Yesterday I published a novella in Amazon.com’s Kindle Store. It’s called “The Veranda” and it features a woman of a certain age who has hunkered down in a rainforest retreat in order to sift through events in her life and figure out what was important. From the streets of Paris to the beaches of Cape Cod, she revisits scene after scene, admiring some more than others. In the end, what seems to matter is the tropical retreat that she’d intended to be just a setting.
EXCERPT: What I most remember is having my esthetic sense satisfied at every turn. Walking down streets past ordinary buildings was a sensory experience, perhaps because much of what I saw had been there for over two hundred years. To be fair, there are New York buildings that I’ve always loved, like the scalloped Chrysler, and the stylized Dakota. But in Paris, every edifice, every pavee calls to me. Paris is the only veranda I’ve ever known out in public, in spite of the omnipresent stink of diesel fuel, sewers, and unwashed bodies.
The people are very put together and stylish, even when they’re not pretty. Clothes have a distinction, or perhaps it’s the way Parisians wear them. Levi’s and stretched out pullovers look like high fashion. People stride confidently, as though they own the sidewalk. Women are impossibly sexy and men strut like roosters. Visitors and temporary residents try to imitate the look, but few succeed.
“The Veranda is also available in paperback on amazon.com.