When I first traveled to Calabria, I couldn’t have guessed that the stories my father told me about the place and our family there would ever be committed to paper, much less that I would soon have Calabrese stories of my own to tell. That I now do is owing especially to the generosity of the Calabresi, who made my journey a soulful adventure. To all of them, tante grazie, with a warm thank-you to the people who have been, so to speak, my traveling companions:
To the Critellis and Rotellas in Gimigliano and Milan for their welcoming embrace, and to the Rotellas in Danbury for their love.
To Giuseppe Chiarella and his family, who, while not blood, took me in as if I were, and showed me a Calabria I would never have found on my own.
To my sister, Michelle, who, while home with her children, was with us in spirit; to my mother, for her sense of adventure; and to my father, for his pride and his bounty of stories, and for letting himself be cajoled into returning to our ancestral home in the first place.
To Maria Massie, who first encouraged me to write about Calabria, and to Alexis Hurley for her help and enthusiasm along the way.
Many thanks go to Paul Elie for his thoughtful guidance, critical eye, and friendship; and to Becky Saletan, an indispensable guide on the last leg of the journey
To Susan Mitchell and Abby Kagan, for their artistic grasp of things Calabrese, to fellow Calabrese Steven Arcella for his map of our region, to Elisabeth Calamari for her professional vivacitd, and to Cecily Parks for always knowing the answer.
To my colleagues at Publishers Weekly and Library Journal, with particular thanks to Jeff Zaleski.