valentine. I just don't know. I'm completely off my game. I'm shaking. Look." Mom holds up her hand. It flutters partly from nerves, and partly because she's making it flutter. "This is so strange to me. To be a maid of honor at my own mother's wedding." "Matron," I correct her. "The last over-sixty maid of anything was Mother Teresa." Mom ignores the comment. She continues, "There's something so out of kilter about this whole thing." "Gram is happy." "Yes, yes, and I've adjusted to all of it! It began with the news that my mother, eighty years young, fell in love. Then once I swallowed that, she decided to marry. I accepted her decision. Then she announces that not only will she become Dominic's bride, she has decided to move to Italy. For good. It's been a series of whammies, I'll admit it. One beaut after another, I'll tell ya. But I survived the shock of each little bomb she dropped and put aside my doubts and misgivings and went with it. Don't I always go with the flow?" Brava, Valentine A Novel . Copyright © by Adriana Trigiani . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Brava, Valentine by Adriana Trigiani All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.