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336 pages, Hardcover
First published January 23, 2024
She could smell the doughnuts, and her mouth started to water. They were so delicious; one bite wouldn’t hurt surely? But then she made herself remember how large she had been in Venice ten years ago, how the tops of her thighs would chafe against each other in summer, and how awkward it had been to move onstage. She did not want to be that Maria again, the one who dwarfed nearly every tenor she sang with, the one compared by one critic to a praying mantis who mated and then gobbled up her spouse. Her voice was a gift from God, but her figure was the fruit of her own self-denial.
Tita [Maria’s first husband] stood up and gripped her shoulders. They were so bony now. He remembered the soft flesh that had enveloped the Maria he had married in Verona nine years earlier. Sometimes he wished that she was still that large, badly dressed girl who could always be soothed with pasta and ice cream. He had loved to watch her eat, gobbling her food as if someone were going to take it away from her. She had been a simpler creature then, her Italian strangely emphatic and full of antiquated emotional declarations that she had learned from operas. That girl had known twenty different words for love but didn’t know how to ask for the bathroom.