THE DARTMOUTH CHRONICLES
Chapter 1: On fresh air and thin veils
"No way." Esme slammed shut the book she held in her hands, snorting loudly. "I don't get it. There's no way I'm going to understand this book. Damn it!" she hissed, moving a long lock of hair behind her ear and looking extremely, hopelessly bored.
Jasmine looked at her, blushing slightly; she had no intention of being thrown out of the library, as unfortunately often happened when she was with Esme. Not this time; it was too important for her to concentrate on the new novel assigned by Professor Minardi.
Considering the year of the publication of the novel - and the fact that it was almost impossible to find it in bookstores – they had been lucky enough to find three copies of the book, thanks to an interlibrary loan.
Jasmine clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. "Would you mind lowering your voice? This is a library, not a playground. Are you aware of that, Esme?" she asked in a mocking tone. Esme just looked at her without saying anything.
"And, to tell you the truth, I don't think you should complain; in the end, this is not the most difficult book we've read, dear. Don't you remember the efforts we already made to follow the reasoning of Umberto Eco's "Foucault's Pendulum", last year? That was a tough book, Es."
Her friend rolled her eyes, shaking the head. "We read a few chapters, Jasmine. It was a feasible thing!" she answered, hissing. "Professor Minardi has crossed the line! Not only is the author practically an unknown one, she even wants us to read the whole book!"
"Oh, Es! Melania G. Mazzucco is not an 'unknown one'. She won the Premio Strega in 2003 and her winning book has been reported as a New York Times Book Review editor's choice and was included by Publishers Weekly as one of the ten best novels of that year, the only one not written in English."
Esme looked at her, bewildered and teasing. "You, indeed, have learnt your lesson very well, Jasmine", she snorted soundly. "I'm studying Italian because I want to visit Rome, Florence, Venice, Naples ... Do you think that the guide in Pompeii will ask me if I know who won the Strega Prize in 2003? That's stupid. This book is stupid", she concluded and moved the disgusting tome away from her with the back of her hand.
Jasmine could barely hide a smirk; Esme had a good point, there. But she had to study and wanted to finish the task.
"Come on, Es! This is not the end of the world… and the plot is interesting, after all. You have to admit it", she said, stroking the rough cover of the book in front of her. The tips of her fingers lingered on the embossed title while she glanced sideways at Aurora, sitting not far from them, and yet totally immersed in her reading.
Esme pursed her lips and shrugged. "Interesting? It's like reading the female version of James Joyce and in Italian, moreover! Mazzucco may have won a prize, but this book is not "the winner"; this is her first one, written back in 1996… and perhaps the only one reading it back then was Professor Minardi!" She folded her arms across her chest in a sulky way. "The plot is not interesting at all. I don't care how they lived in Italy in the late nineteenth century ... arranged marriages, betrayal, jealousy ... I do not care! It's boring and trite and, by the way, we have Jane Austin for this stuff!"
Jasmine's eyes flashed with anger. "And what about the violence against women? The women's emancipation, the right to express your own feelings regardless of the prejudices and against society?" She grabbed the book with a sudden jerk forward and placed it in her backpack, getting up from the table. "You just refuse to look beyond the surface of things, Esme. Anyway, your attitude is not my problem."
Jasmine settled her sweatshirt, throwing the backpack over her shoulder, without deigning to look at her bewildered friend. "Now, Esme, se non ti dispiace [1], I'm going to look for a quiet place in the park where I can finally concentrate and enjoy this boring and trite book in peace!" she hissed.
Moving away from the table, Jasmine gently placed a hand on Aurora's shoulder, shaking the girl from her reading. "See you tomorrow, Rores. I need a breath of fresh air…" She glanced at Esme who, meanwhile, had risen from the table and was gathering her things.
The blonde made no attempt to interfere in the quarrel between her two dear friends: she had been so focused on reading, completely estranged from reality. She simply nodded, smiling weakly at Jasmine. "See you tomorrow, Jas." That was her kind reply.
While Jasmine was heading towards the exit, Esme grabbed her things and turned towards Aurora: "She's so upset and I can't even understand why! I can't believe it; she's mad at me because of a book!" She shook her head in disbelief and stepped briskly out of the library.
Finally left alone, Aurora patted the book's worn cover, from which a young woman was winking, her long black hair blowing in the wind. "Il bacio della Medusa", she read in a low voice, smiling to herself, searching in her memory for the sentence she had read a few minutes before and finding comfort in repeating it over and over again: "Qualcosa è cucito ormai per sempre. Esisti, e il resto è ciò che accade". [2] She enjoyed every single word rolling on her tongue, as if she could taste every syllable. Suddenly, her heart began to beat faster. The woman on the cover gave her an enigmatic smile, daring her with her curvy body wrapped (and hidden) by thin veils. It was as if a whole world was hiding behind those full lips, and the woman openly challenged her to find the access road.
Aurora took a deep breath, smiled mischievously and decided to accept the challenge. She stroked the woman's face, again. "I will find a way to be a part of your life, my Medusa. I will find a way." That, she promised to the green eyes staring at her from under her fingers.
A/N:
[1] "Se non ti dispiace." If you don't mind.
[2] "Qualcosa è cucito ormai per sempre. Esisti, e il resto è ciò che accade." Something is sewn forever. You exist, and the rest is what happens. [taken from: "Il bacio della Medusa", by Melania G. Mazzucco]